Class teaches and preserves traditional Haida hat weaving

The WCA Cultural Center filled with the sweet aroma of cedar as students sat around tables, focused on their hats in progress in front of them. They dipped the strips of red and yellow cedar into bins of water and occasionally spritzed their weaving with water to keep it from drying and cracking.

Quiet chatter filled the room as they shared stories and advice.

Master weaver Holly Churchill, from Ketchikan, made her way around the room, offering helpful tips and reminding students not to get distracted by their conversation.

Churchill has taught eight classes like this one held in Wrangell in late March in various locations over the past year. The class was 40 hours, about the amount of time it takes to weave one hat, and 11 students walked away with finished or nearly finished hats after spending the week together.

Traditional weaving, and teaching it to others, is in Churchill's blood.

In the 1960s, knowledge of Haida weaving was in serious decline. Her grandmother, Selina Peratrovich, was one of few who still had that knowledge.

At the urging of her father, Churchill said, her mother Delores Churchill finally agreed to learn to weave from Peratrovich. The three women taught weaving to hundreds of people and traveled around the world to learn from other cultures, thus helping to revive the dying traditional art.

In 1982, Churchill said that there was only one woven hat at Celebration, which was made by her grandmother. But in recent years, dozens of hats have been seen at Celebration, the dance and culture festival sponsored by Sealaska Heritage Institute and held every other year in Juneau.

In addition to the classes Churchill teaches around Alaska and other parts of the world, she has three apprentices learning from her. The two-year apprenticeship is through the University of Alaska Southeast in collaboration with the Sitka Tribe of Alaska and supported by a grant from Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington. The apprentices accompany Churchill to her classes and will eventually teach classes of their own.

They are traveling to Kake after Wrangell, apprentice Kelli Hughes' hometown, where they will teach high school students to weave hats for their upcoming graduation.

Churchill won't be able to teach forever, she noted, highlighting the importance of passing her knowledge on to apprentices like Hughes. Her mother, Delores, is 95 now and taught weaving until she was 90. She still teaches language classes on Zoom, Churchill said.

The classes that Churchill leads, however, do not just teach methods of weaving. For many of the students, practicing weaving gives them a much deeper experience.

Jessica Whitaker, a student in Churchill's Wrangell class in March, wove a hat to wear at her upcoming graduation from the University of Alaska, where she will receive her bachelor's degree in business administration. She said the hat symbolizes all the hard work she has put in to earn her degree.

Whitaker also said the weaving class has been a healing experience for her. She struggles with anxiety, and typically classes like this would be stressful for her. But after one day in the class, she found the environment to be a safe space, she said.

Sharing a cultural practice with others made her feel loved, supported and connected to her heritage. Cultural activities like this provide a form of healing outside of Western medicine, Whitaker said.

Only positive energy goes into the weaving, students Sandy Churchill and Trisa Rooney explained. If they get frustrated, they take breaks and get something to eat to ensure that none of that frustration goes into the weaving.

Rooney was working on weaving a very intricate pattern into a hat for her daughter. She said that when she weaves, she often thinks of the people she is weaving for. As she wove this hat, Rooney said she thought of the hopes, dreams and wishes she has for her daughter.

Next to Rooney, Sandy Churchill worked on a hat for her son. It was larger than the other hats and had a wider brim. "I wanted it to be a bit more masculine," she said.

"They say if it's in your genes you'll remember it," Sandy Churchill said. "I thought that was malarkey." But the weaving came to her naturally, even after a 16-year hiatus. She took a weaving class with Delores Churchill 20 years ago, she said, noting how special it was to learn from both Delores and Holly Churchill. Some other students in the class had a similar experience.

She named her work "Fisherman Hat." It's a traditional worker hat she said, but she wanted it to be custom for her son who loves to fish. An important part of the process is to name the hat, Holly Churchill said. Each hat needs its own name because each has its own spirit.

The 40-hour class is only part of the process, Holly Churchill explained. Preparing the materials for weaving is two thirds of the process.

Learning to gather the raw materials herself has made her even more appreciative of the weaving, Sandy Churchill said, describing how to strip the bark off the cedar trees when the sap runs in the springtime. She explained how she is much more careful and respectful with the cedar now that she has collected it herself.

Sandy Churchill's favorite part of the class was connecting with the other students. "I work better on a team," she said. Though each student worked on their own unique hat, they committed to doing it together for the week.

As the students put the finishing touches on their hats March 29, they spent time looking at each other's work and remarked just how beautifully each hat had turned out. Some students wiped away happy tears as they put their hats atop their heads and posed for photos.

Churchill's grandmother was once asked why she taught Haida weaving to so many different cultures, specifically white people. When people sit around a table together and weave and learn from each other, Peratrovich responded, they find that they have more similarities than differences.