My First Handmade Thobe Just Turned One! What is its legacy?

When I first finished my thobe, I threw a whole party to celebrate! Okay, not really… I got engaged and happened to be at the finish line of putting this dress together when we we were scheduling our private religious wedding ceremony (Katib Kitaab) on this day a year ago.

BUT I did specifically ask my now-husband to celebrate our wedding anniversary on the day of our wedding reception (two months later) so that this day is exclusively dedicated to honor my thobe. I may or may not have also told the wedding photographer to focus specifically on my dress so that I could kill two birds with one stone by photographing this beautiful occasion and of course documenting the legal signing of my marriage :)

People might think this is a little bit extreme, but creating this garment from scratch did not only take *TWO* years of patience, hard work, and an incredible amount of learning (see here for stats), but it holds the story of an entire season in my life. What I’m celebrating today is not simply a beautifully embroidered dress, but the Palestinian Panamanian woman in the diaspora who intentionally chose to spend approximately 234.5 HOURS to revive a centuries-old Palestinian tradition in her own, unique way.

YUP. That’s literally what I accomplished when I finished my first handmade thobe.

If you’ve been following me through this journey for even just a little while, then you’ll know that I am OBSESSED with the idea of embedding your story in a dress through its tatreez — this is the centuries-old Palestinian tradition that I’m referencing.

Most people see an embroidered dress like mine and think something like, “oh that is beautiful” or “I love recognizing Palestine through a dress" or “I didn’t realize Palestinian embroidery is so intricate and colorful”… at least that’s what I’ve been told when wearing this beauty out in the world.

But what our Palestinian ancestors stitched was so much MORE than the surface-level beauty and basic Palestinian identification!

I read somewhere that our stories are our legacy and for centuries, Palestinian women have been telling STORIES through tatreez. Stories of their own individual lives and stories of the Palestine they witnessed and experienced. They chose colors that meant something to them, designs that meant something to them, and parts of what we know as Palestine that meant something to them. Through the motifs that represent the life and earth of the Palestine of the time, they ingrained stories of themselves and by extension, of all of Palestine, through the stitches on their dress. Their legacy is the stories of their Palestine told between stitches.

On the surface, the story of my first handmade thobe is one that represents my specific upbringing, family, and personality… Its legacy, however, is the idea that I can connect to my Palestinian roots through this practice of telling a story through tatreez on a dress REGARDLESS of how I came to be the person that I am, where I am in the world, and how I decide to practice the rest of my life.

What story would you tell? What legacy do you want to leave behind?

Head over to @linasthobe on instagram to join the conversation — Let’s manifest what could be in 2024.