Enslaved people traveling the Underground Railroad risked death if they spoke aloud about their plans to flee. Instead, the story goes, they communicated in code through quilts hung on clotheslines.
A quilted “monkey wrench” pattern referenced a blacksmith who traveled between plantations indicating when it was safe to escape. A “bear’s paw” quilt block referenced the winding path one would have to take through the woods. The “bowtie” pattern advised dressing in one’s finest garments, as a disguise.
The authenticity of this story is the subject of debate, but its reflection of resourcefulness, ingenuity, and tribulations continues to inspire.
Two centuries later, a number of women in Oakland are recreating the Underground Railroad quilt. It’s one of the annual “challenge” projects that members of the African American Quilt Guild of Oakland can opt to take on.
The guild, currently celebrating its 25th anniversary, is a group of mostly Black, female quilters — beginners and pros alike — who support one another’s work, put on art shows, and educate the public.
A primary goal of the guild is to preserve and celebrate African American quilting traditions, some of which were carried to Oakland from the Deep South during the Great Migration. Other traditions originated in the Bay Area. The late founder Esther Pancho launched the group in 2000 at the West Oakland library to honor those cultural contributions, said current president Marie Taylor.
African Americans began quilting on plantations before the Civil War, Taylor said. Enslaved people pieced together worn-out clothing and other fabric scraps for warmth. “As a result, the quilts were utilitarian, but developed a design pattern that in some instances was similar to what quilting in West Africa looked like, like Kente cloth,” Taylor said. That style later evolved into “art quilts” and “story quilts,” like artist Faith Ringgold’s narrative quilts.
“Our quilts are much more alive — the use of color is really characteristic of African American quilts,” Taylor explained. Like jazz music, traditional Black quilting employs classical expertise but adopts a different rhythm and embraces improvisation, she said.
The guild’s preservation mission has taken on a newfound urgency in the current era, members said. African American history and celebrations are being stripped from websites and calendars under the Trump administration’s anti-DEI directives.
Some of the roughly 80 members of the Oakland guild quilt in African American styles, or use African fabric in their work. Others prefer European quilting techniques or employ methods of their own creation.
“We have some of the most incredible artists, it just happens to be in the form of quilting,” said member Cassandra Knight. To be a “quilt,” a piece simply has to have a top, a back, and a cushion in the middle, with stitching that goes through all three layers to hold them together and create warmth.
“I don’t fit into a box,” said another member, LaQuita Tummings. Her 100% hand-stitched quilts are wonderfully textured, with materials jumping off the fabric. One of her quilts portrays her daughter as an empress; another displays the cover of a Toni Morrison book.
“I’ve always done my own thing, that hasn’t changed. I do it because it’s a place of freedom,” said Tummings, who grew up in Richmond and has been quilting since 1976. But with the guild, which she joined around its launch in 2000, Tummings can do her “own thing” alongside others.
“I appreciate being with other women of color, and we’re all being creative,” she said. What the diverse guild members share is a reliance on the group for camaraderie and skill-building.
Knight comes from a Mississippi quilting family. As relatives aged, she became concerned about the tradition dying out. So she picked it up a number of years ago and immediately took to it.
Her creations don’t exactly resemble her predecessors’. Her grandmother quilted out of necessity, trimming pieces off her husband’s overalls. Conversely, Knight’s mother teases her for her penchant for expensive fabric.
But Knight has found her own way of preserving her family’s legacy. She sews an old piece of denim into each quilt she makes, to remember her grandmother.
Swapping fabric and words of encouragement
A recent guild meeting at the West Oakland library could more aptly be called a marketplace.
Quilted items made by members — purses, greeting cards, pillow cases, brooches, bowl cozies; basically anything but a blanket — abounded. A free table offered up fabric and vintage sewing patterns.
The “meeting” part was confined to the first several minutes, before attendees were implored to “buy, buy, buy” each other’s creations.
There were sign-ups for a retreat. A reminder about an upcoming “Christmas in July” gathering to get started on holiday crafts. An assurance that a Stanford University Juneteenth event the guild is showing at is on, though it was almost canceled due to pressure from the Trump administration. There was a request for volunteers — and their more hardy grandchildren — to help install their 25th anniversary exhibit at Lakeview library branch.
Member Renea Rambo started quilting as an antidote to grief, following her mother’s death many years ago. A therapist suggested she pursue an activity to “try to bring joy.”
Rambo had sewn clothing for a long time, but quilting was a new beast. She immersed herself in classes, trying out different styles. A former drug-and-alcohol counselor, she got used to the word “stash” referring to piles of fabric instead of substances.
Rambo has made several “face quilts,” where seemingly random scraps of fabric come together to form a detailed, realistic visage, with light hitting all the right places. She said she still has room to grow more confident, though. The guild helps with that. “You get a lot of encouragement,” she said.
At that meeting, everyone wore quilted name tags. Knight had on a sweatshirt from Target’s 2024 Gee’s Bend line.
Gee’s Bend quilters are generations of Black women from a small, rural area of Alabama who, since the 1800s, have hand-sewn colorful, improvisational works. The quilters are descendants of slaves on the Gee plantation, and for most of their existence, they have not received recognition, let alone financial compensation. But in recent decades, their work has been celebrated for its major contribution to American art history.
Another renowned Black improvisational quilter, Rosie Lee Tompkins, was born in Arkansas but lived for much of her life in the East Bay, in Richmond. A large collection of her work is now housed permanently at the Berkeley Art Museum.
A new exhibit opening at the museum on June 8, called “Routed West: Twentieth-Century African American Quilts in California,” follows the migration of Black quilting traditions from the South to the West Coast.
Of course, curator Elaine Yau is a member of the African American Quilt Guild of Oakland.
These days, guild members’ quilts are rarely utilitarian like their ancestors’, more often expressions of art or emotion or simply a fun hobby instead.
Their encouragement of one another can take the shape of healthy peer pressure. When a speaker at the recent meeting referenced someone who churns out 10 to 15 quilts a year, attendees guffawed.
“If you guys are serious quilters, you gotta be quilting,” the speaker taunted in response. “That machine should be buzzing at least every other day.”
