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Gear I Hold Dear: My Silk Pillowcase 


A sleeping bag and pillow inside a tent at camp.

For certainly one of my first backpacking journeys 20 years in the past, I laid out all of the gear in my bed room—sleeping pad, sleeping bag, camp range and different necessities. My purpose was to maintain the load mild. At one level, I even thought-about sawing off my toothbrush deal with to save lots of a fraction of an oz.. Then I grabbed one thing not discovered on most backpacking checklists: a lustrous silk pillowcase.  

The merchandise contributed unneeded weight and served the singular goal of offering consolation, which is at odds with the ultralight tenet that each piece of substances performs a number of features. My pillowcase wouldn’t survive a pack shakedown imposed by the Gentle and Quick Committee. 

I laughed at myself and regarded tossing it to the aspect. The hand-sewn silk case weighs simply 2.5 ounces, about the identical weight and dimension as my camp pillow. I sleep with my luxurious companion most nights when not tenting. Nonetheless, I couldn’t make sense of the pull to convey it on a visit the place I’d be “roughing it”: Why did I would like this pointless merchandise to make the ultimate pack reduce?  

My love for my pillowcase is layered. The silk fiber is much less porous than frequent linen or cotton pillow covers and doesn’t draw pure moisture away from my hair and pores and skin. These qualities promote hydrated, wholesome locks. Moreover, my mom sewed this pillowcase; my closet has held a stack of comparable ones in several colours and sizes, made by her and my grandmother over time. We’ve all slept on silk pillowcases for so long as I can keep in mind as a result of they preserve our hair hydrated and stop breakage—when hair turns into so brittle it can’t keep size. This one was smaller, good for overlaying an ultralight pillow. The pillowcase’s maroon coloration was fading after years of use, however that truth added to its permanence for me. 

However the pillowcase can be an artifact that symbolizes household and group. It connects my disparate experiences in nature in a method that creates a private throughline.

My dad and mom grew up within the Nineteen Forties and ‘50s in rural Jamaica. They stuffed their days climbing fruit bushes, taking part in cricket, trapping lizards, caring for crops and animals and customarily making mischief and mayhem with siblings and pals. These experiences cultivated a love of nature that stayed with them after they immigrated to New York and raised a household.  “We had been all the time exterior,” my mom says when requested about her childhood. “The one factor to do inside was chores.” 

It’s innate to my dad and mom to know what surrounds them. As Jamaicans, they grew up extra related to the land than many people in america who’re formed by the mindset of a rich colonial nation; my dad and mom, their dad and mom and previous generations relied on land for each survival and recreation and wanted to stay in concord with it, reasonably than looking for solely to extract from it. As soon as they turned New Yorkers, my mother and pop took the time to be taught concerning the vegetation endemic to their new residence.  

On the flip aspect, when my dad and mom first moved to the U.S., they knew nothing about backpacking or different out of doors actions which have come to outline the American “outdoorsy” paradigm. They didn’t perceive the drive by so many to spend $1,000 on tenting gear simply to sleep exterior—certainly one of many behaviors that I’ll admit to adopting once I first began backpacking. I realized to know and admire my pure environment from my dad and mom, however I additionally realized the American model of the outside from the establishments I grew up inside: church, college and summer time camp. This model of recreation taught me to optimize my packing to maneuver effectively and shortly on the path, as a result of it elevated bodily achievements above different goals. And since my comparatively extravagant silk pillowcase didn’t match this framework, I hesitated to see it as belonging amongst my different gear necessities, like my sleeping bag or range. 

A toddler of immigrants travels many miles to type her id, generally drawing consolation from her heritage and different occasions wrestling with it or eschewing it to adapt to new social pressures. There’s a really sensible have to survive in new socioeconomic terrain, with the youngsters usually having to be taught classes that folks don’t have the information to show.  

As an grownup, I gravitated towards mountaineering and backpacking tradition, with a bunch of fancy camping-specific gear strapped to my again and with out sentimental gadgets like my silk pillowcase. I sought whole immersion exterior, and was drawn to the vistas of the New Hampshire White Mountains, simply two hours from my new residence in Boston. The odor of balsam fir and maple bark and the satisfaction of motion propelled me. At occasions it was troublesome to keep up my sense of self and my roots, sown by my ancestors and cultivated by my dad and mom and relations, whereas present throughout the largely white mountaineering group. I skilled outright racism now and again, however extra usually, I discovered that the individuals round me usually wished me to assimilate into white cultural norms and have become uncomfortable once I asserted my variations.     

Folks from marginalized identities, together with racialized identities, usually undergo when their norms and values are unintentionally disregarded by the dominant tradition—resulting in a lack of one’s personal id, a lack of delight in a single’s background and heritage; it might probably even manifest in self-hatred.  

A Black pal summed it up as soon as in a method that resonated with me. She was new to tenting, and I invited her on a tenting journey with pals. I watched her eyes and physique language as she mulled over the concept of spending the weekend, her transient break from the weekly grind, as certainly one of solely two Black individuals within the group.  “You understand what,” she advised me. “I simply don’t wish to have to clarify what I’m doing with my hair.” She may twist it, pile it on her head and wrap it with a fabric. In a single sense, not an enormous deal. However her assertion was a metaphor. She was bored with explaining herself to white individuals. She was bored with being evaluated, scrutinized, and fielding questions. It’s not that the eye can be innately dangerous. In reality, it will probably be coming from a spot of real curiosity and goodwill. However that was inappropriate. She was simply drained and wished to go unnoticed. To mix in and never must mirror on what makes her completely different throughout the group of campers.   

As I packed for my weekend journey all these years in the past, I eyed the silk pillowcase amongst my different gear, debating whether or not to convey it alongside. My mother and grandma have sewn these for me, for relations and pals for so long as I can keep in mind. My grandpa was a grasp tailor. Each he and my grandmother had been sturdy and avid seamsters. And the silk pillowcase jogged my memory of their legacy. 

Lastly, I grabbed it and stuffed it deep within the pack, far sufficient down that I couldn’t simply pull it out once more. Since that journey, it’s come on most of my backcountry journeys from Wyoming to Alberta to Peru. 

On that backpacking journey, and on so many others, I laid my joyfully wooly, nappy head—my literal roots—down on my silken pillow after an extended day of being exterior. I assumed concerning the loving talent of my mother and grandma’s fingers. That love pulsed by means of me as I drifted off, melding with the sounds of wildlife and wind in bushes. Each night time underneath the celebrities, the heart beat regulates my heartbeat to the rhythm of the breath of the earth beneath me, lulling me to sleep.    

The publish Gear I Hold Dear: My Silk Pillowcase  appeared first on Uncommon Path – An REI Co-op Publication.



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