Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the
Women’s March and the overwhelming DIY creativity present in protests across
the United States and the world. Everything from the personalized signs to the
hand-knitted pussyhats expressed an inventive ethos that transcended the
initial moment. People of all ages, genders, races, nationalities, sexualities,
and political interests gathered to declare opposition to the Trump
administration, with its rhetoric and policies, and claimed a personal stake in
this defiance. The innovation that resulted from this defiance, in both an
amusing and solemn fashion, melded with personal identity in such a way that it
centered the crafted object as a material that unites across difference.
Besides the cardboard and paper
signage, no crafted object was more abundant than the pussyhat, the pink,
cat-eared manifestation of the language Donald Trump used while boasting of his
success with women in the infamous Access Hollywood tape. Born from socially-conscious
knitters who connected online and in-person, the pussyhat originated with hat
patterns shared on social media and quickly became a symbolized outfit of
resistance. Women’s March protesters and organizers “invited demonstrators to
make their own, and suggested that crafters who couldn’t travel to the National
Mall make one for somebody else to wear,” [1] which ensured that it would be
widely distributed. Its prominence and DIY origins countered the outsourced,
manufactured, and commodified “Make America Great Again” red baseball caps that
were copious during the election. It was evident that the pussyhats became
symbolic of a united front against Trump’s presidency, as photographs and videos of the
hats and their wearers were widespread on social media. [2]
Los Angeles-based singer MILCK and a flash mob choir sing "Quiet" during the Women"s March on Washington.
Yet, that symbolism also revealed
tensions within broader feminist and social justice movements, as racial truths
also took center stage. The multiplicity of symbolisms of the pussyhats
showcase how the practice of making can have powerful cultural impacts with
various embedded meanings.
Pictured: Angela Peoples of the LGBTQ advocacy organization GetEQUAL at the Women's March on Washington. (Image Credit: Kevin Banatte)
The creativity of the signs and their
witty and/or potent sayings grabbed so much attention that they inspired many
listicles of simply the pictures of some of the most popular signs. [3]
Proclaiming both political affirmations and barbed mockeries of the new
president, the signs utilized personally-inspired images and text to convey
solidarity while also retaining individuality. The diversity of these messages
may lack a coherence and singularity that protests such as the March for Jobs
and Freedom in 1963 [4], but dismantling the cookie-cutter framing of what a
protester should bring or express has the potential to build more powerful
coalitions and allow for more progressive innovation. As such, the spirit of
making and crafting has the ability to reshape and rewrite the goals and
conceptions on the palimpsest of protest.
The author of this article (left) and friend at the Ann Arbor Women's March on January 21, 2017. (Image Credit: Josué Reyes)
[1]
[2]
[3]
[4] Kazin, Michael. "Signs of Our Time."
Dissent Magazine. February 2, 2017. https://www.dissentmagazine.org/blog/trump-protest-signs-of-our-time.
No comments:
Post a Comment