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"What in the hell would kids at that school know about peace?"

By Jenny Browne, Project Coordinator

"So, how do you spell peace?"

"Aw Miss, come on ,peace is for sissies!"

"What should I write about if I never feel peaceful?"

‘Look, why should we talk about a peaceful world if it’s not ever gonna happen? This is a waste of time."

Indeed, the questions and comments hurled toward my initial suggestion that the students at BCJJA contribute something to the "Picturing the Peaces" art show made me wonder if the whole idea would end up being a profound waste of my time. As a reporter from a local radio station rather indelicately quipped, "What in the hell would kids at that school know about peace?"

But after a month of writing, drawing, painting, sewing and cutting, I can confidently answer that the students at BCJJA know a lot about peace. They know where it hides. They know who takes it away from the streets and from their homes. They know who brings it back. They know the secret places from which their own inner peace pokes its tiny head out for a look at the bright world. And hopefully, through this project, they know a little more of the ways they can individually create peace in their own lives and, in turn, out in the world.

The inspiration for this quilt came from my desire, in the spirit of peace, for a collaborative project that included as many students as possible. The refrain I heard most often during our early writing exercises on peace was one of helplesness. In short, "the world is too far gone and I can’t do anything about it." So I decided to start at the beginning, with our own two hands, with identifying our own daily acts of peacemaking.

Through this process we found that making peace by hand means holding tightly to every daily human kindness that creates community. It means recognizing the ways in which we are all creative and sharing that lifegiving force with others. As one student commented during the project, "People don’t expect much from us." Well they should. After countless hours rethreading needles for six-foot tall young men, bandaging finger pricks and sharing countless bits of our lives while stitching them quietly together, peace doesn’t seem so unattainable. It is not too much to expect from our own hands, from each other, from the world.