“Washtub Blues” by Alison Saar is a stunning example of seeing something as one thing and then seeing it as something else, something deeper. At first glace you feel a twinge of guilt because obviously the subject is a hardworking woman who probably made minimal pay and spent her life taking care of someone else’s family. No doubt her back hurt at the end of a long day.

I first saw this work while sitting in a meeting in the President’s office of a Los Angeles museum where I had just been hired. It was hung next to other art pieces from previous exhibitions. This one caught my eye. I just stared. I was mesmerized. I remember my throat gulping from heartbreak. Both heartbreak for this woman I felt a deep spiritual connection and for myself. When I was young, Leola and then Bernice helped my working mom take care of us. It was as if this richly deep blue print had my family woven into the rice paper that it is printed on. Bernice was my second mom all the way through college, by then helping my grandparents. I was devastated when she and Leola died. Especially losing Bernice, it was the same heartbreak as losing a parent. But now, in this meeting – in which I was obviously very tuned out of – there she was. There was Leola. There was Bernice.

After four years of working at the museum, I decided to take on a new adventure. I hinted that I would love a copy of that print – they had two left in the museum store. The staff surprised me with it beautifully hand-framed as a ‘thank you’ gift on my last day. I cried. Later that night, I cried again when I hung it in my home. For the three years since that day, with each passing moment, my tears have turned to joy, my guilt has turned to respect. I smile and nod with gratitude for their meaningful roles in my childhood.

Recently I researched the print. The stunningly talented Alison Saar had written:

“When I was thinking about this print for the Women of the West Museum (part of the Autry National Center), it occurred to me that most of the famous  black women in the West began as laundresses or cooks. They were self-made survivors who became property owners, who achieved success by starting from the bottom. Often, they used their money to help others. Ultimately they are heroic. They made their menial, unrewarding work meaningful, maybe not for themselves but for others. Housekeepers and nannies have a huge impact on people’s lives and they are rarely recognized. Often they’re invisible; you don’t even notice them. That’s why in this print of a laundress you see her from behind, with her face reflected in the tub of water”.

That first-glance twinge was soon replaced by a tear. And then a smile. And then love. Love for two heroic women who cared so selflessly for my family. I had gone beyond the surface, deeper as the artist desired me to go in her storytelling – all at once in a reflection in the water. My heart was touched the way that my eyes had been at first glance. I had a way to honor their unsung heroism. No longer invisible. They were front and center on my living room wall. We were reunited. They were home. I was home.