Pattern Preorder—Hoa Sen Tee

And just like that, it’s time for another pattern preorder. Please welcome Hoa Sen Tee!

Hoa Sen is a top-down circular yoke tee with an architectural twisted stitch and lace pattern that mimics lotus flowers, graded to fit 12 sizes between 28″-72″ bust. It uses sport or light DK weight yarn, so it’s a quick knit but still lightweight enough for summer.

You can preorder the pattern now on Ravelry or Payhip and get 20% off with the code LOTUS. The discount is live until August 3, when the full pattern will release. Preordering will get you a pdf with sizing and swatching info, tips for choosing yarns and customizing your tee, and more. The full pattern will be added to your library on August 3.

I departed from my usual inspiration pool (Western classical music, English lit, and South Carolina nature) for this design. It’s inspired by my Vietnamese heritage, which isn’t something I’ve leaned into much in my knitting career thus far. The lotus is a cultural icon in Vietnam, seen as a symbol of purity, loyalty, and enlightenment. They’ve also been a symbol of royalty and are valued for their shape and long-lasting scent.

My parents and grandparents were all born in Vietnam and came to the US after the war; both my grandfathers fought on the side of South Vietnam and the United States, so staying after the Viet Cong took over the country wasn’t an option. My dad’s family was able to leave with the US military since his dad was a translator, but my mom’s dad was captured and sent to a labor camp for six years before being released and escaping Vietnam by boat. I grew up hearing Vietnamese spoken at family reunions (one of my biggest regrets is not learning to speak it when I was younger), seeing the bits of Vietnamese culture my grandparents were able to create in their new homes, and hearing their stories.

However, I’m also a child of the West. I was given a Western classical education, might have a Southern accent depending on the day, and have never been a member of a church with other Vietnamese families (I am Protestant and most Vietnamese Christians are Roman Catholic). I’ve been immersed in European music, literature, and history my entire life. Curiously, much of this is due to the way my mom’s parents raised her. Both of them had a broad international education—my grandfather has been playing classical violin since childhood, and my grandmother is one of the most widely read people I know. My mom remembers the lights going out after curfew in communist Vietnam and my grandmother gathering the kids to hear stories she’d memorized from Cyrano de Bergerac. As a result I often feel weirdly disembodied or chameleonic, like I’m shifting fake-it-til-you-make-it style between several cultures, all of which I identify with in some way. Come to think of it, my kind-of Southern accent is probably why I can barely wrap my tongue around Vietnamese. Tonal languages don’t like twang. It just doesn’t go well.

One of my grandfathers passed away several years ago, and it’s sobered me into realizing that I won’t have access to my heritage forever. I’m trying to be more intentional about the questions I ask, and about absorbing the answers. I also want to be more intentional about incorporating all the “parts” of myself: the Southerner, the Euro/Anglophile, and the Vietnamese, in no order of importance. Being a creative person means I have an outlet for this little introspective exercise, and Hoa Sen Tee is the first result of what I hope will be many. Short sleeved and slightly cropped because the South is humid; European construction and techniques, because those are the ones I have access to as an American knitter; and lotuses, because I’m Vietnamese.

This particular motif does require me to mention something I wish I didn’t have to talk about. In America, the lotus blossom is frequently associated with ugly stereotypes of Asian women. There’s more to this than I want to go into here, but suffice it to say that Hollywood tropes don’t just stay in the movies, and the harm done in the real world is all too tangible. If you have questions, start with some research on Full Metal Jacket. It’s a deep rabbit hole down there.

The irony is that for Vietnamese people, the lotus is also a symbol of resilience and hope for the future. Lotuses grow in murky swamps and lakes, with the flowers emerging each morning on a tall stem, fragrant and untouched by the muddy water. To me, if these blooms are a symbol of Vietnamese women, they represent the tough, wise, funny, compassionate women in my family who have carved out a place for themselves in the world in spite of their circumstances. I’m thankful for them every day and hope this design honors them.