What can I say? I’m an inclusive feminist who believes in equality and tolerance.
I’d been looking forward to the Women’s March ever since it was announced. Post election I was feeling really down because #imwithher and the loss and subsequent trepidation about the future left me with a sadness I haven’t yet been able grasp.
While reading up on the march, and following various discussions online, I became aware of the #pussyhatproject. At first, I admit it seemed kind of foolish and (dare I say it) lame, but after seeing lots of photos of the hats tagged on Instagram, my interest was piqued and I had to try making one.
If you’ve read my other posts, you know that I just learned to knit about two months ago, but I really wanted to follow the original pussyhat pattern so I learned to read knit patterns and set about making my first hat. After finishing it, I whipped up several more; I’d invited some ladies to join me at the march, and damned if I wasn’t going to have a hat for each of them come January 21st.
Not knowing what to expect the day of, I headed into downtown Spokane with my mom, mother in law, and sister in law to meet our fellow marchers and holy shit, were we surprised. Our convention center was full and we couldn’t get inside to hear the speakers and the crowd milling outside was MASSIVE. I’d expected a couple hundred people to be there considering how our city tends to err on the more conservative side. But what we actually saw was over 8,000 people, peacefully gathered to share, laugh, hug, and support each other. Wearing our hats all together, we were greeted with smiles of appreciation, requests for photos of all us all pussy-hatted out, and compliments on the craftsmanship (gee-whiz, thanks!). These silly little speedily-knitted hats were a small statement that we were part of something, and that felt so amazing.
I can’t truly put into words what that day meant to me, or how it has lit a fire within me that has given me purpose and hope; but I will always remember the immense joy I felt, standing outside for hours on a cold January afternoon, linking arms with my brothers and sisters for equality.