The Blue Coat

Goddard College, Plainfield, VT

I found a blue coat in a thrift shop. It reminded me of the one my mother bought me when I was 12, a cerulean blue corduroy coat with a hood. I wore that coat on the first day in my new junior high, in Iowa City. I was embarrassed and visible. I wanted to disappear. This thrift store coat looked very different but was the same color and brought me back to that moment. I couldn’t leave it. I bought it and took it home and put it on a plastic hanger. I stretched a large canvas and hung the coat on the top edge with scarfs on either side. It became a painting with no paint. I hung it up on my bedroom wall. I dismantled it sometime later, had it cleaned and hung it in the back of the closet. It stayed there for years until I folded it and packed it in my suitcase to take to Goddard. I was going to do a performance with it.

I brought it into Considered Spaces, the presentation segment. The blue coat was held on a white hanger against the wall, and I began to talk. I talked about the story of how I came to the coat and then said that I had never tried it on before. I began to unbutton the coat and slipped it on. I began to cry. It fit, which surprised me, and I talked about being 12 on my first day in a new school. I tried to walk like that 12-year-old. Then the coat was warm, and I felt comforted. Laywan was the first to respond. “It looks warm,” she said and smiled. I was asked, “How did you feel?” “Vulnerable” was my reply.