Tomorrow, the women (and male allies) of America march on Washington and more than 200 other cities, including here in Chicago, where nearly 50,000 people are expected to rally in Grant Park and then walk en masse to Federal Plaza. But even before the marches, people are gathering to prepare, to make hats and buttons and signs, and to talk about their reasons for marching. There are few things more threatening to the patriarchy—or more overlooked—than a women’s crafting circle.
None of the women at the Center on Halsted was planning to go to Washington, but several were planning to march in Chicago on Saturday morning. And some, like a woman who identified herself only as Ms. J, were still trying to decide. Ms. J had come to the Center on Halsted to use the computers upstairs and then noticed what she called “the festivities” in the lobby as she was leaving. “I thought I’d learn something new,” she says. Now an hour later, she’s got a line of thick multicolored yarn in one hand and a crochet hook with a dozen stitches dangling from the end in the other. “Oh, Lord!” she mutters as a stitch slips.
It’s way easier to make a button than it is to knit a hat. All you have to do is write a slogan or draw a design, or color in a design someone else has drawn, and then the nice people at the Busy Beaver Button Company will press it into button form for you. This makes it an especially child-friendly form of protest art, and on Monday afternoon, a large crowd that is at least half small children who have the day off from school fills Busy Beaver’s small storefront/museum in Logan Square. Owner Christen Carter had anticipated making about 500 buttons between 3 and 8 PM, but by 6:30, her staff had made nearly 2,000.
Over the past few weeks, reports had been trickling in about anti-abortion activists who planned to “infiltrate” the main march in Washington, and on Monday, the march organizers removed the Texas-based anti-abortion group New Wave Feminists from its list of partners after many women pointed out on social media that the group’s anti-abortion stance didn’t fit with the march’s pro-choice message. On Facebook there was some discussion about whether this was deliberately exclusionary and if the organizers of the march were just the latest in a long line of white feminists who chose to ignore women of color or if the media was just magnifying the controversy to make the coverage more exciting. (Damned bitches spend so much time fighting, it’s no wonder they can’t get anything done.)
Yes, it’s true these pictures fail to show some less-inspiring historical truths, most notably the exclusion or segregation of women of color and the violent treatment of suffragettes who were unfortunate enough to be arrested and jailed. The past is not always a kind and noble place. These past few months have made me realize how terrifying some points of it must have been, particularly the period leading up to the Civil War and the 1960s, when everything was completely chaotic and no one knew what would happen next. Once this particular moment becomes History, these marches will either be completely forgotten, or they will be remembered as a sign of trouble or (the best possible outcome) overblown panic over a threat that never amounted to anything very serious at all.
The Hull House dining room has been transformed into a busy banner-making lab, buzzing with the sound of sewing machines and people hunting desperately for stencil letters. (“R” and “P” are especially popular.) “It’s a time of camaraderie before shit gets more real,” says Hayley Anderson, an artist who is creating a “Girl Power” banner with her friend Jennifer Fagen.
When Palicka heard about the Pussyhat Project just after Thanksgiving, she immediately marked down all pink yarn 20 percent at her store and transformed the Thursday “Knit Nights” into pussyhat-making wine and cheese nights. It was Sister Arts’s first venture into the political sphere after 12 years in business.
The last Thursday before inauguration day was a Send-Off Party for 175 pussyhats and the marchers who will be driving them to D.C. The knitted hats take the average knitter about five hours, Palicka says, but the sewn felt hats take five or ten minutes. Those will be saved for the Chicago Women’s March where Palicka, and her daughter Ona, will be marching on Saturday, along with many of the other instructors, customers, and friends of Sister Arts.
Stacy Derby, a new customer of Sister Arts, came in to pick up pussyhats for her mother and four friends. She heard about the movement and immediately called Sister Arts to purchase pussyhats when she saw the store registered on the Project’s website. Admittedly not a knitter, she’d brought wine and snacks to last week’s Knit Night to thank the Sister Arts regulars for knitting hats for her. After picking up her hats, she cracked a grin. “Can I show you guys my signs?” One read: “BUILD A WALL AROUND TRUMP. I’LL PAY.”
Palicka’s opened Sister Arts after 21 years working in the corporate world with the goal of creating what she calls “the ultimate creative sanctuary” where she would mentor women and create a community. Many instructors started as loyal customers and turned into great friends. “These women are my sisters,” Palicka says. It’s something she always wanted after a childhood with four brothers.
Jami Merrick, one of those “sisters,” is an instructor at Sister Arts who specializes in beaded lace. After her cancer diagnosis in May, the Sister Arts sisters rallied around her to cover her classes. Merrick won her battle with cancer, but says that she’s still processing the stages of grief from the election. The hats help her. “There is emotion in every single stitch,” Merrick said. “The cast on is disbelief. And then we moved into anger. And then we moved into fear. And there are all these emotions, but I’m hoping by the time we got to our bind off that there was an element of hope.”
Around the white table in the back of Sister Arts women of all ages sat knitting for other women they may never meet. Palicka was certain that this is only the beginning for Sister Arts’ activism. —Jack Ladd
