Queen of Needlework

By Dia Cha, PhD and Raymond Aaron

Queen of Needlework is a fictional story about a girl who was taken from her family and raised in the jungle by the most surprising animal. She learns who she is and discovers that she has an amazing talent for needlework. She has many ups and downs, but manages to find her way. This is an uplifting story that inspires you to believe in yourself, and to follow the path you think is best. It is also a very informative book that teaches you the history of Hmong people, as well as the importance and beauty of needlework. Follow Mai See on her path in life and see what surprises come her way!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781772774726

Book preview

Introduction: My Family’s Difficult Journey from Laos to the United States as Refugees

Bang! Bang! Bang! Boong! Booong! Boooong! These were sounds of gun shots that lit up the sky like giant claps of thunder, and bombs dumping on the landscape, shaking the ground where I stood. My body was shaking uncontrollably. My mother yelled out, Get up children! We must run away from here!

I tried my best to say something, but my entire body was shaking so forcefully that I simply could not make a sound. My mother screamed again, You hold each other’s hands so you do not get lost. There are hundreds of people on the road. Go, go, go now! Our village was invaded by the enemy military troop. It was the middle of the night. We ran in darkness… If our side of the military won the battle, we would come back to live in the same village.

If the enemy military won the battle, we would never come back, and would have to move away to live in a new place. Scenes like this recurred throughout my childhood, which have shaped my perspectives and experience in life, formed the fabric and threads of sewing my family story cloths, and inspired me to write and share my family story with the intention that history will not repeat itself in this world.

My name is Dia Cha. I am going to tell you about my Hmong family’s difficult journey from Laos to the United States, and how we learned to sew needlework. All the way back to the mid 1960s when I was a little girl in our village in the highlands of Laos, I and my cousins, Pakou, Kashia, and Chamee, learned to sew needlework with our mothers. We were about five to seven years old and all girls. At that time, needlework or Pa ndau (paj ntaub) was considered a female’s art. Hmong men and boys didn’t sew needlework.

As beginners, we learned to cross-stitch by using our mothers’ scrap cloths. At first, I had a hard time holding the needle. It kept pinching my fingers. Ouch! Uuch! Euch! At that time, Hmong believed that if the needle pinched your fingers when you were sewing, someone would laugh at or criticize (thuam) it when you finished it. Both the cloth and needle were so slippery.

The thread got tangled often and made little knots. I had to untangle the thread and undo the knots each time. It was really hard to sew. I wanted to give up. However, my cousin, Pakou, who was two years older than me, said, Don’t give up! You will learn to handle it after a few days. With her encouragement, I kept trying.

My mother showed me to properly hold a needle and place the cloth on top of my knee as I sat down. She said, Hold the cloth with your left hand and the needle with your right hand steadily. Focus your attention on the cloth and needle as you sew slowly. Be patient! I followed her instruction. It was still hard to sew at first. Eventually though, I stopped pinching myself as I sewed. No more Ouch! Uuch! Euch!

At first, we just sewed straight line cross-stitches. Then we learned to embroider seeds, flowers, angles, leaves or little mountains. As we grew older and knew how to count well, we chose easier patterns to cross-stitch, like a five-stars pattern. This pattern had more straight lines than corners.

Sometimes we sat down together on small rattan stools with our mothers, to sew as a big group. Sometimes the four of us would sit down to sew together as a small group. We often sewed and played. We played more than sewed. Our hands often got dirty then we sewed again. Therefore, our pa ndau became dirty by the time we finished making it.

My mother sometimes had to wash my newly finish pa ndau and dry it before she would sew it onto my new Hmong clothes. However, my mother and all adult female needlework artists always washed their hands very clean before they started to sew. They also placed a wet towel or cloth on the side of their sewing baskets and cleaned their hands often. When they finished sewing a piece of pa ndau, it looked brand new.

Reverse appliqué technique with Stair Step Motif made by Her Hands Collection

One time, while sewing with my cousins, I lost my needle on the dirt ground as we sat outside the house to sew. We had to find the needle so no one would step on it. I was also afraid my mother would scold me if I lost a needle because she had only three needles at that time. We had to walk half a day to a larger town to buy a needle. Thus, I could not afford to lose it. We searched quietly. Shh…shhh…when our mothers looked in our direction, one of us stood up to stretch out as if we were taking a break from sewing, one scratched her arms, and I pretended to fix my hair…We looked and looked until I found the needle. Whew!

Among the three of us, I remembered my cousin Pakou sewed faster and was very good. I sewed very slowly, and my lines were not straight. All needlework was done by eyesight. We didn’t use any measuring tools. But our mother’s pa ndau came out perfect each time. My cousin Chamee and I were the same age. She sewed faster than me. But she made more mistakes and often had to redo her work.

My mother could sew very fast and well. She knew how to sew all kinds of needlework, such as cross-stitch, embroider, batik, appliqué, and reverse appliqué (double snail and stair step motifs). She made excellent needlework on our new clothes for the Hmong New Year Festival. She sewed the Striped Hmong vests for everyone in the family. She hand pleated the traditional white Hmong women’s skirt which was made of more than ten yards of fabric.

Embroidery

Batik background with appliqué techniques

Cross‐stitch technique with dragon comb border design hand sewn by needlework artist Nkauj Xw Chang from