Unknowledgeable and Curious: A Reflection on Gatekeeping and Inclusion in Middlebury’s Fashion Circles
By Molly Grazioso
“So how long have you loved to sew?”
(An awkward silence.)
“I actually … am going to learn soon.”
“Sorry — you don’t…?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, if you don’t sew, then why are you doing this?”
It’s not an unfair response. If anything, it’s a natural one, which would help explain why countless teachers and mentors have presented me with it.
Over the past year, I’ve worked to conceptualize and found a student makerspace, called the Studio, for upcycling and other sustainable fashion projects at Middlebury, and of all the many questions I’ve heard throughout the process, “Why are you doing this?” is among the most frequently asked.
This particular question invariably elevates my heart rate because I hear it most often not in a tone of genuine curiosity, but instead, in one of judgement. As a result, “Why are you doing this?” has plagued my late night thoughts, directly fueling the imposter syndrome I’ve developed during this ongoing project.
In my first meetings with people who expressed interest in my proposal, I quickly realized my inability to sew would be a major obstacle in building the physical makerspace and any potential partners’ confidence in me. Upon learning my dreaded truth, that I had zero sewing experience, many people’s excitement immediately turned into condescension which fostered exclusion.
Unaware of how much thread I would need to serve a population of student sewists and completely incapable of sharing my own favorite upcycling techniques, my lack of Janome know-how rendered me an obvious outsider in the fashion production community. By the end of conversations with experienced clothing designers, I sometimes felt like the last person on earth who should be trying to create a space in which to make and repurpose clothes, much less invigorated to get to work.
But, I had to remind myself that this was exactly why I wanted to create an upcycling makerspace in the first place. I was unknowledgeable and curious, fascinated by clothing, sustainability, and the fashion industry but lacking the precise tools I wanted to study their intersection. The project was exploratory by design. The idea to build a space where other students and I could work on sustainable fashion projects was born out of a desire to learn and to create the tools I hoped for, not because of any mastery I claimed of clothing production skills.
Yet, despite knowing somewhere deep down that my intentions or goals behind the project were valid, my lack of sewing skills remained a nagging chip on my shoulder. Regularly reminded that my interest alone was not enough qualification for a real place or respect in fashion production circles, I began to lose confidence in myself and motivation to continue. I was embarrassed because I felt like I was forcing my addition into a place I clearly was not wanted.
Unfortunately, my experience of not feeling a sense of belonging in fashion-related activities at Middlebury doesn’t seem to be all that unique. I’ll be honest—the scope of my sociological observations is not that large—but from the conversations I have had with peers about fashion entities on campus, there does seem to be an exclusive culture many people experience that can intimidate and alienate interested students who have not yet had the opportunity to engage with fashion in a formal academic, hands-on capacity. Some friends, for example, have expressed feelings of frustration and embarrassment after being unprepared in sewing classes advertised as introductory; others have expressed that although they would be interested in joining the Clover team, they have never attended a meeting out of fear they are not “stylish” enough or conversant about the topics commonly highlighted in prestigious fashion magazines.
I was lucky—lucky to find an array of supportive mentors and friends who, after I returned from conversations that made me doubt myself, validated my exploration into my interest in fashion, and even luckier that my many compounding privileges also facilitated my access and inclusion into those spheres. But I recognize that many others are not as lucky; many people do not have the same robust support networks I was able to tap into in periods of self-doubt. Middlebury students come to Middlebury with myriad different identities and life experiences, and I think that as a community, we can do a lot better to welcome and support all students identifying as beginners—in fashion-related circles especially, but really in any type of activity offered.
There is this predominant belief here that experience is a necessary qualification for inclusion in an organized group, and I challenge that. These are college activities. It’s really not that deep. At Middlebury, we are unbelievably lucky to have the ability to explore extracurricular activities and topics which intrigue us with very low stakes. So, I encourage the leaders and members of fashion-related (and all) organizations on campus—starting with myself—to consider and discuss how we might transition away from upholding a culture that singularly values relevant experience to cultivating one that not only permits, but celebrates, student excitement alone. While Clover, as an organized group, (thankfully) has no official prerequisites for membership, you shouldn’t have to feel well-versed in Vogue to get involved in the production of next semester’s magazine issue. And, I can promise that if you can’t thread a needle, at the Studio, you will never hear the words, “Then why are you doing this?” If you’re unknowledgeable and curious and interested, welcome. I’m excited for you to come check it out.