Red is for resistance

Red yarn sloped over the laps of five women as they sat darning it, chatting with each other in a sunlit living room over the weekend and creating what they said are tools of resistance. 

“I love that this is claiming back the color red,” Phyllis Segal, a Hospice of Martha’s Vineyard trustee and senior advisor for Adult and Community Education (ACE MV), said. She was the organizer of the small cohort of Islanders who recently met to knit hats in Segal’s West Tisbury home. 

The five women, who span multiple generations and various careers, discussed many topics on Sunday afternoon while their knitting needles clinked. A playlist of indie-rock and folk music played in the background. Segal’s dog, Stella, lounged next to her.

The group talked about the violence they’ve seen plastered on the news in recent months from Minneapolis, the athleticism on display at the Olympics, their jobs, the wave of “fake news” and how to discern truth, and what they did that day. Conversation wove as effortlessly as their hands, which were rarely still. Their movements were habitual, and their attention was on each other. 

As one of them pointed out, the yarn, a bright red, resembled the color of the “Make America Great Again” caps that have been synonymous with support for sitting president Donald J. Trump since he first ran a campaign for the seat in 2015. The hats the Island women were making, however, are part of an effort against his administration’s actions. 

“I came of age in the antiwar movement, and the [American] flag did not represent us,” Segal, now 80, said. Renewed meaning in common symbols during times of division, she added, is nothing new. 

And as it turns out, the roots of red hats go much deeper.

A knitted, close-fitting red cap was once a quiet yet fashionable defiance to Nazi occupation by Norwegians during World War II. In a swell of outrage and grief following clashes between federal agents and community members this winter, including the killing of civilians, a knitting shop in St. Louis, Minn. released a pattern to reclaim the hats, using that storied history as a guide. 

The pattern was publicized on a social media site for knitters and crocheters called Ravelry, along with a fundraiser for those affected by federal raids in Minneapolis. The pattern is $5 to purchase. So far, thousands of red hats have been completed. And according to the Needle and Skein social media page in early February, $650,000 has been raised in support so far for the St. Louis Park Emergency Program, which helps those affected by raids pay their rent and bills, as well as for the Immigrant Rapid Response Fund.

The effort crossed state lines soon after it began this January, and became symbolic nationwide of anti-ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) protests.

Segal had seen a New York Times article about the rise of knitters and headwear with the message “Melt the ICE” and reached out to her friends to start an Island version. Four women responded and quickly planned a meet-up.

“People are pissed off, and women take action,” said Dawn Combra, 65, who works at Vineyard Knitworks in Tisbury, as she worked on her hat. “Everything that happens, we rise up.”

Ellie Oliver, an educational support person at the Chilmark School, agreed. “Recently, I feel like there’s been a rise of patriotism, but through the lens of resistance,” Oliver, 25, said. “We are not our government.”

The group said it was specifically the quiet nature of this act of protest that stuck out to them. They spoke about the intensity of the violence this year, and the escalation of divided rhetoric.

Polly Clive, a volunteer coordinator for the food pantry with Island Grown Initiative and one of the knitters, recalled ICE’s presence on the Island last spring, the echoes of which are still being felt by communities of immigrants on the Vineyard.

“When ICE was on the Island, nobody would come to the pantry,” Clive, 54, remembered. The pantry staff and volunteers had to get creative in response. They brought food to peoples’ doors, knocking quietly then leaving, so as not to incite fear.

“It really made me proud to be a part of Island Grown, and this community in general,” Clive said of their adjustment. 

The group discussed the small yet important acts of kindness that are rooted in the community. From a quiet knock on the door with a bag of groceries to a red hat in the crowd, compounded action makes a difference, they said.

“A while ago, I committed to myself to do at least one thing every day,” said Segal.

Their hands gracefully dipped and rose as laughter reverberated through the space. The dog slept. One hat was completed at a time, with some taking their projects home with them as the sunlight faded.

“Walking down the street and seeing somebody else with one of these hats, it uplifts my spirit,” retired clinical social worker Kate Lingren, 66, said. “It doesn’t change anything in the White House, but it helps me feel not as alone … It’s little things like this that give me hope.”