Our Story

If you knew me before my viral crochet videos, you’d likely know that my crocheting journey began at the age of nine. My dad took my sister and I to the store to pick out our very own crochet hooks for a school project. We both picked out the same red G/4.25MM crochet hook - we’re identical twins would you expect anything less? I actually still have that hook in my collection, and it’s in heavy rotation 18 years later.

My first and most used crochet hook.

My teta (grandmother in Arabic) taught me how to crochet with no patterns, just as she learned from her mother and sisters. She was a creative above all, a woman with endless skills. From methodically rolling the tiniest grape leaves, baking hundreds of date cookies for friends and family to crocheting, knitting, and tatreez (palestinian cross-stitch embroidery); her talent was limitless. My fondest memories consist of me growing up on her kitchen floor pitting dates, pickling jalapeños, stuffing dumplings. Tasks that required attention to detail and dexterous hands. So it’s no surprise to me that I developed an interest in the art of interlocking loops of yarn. Teta and I started with doilies on my weekend visits to her house. My novice hands feebly attempted to replicate her perfect circles. But Teta’s hands were patient and precise, strong and graceful, clever and masterful. Her hands told stories, preserved history, they were her form of self expression.

My first attempt at crocheting a doily. Ended up turning it into a beanie for my teddy bear.

Over the years we developed a rhythm, Teta and I. Settled into the couch together with our WIPs (works in progess), we crocheted in tandem while she shared tales of her childhood. How the Palestinian fruits and vegetables tasted better than anything we had here. How she was forced to stop her education in the 1st grade. How she kept all her belongings meticulously neat as a child. How they used to grind red rocks into powder to use as blush. How you could drop her off at the clock tower in Yaffa now and she would know how to walk home. It was through learning about her upbringing that I understood why Teta’s hands were constantly moving, even in times of uncertainty.

I miss Teta’s hands, with her henna stained fingernails. I miss their generosity, the way they made everything with love. I can’t not cry every time I think of her, Allah yerhamha (may god rest her soul). But when I look down at my own hands I realize she’s not so far away. The hands she trained are a reflection of hers, a constant reminder of our time together. And now my hands tell their own stories, preserve history, and I get to share that with you all!

Teta’s hands

My mission with Moffries is to keep my Teta’s memory alive, her Palestinian identity, and her never ending love and support for woman’s education and creativity. With our relaunch, I am committed to pledging at least 2% of all future sales to an organization that supports (through resources and education) Palestinian woman entrepreneurs/crafters. I will update y’all in a new blogpost with further details on the organization I end up choosing, their background and their impact. Until then, thank you for your unwavering support as I navigate this still new territory of owning a small business, talk soon! If you’ve made it this far use “TETASHANDS” for money off your order until 01/07