My hands rest on my hips as the harsh fluorescent lights flicker above my head. My gaze is fixed on the sight in front of me, taking in all of its beauty: An entire row of embroidery kits stares back at me. My eyes trail the designs, catching on prospects of flower bouquets and butterfly gardens. It was March 2020, the beginning of the pandemic, and I was graciously allowed to accompany my mother on her grocery trip to the Walmart near our house — determined to find something, anything, to keep my mind engaged as the world around me seemed to come to a standstill. I wandered through the craft section until I found myself in the embroidery aisle. As someone who had never picked up a sewing needle in her life, let alone embroidered, I wasn’t really sure what I was doing there. But the silky smooth threads, rich with color and promise, stopped me in my tracks, and soon, I was appraising each kit, determined to try something new in the midst of my novel stagnancy. Anticipation washed over me as I reached for a kit with a preplanned design of a snowy forest. I couldn’t wait to go home, eager to create something entirely of my own and ward off my boredom.
Thus began my grandma era. A “grandma era,” coined by me, my friends and a large portion of the TikTok community, essentially means adopting the lifestyle of a grandma. Whether it be crocheting, embroidering, gardening or going to bed by 10 p.m., many activities loved by the older generation have appealed to a variety of people in recent years, especially during the pandemic. The grandma lifestyle gave me something to do when there was nothing else going on in my life. Rather than spend my time scrolling endlessly on my phone, I found a way to fill my days that kept my mind busy and also gave me a tangible product at the end of my hard work. Working with your hands is shown to greatly benefit your brain and mental health, as it “releases serotonin and endorphins,” promoting healthy moods and neuroplasticity within the brain. I found that embroidery did just that for me. It allowed me to channel my anxieties and loneliness into a piece of art that trapped my worries in between my stitches. Being able to create something with my own two hands made me feel so proud of the work I put in. Instead of losing myself to the pandemic, I found a part of me that didn’t exist prior to it.
I used those months spent in quarantine to develop this skill, completing embroidery kit after embroidery kit. After that first Walmart trip, I wasn’t allowed to go to the store anymore with my mother, but I would always request that she bring me a new kit. When I had finished every kit Walmart had to offer, I redid my favorite ones. I cannot tell you how many hours flew by as I lost myself in this craft, watching the needle going up and down, up and down, as the murmur of my thoughts quieted and my muscles relaxed. Embroidery stayed with me all throughout quarantine and then the rest of my high school years, always existing as a safe space for me to return to when my emotions were running wild and I needed to calm the quick beating of my heart.
When I started college, I didn’t realize just how demanding student life at the University of Michigan would be. But at the University (and honestly every college in America for that matter), there is the huge pressure of hustle culture, in which an environment “places an intense focus on productivity, ambition, and success.” Hustle culture tends to infect every aspect of life here. As students, we are constantly expected to do things that will advance our futures. Whether it be the classes we take or the activities we are involved in, there has to be some sort of purpose to the ways we choose to spend our time. Thus, it’s no surprise that hustle culture is also accompanied by burnout culture, as it is mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting to keep up with the demands of college life. The stress and pressure to keep up with everyone else can become too much at times.
The first half of my fall semester, I constantly felt like I was falling behind my peers even though that wasn’t logically possible considering we were each freshman and had barely begun our college journeys. Yet, I couldn’t help but succumb to the honeyed trap of hustle culture, constantly pushing myself to do more and more, all while comparing myself to the successes of the people surrounding me. Self-care was thrown to the wind as I flung myself into all the opportunities surrounding me. During Fall Break, I remember going to Walmart with my mom the Sunday before we drove back to Michigan. We wandered the aisles together, picking out miscellaneous items for my dorm that I didn’t think were necessary but turned out to be useful in the long run — a Glade air freshener, Swiffer mopping pads, a small lamp. For some reason, we strolled past the craft section, and there I was again — staring at the multitude of embroidery kits in front of me. I hadn’t embroidered since before college started and didn’t bring any supplies with me when I moved into my dorm, not really thinking of it as I packed up the rest of my life. Yet, I felt something drawing me in as the ghosts of my past moments of comfort whispered in my ear. I ended up putting a kit in our cart, anticipation blooming in my chest once again.
When I introduced embroidery into my life, it was during a time when it was impossible to achieve hustle culture. The entire world had shut down and our lives had shrunk to encompass only the rooms of our houses. During that time, embroidering gave me a purpose, allowing me to utilize the abundance of freetime I suddenly had. It taught me how to care for myself and how to manage my anxiety in a way that was both productive and fulfilling. Yet, what I love about embroidery is that it also stayed with me after the pandemic, when the pressure of having a purpose grew overwhelming at times. In college, attempting to figure out my place within the U-M community was challenging mentally and emotionally. Embroidery provided me with a tool with which I could stop time with, just for a few moments, as I allowed my body and mind to recuperate from my stressful days. Embroidering gave me a purpose when my life was lacking one, but also is there for me when I need a break from establishing my purpose here, at the University of Michigan.
It took me a while to complete the kit I bought over Fall Break. I wasn’t able to dedicate consecutive hours to the craft with everything else going on in my life. In fact, there were stretches of days, sometimes weeks, where I wouldn’t even touch the needle and thread sprawled across my desk, my body and brain too exhausted to do anything but sleep after a long day of classes. But having that kit and the ability to embroider when I felt like it was absolutely amazing. I had regained some consistency in my life, something to look forward to doing at the end of each day and a task that quelled all my worries surrounding school or life or anything in between. My grandma era had begun once again. My friends are intrigued by my hobby, not fully understanding my passion for the needle and thread I’ve grown so fond of. But, they know that embroidering and being in my grandma era brings me consistent joy, even when the other things going on in my life can be all over the place. For my birthday, they all pitched in to get me a beginner’s crochet kit, knowing that it’s another craft I aim to learn this summer. It feels wonderful to know that while they may not get where my love for embroidering comes from, they still support me in all my artistic endeavors.
I think the beauty of being in my grandma era is that I get to utilize embroidering as a safe space when the world is spinning a little too fast. We go to a school and live in a world where everything we do needs to have a purpose, needs to advance our lives, careers, futures in one way or another. But through embroidering, I get to do something just to do something. I have the ability to shut off my brain, allowing it a mental reprieve as my hands kick into overdrive, maneuvering the needle in and out of the fabric until a painting of thread is staring back at me.
I know a lot of people who can craft like this, monetize it on Etsy or maybe as a local business, essentially turning their hobbies into a type of hustle culture at the end of the day. While I’ve bought my fair share of personalized crewnecks and homemade items (as I’m writing this, I’m lovingly gazing at my Appa crewneck from “Avatar: The Last Airbender” that I purchased from Etsy), I haven’t really ever thought to start my own business and sell my own embroidery. A part of me is definitely very worried that I would mess someone’s order up, but more than that, I like that there’s no pressure behind my hobby. I don’t feel the need to turn my embroidering into something meaningful because it’s already meaningful to me. The comfort it provides me on even my hardest days is enough for me. Embroidering makes me feel good about myself and I’m so happy that I gave it a chance on that fateful day in March three years ago. I cannot wait to pick up the needle tomorrow and let time slip away as I watch my thread go in and out of the cream fabric, slowly forming a work of art.
Statement Columnist Ananya Gera can be reached at agera@umich.edu