Doubtless you are all aware of the horrible occupation of Minneapolis by ICE forces and the chaos and violence they perpetrated throughout the month of January. You may be less familiar with one of the ways the people of Minnesota, a culture with deep Scandinavian roots, have signaled their resistance.

People are knitting and wearing “Melt the ICE” hats. These red, pointed, tasseled, stocking caps are reminiscent of the ones worn by the Norwegian people as a sign of resistance against the Nazi occupation of Norway during World War II. Those hats became so prevalent and potent the Nazis banned wearing them!  

Today, knitting and wearing these hats is a way to show support for immigrant neighbors, protest the work of ICE, and raise funds for organizations that help immigrants and other victims of ICE. I’ve already knit one “Melt the ICE” hat, with requests for several more. 

Knitting has a long history of being a tool for political resistance. While often dismissed as a harmless women’s craft, knitting has in fact been a way for people to come together to reject tyranny, subvert occupiers, and make collective statements against oppression. Let me offer a few historical examples.

During the Colonial Era in America, women boycotted British cloth in favor of homespun and knitted textiles. This act of resistance spoke loudly against British taxation and also weakened Britain’s textile industry. A similar movement took place in India during the struggle for independence, when Gandhi promoted a boycott of British goods, especially textiles. The spinning wheel became a powerful symbol of self-reliance, independence, and resistance to British colonialism. Interestingly, during those same boycotts, the working people of northern English textile mill cities like Lancashire greeted Gandhi warmly during a visit, despite the serious harm the boycott caused their own economies and livelihoods.

During World War II, knitting was the perfect innocent foil to pass important information to the Allies. Morse code was hidden in stitch patterns. Some women spies, as they traveled, hid documents and microfilm in their knitting bags which were rarely inspected. In Belgium, the Resistance used a combination of knit and purl stitches to show the movement of trains carrying German troops or ammunition.

Another example, perhaps more troubling, comes from the French Revolution. Les tricoteuses (the knitting women) were women, sympathetic to the cause of the revolution, who knitted as they attended meetings, trials, and even executions by guillotine. It was a kind of public performance aimed at protesting women being barred from formal participation in the Revolution. (Who remembers Madame Defarge in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities?)

More recently, a movement called “Craftivism” has emerged as a voice for social change. Art and music have been at the forefront of social change for centuries. Why not handcrafts like knitting? Perhaps you remember the pink “Pussy Hats” worn at the Women’s March in 2017, following Trump’s first election. It was, of course, an unmistakable response to the vulgar phrase he spoke about grabbing women.  

Craftivism encourages knitting and other handcrafts as a rejection of the industrialization and mass production of clothing in favor of slow, intentional production, not unlike the Slow Food movement. It promotes the gathering of people to create things and nurture community in an increasingly individualistic and fragmented world.

As I mentioned earlier, I am knitting several “Melt the ICE” hats. It may seem like a meaningless or even futile activity. What can knitting really do to stop the spread of authoritarian violence in our country? The obvious answer is probably nothing.  

And yet—it does something for me. It does something for my soul.

Several months ago, I wrote a blog here, What Knitting Teaches Me About Life. In a world that seems to be unraveling, where “the wrong seems oft so strong,” knitting allows me to claim that beauty and community are still present. It reminds me that I am not alone, that there are others with me, willing to do the work of resistance. 

Knitting may even reflect the Divine since the God we worship is described as the one who “knit us together in our mother’s womb.” And do we not follow a Savior who compared the Reign of God to a tiny mustard seed, a little bit of yeast, a woman sweeping her house in search of a lost coin? So often it is the small and the seemingly insignificant that change history. “Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” I think especially of the crucifixion of a peasant outside the city walls of Jerusalem two thousand years ago.