When a Logo is a Celebration

2013

It was unlike any church service I’d ever been to—the farthest thing from church I’d experienced in the states. We’d walked a couple miles to get there. It lasted for hours. I couldn’t understand much of it, but it moved me spiritually, emotionally, challenged my beliefs, and opened me up to the wondrous range of humanity.  

What I still hold onto today, and what influenced the logo for The Women’s Bakery, was the dancing. That Sunday, congregants of all age groups—the youngest children to the oldest widows, danced with a sort of confidence, a strength that comes with tradition and deep knowledge. It wasn’t a showy dance that people do at clubs or parties. It wasn’t self-aware, like so many of us do who never took dance lessons. It wasn’t sexual or silly—it was neither perfect nor performative. It was a storytelling sort of dance that isn’t about the dancer, but about the tradition. I’ve not seen dancing like this before. It was honest and simple. It was bold. 

There were a few dances where women would stretch out their arms, sort of roll their wrists and point their fingertips up, and then sway/stomp from side to side. The rocking was like they were on a boat or paddle board—slow and subtle. Markey explained to me that this dance celebrates the harvest, and is performed at weddings and important ceremonies. The extended arms represented cow horns, a symbol of the animal so integral to their farming culture. The dance took on the form of the cow to celebrate the bounty. 

When Markey asked me to design the logo for The Women’s Bakery, it was that sense of joyous abundance that I wanted to capture. Instead of a more literal loaf of bread or a shaft of wheat, I wanted the logo to embody the essence of joy that the dancers showed me at church that day. I wanted it to convey that steady, strong sway the women exhibited in their movements. I wanted the logo to honor their tradition. I didn’t want it to be about the bread, but about the celebration. 

From what I understand, the first group of women who saw the logo cheered and clapped, and started dancing immediately. 

I’ve been doing creative work for over a decade now, with lots of non-profits, b-corps and small businesses, and it’s so fulfilling. But I’m still humbled every time I see a picture of a women in East Africa wearing a shirt with that logo on it. I’m amazed each time I review a new batch of photos of strong women baking bread. I love the new creative challenges TWB brings to me as they grow and change. I’m in awe when I hear stories of villages who have gained access to breads and steady income, and changed households because of The Women’s Bakery. And I’m proud when donors catch the excitement and support the work. 

My experience at that church reminded me that we’re all here on this earth, celebrating small, ordinary things—like a harvest—that are truly big things. And that’s what The Women’s Bakery is all about. It’s about a simple loaf of bread, changing the life of a woman forever. I’m so honored to be a part of that. 

The Story Behind the Logo

Slightly lopsided, with uneven cement grounding the stakes, it was still a rather perfect moment.

Perfect, because a man called Serugendo (coming from the Kinyarwanda word “urugendo”, meaning journey) was the one hammering our sign into the ground. He, with TWB guard, Steve, of course. Stick around TWB Headquarters for a while and you too will see – there’s a lot of hands, minds, and support in every nook and cranny.

In a lovely picture of irony, Meg and I stood back to admire the sign in front of us: “The Women’s Bakery.” After years of planning, learning, and dreaming – this idea of bread and empowerment was really happening. It has been a journey.

The weeks following the placement of our sign were full of interesting questions, calls, and chatter. Passersby were excited to understand more fully what we do – and it gave us an opportunity to explain. Our logo in our signature yellow-gold color was in a prominent place for all to see. The logo features a woman with outstretched arms, fingers held up, conveying the image of traditional Rwandan dance. This is a posture that represents the power of a cow with lengthy long-horns, and also alludes to celebration for harvest for the season of crops. When you see a dance like that, with dirt rising from the pounding of feet to earth, it’s an incredibly moving experience. It stirs a strength from within.

Because it is reminiscent of Rwandan dance, we received interesting inquiries about dancing lessons or performances that would be occurring at our office. These made us laugh and create another entry-point for what the symbol means and how it translates to what we do. We don’t teach dance, we would gently tell our friends, we teach women how to maintain a business, how to incorporate nutrition into her life, and how to bake bread. Rooted in empowerment, the woman in our logo channels all of these things.

And so, because we don’t teach dance, we are excited to share the real story behind the logo. The logo was crafted by Darsey Landoe, a graphic designer in Portland and friend of Markey.

Markey introduced me to so many people and experiences in Rwanda, and blew both my worldview and view of myself wide open. One thing that stood out to me was watching people dance at church one Sunday. Women, men, kids, all dancing and singing and banging a giant drum with an uninhibited enthusiasm. Not self-aware like Americans, but big, loud, clear, honest, true. Dancing for no one but themselves. That image is stamped hard in my memory. I want to live my life like they danced their dance that day. 

When Markey asked me to do the logo for TWB, I thought back to that moment in Rwanda. Markey told me the dance the women did with their arms out was meant to literally represent cows, and metaphorically represent harvest. I didn’t want a cute logo with a loaf of bread. I wanted something with meaning. That was it.