....got a weird rap for the March this year. I read quite a few articles about why no one should be wearing the beloved hats this year. And you know what? I disagree with all of them. In my humble opinion, the hats started as a symbol for one thing, but then they grew to have a much greater meaning. At the Women's March on Washington, everyone -- EVERYONE -- people of all races and ages and sexes were wearing the hats. I say "people" because that is all-encompassing in this very-specific-pronoun world we're living in now (I don't have a problem with that. I'm just being specific and general at the same time). People. People who came together to air their grievances, to bond, to share a common experience, to make our voices heard, to find courage and hope and empowerment and love in the bizarro world in which we all find ourselves now.
When I walked into the knitting shop to pick up my hat, I broke into tears at the stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of hats that people from all over Chicago had taken the time to knit or crochet and embellish or not and make available for free to the marchers. It was an emotional experience I'll never forget because what it said to me, far more than what it started out as, was that we, as people, were united in a cause and this was a symbol for that unification. It's so rare that millions of people across the globe -- across the globe! -- come together, and if a pink hat was part of that unification, how can that be a bad thing? We can give different meanings to so many things, but why turn something so good that unifies and unites into something controversial and polarizing? Don't wear it if it doesn't suit you. Don't tell me that I shouldn't. It has a meaning to me that might not be yours. Isn't that the point of it all? That we can believe in different things yet still come together in peace and love in spite of our differences? March on, oh, beloved Pussy Hat, march on!
Below is the one I chose that emotional day. The button was given to us by one of the lovely people on the Rally Bus to Washington. I gave out pink beads to our bus. They were a symbol of the March and being on the same bus. That's all. And they looked good with the hats. Every person on our bus returned wearing their hats, beads, and buttons, feeling empowered and excited and galvanized to make changes and be a part of the bigger picture. Amazing....
When I walked into the knitting shop to pick up my hat, I broke into tears at the stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of hats that people from all over Chicago had taken the time to knit or crochet and embellish or not and make available for free to the marchers. It was an emotional experience I'll never forget because what it said to me, far more than what it started out as, was that we, as people, were united in a cause and this was a symbol for that unification. It's so rare that millions of people across the globe -- across the globe! -- come together, and if a pink hat was part of that unification, how can that be a bad thing? We can give different meanings to so many things, but why turn something so good that unifies and unites into something controversial and polarizing? Don't wear it if it doesn't suit you. Don't tell me that I shouldn't. It has a meaning to me that might not be yours. Isn't that the point of it all? That we can believe in different things yet still come together in peace and love in spite of our differences? March on, oh, beloved Pussy Hat, march on!
Below is the one I chose that emotional day. The button was given to us by one of the lovely people on the Rally Bus to Washington. I gave out pink beads to our bus. They were a symbol of the March and being on the same bus. That's all. And they looked good with the hats. Every person on our bus returned wearing their hats, beads, and buttons, feeling empowered and excited and galvanized to make changes and be a part of the bigger picture. Amazing....
