In early October, Tracy Wright gathered with a group of fellow knitters outside the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) facility in Portland, Oregon. They brought their “weapons of mass construction,” aiming to showcase a sense of normalcy amidst political turbulence.

At the time, President Donald Trump had ordered National Guard troops to the city, asserting that ICE facilities were “under siege” by anti-fascists and other domestic groups. Wright sought to provide a welcoming presence to immigrants arriving for appointments, saying, “I didn’t want to go by myself. I wasn’t sure what to expect.” These women, eventually dubbing themselves “Knitters Against Fascism,” returned week after week with their knitting needles and lawn chairs.

The “knit-ins” gained traction through word of mouth and social media. A local knitwear designer, Michele Lee Bernstein, decided to join after hearing about the protests. She felt that a group of knitters calmly crafting provided a stark contrast to the chaos suggested by media narratives. “It made it easy to participate,” she noted, as solidarity grew among the participants.

During her second protest, Bernstein unveiled a hat inspired by the iconic Portland Frog, a symbol prominent in local demonstrations. She emphasized that small acts can lead to significant change, and soon, her pattern was used by a church group that raised $550 for a food bank, amidst high demand due to cuts in SNAP benefits. “We’re working together to do something good,” Bernstein reflected.

Wright and Bernstein are part of a long-standing tradition of fiber artists who use their craft to influence political discourse. Coined “craftivism” by writer Betsy Greer in 2003, this movement has been a means for knitters, crocheters, and other artists to voice their stances against social issues like environmental degradation and wealth inequality. From the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo in Argentina to the Aids Memorial Quilt, the success of these initiatives often lies in the community they foster.

Political scientist Hahrie Han, a MacArthur Fellow at Johns Hopkins University, observes that solidarity in movements often emerges from personal relationships more than a commitment to a cause itself. “People are more likely to continue protesting if they don’t want to let down their friends,” she explained, highlighting the importance of community within civic engagement.

Shannon Downey discovered the unifying power of craft after a traumatic event near her home. After witnessing a shooting, she felt the need to express her thoughts on gun violence, leading her to stitch a representation of a gun. Initially a private endeavor, her shared work grew into a community movement as others emulated her pattern, leading to thousands of embroidered guns sent to her as part of a grassroots initiative.

This initiative culminated in a fundraiser for a Chicago-based nonprofit focused on youth impacted by gun violence, where Downey raised $5,000 through sales of the embroidered works. She soon recognized the potential of combining craft with political activism and began hosting workshops that fostered movement-building through creativity.

Craft projects like the “pussyhat” worn during the early days of Trump’s presidency illustrate how these activities can foster identity among participants. For many, crafting represents a bold expression of their political beliefs. Downey’s recent publication, *Let’s Move the Needle: An Activism Handbook for Artists, Crafters, Creatives and Makers*, encourages readers to explore their potential for activism.

Community building is essential for effective movements, Han points out. It’s crucial for individuals to understand their collective impact and to find a sense of belonging in civic engagement. Downey emphasizes creating welcoming environments at her workshops, promoting a strong foundation for future activism.

Craft communities often transcend political differences, focusing instead on shared humanity. Projects like the Loose End Project connect crafters with families who have lost loved ones, creating a space for connection and understanding. Other initiatives, such as Knit the Rainbow and the Liberty Crochet Project, target specific social issues, mobilizing crafters to create change.

Caroline Larsen, co-owner of the Danish yarn brand Knitting for Olive, attests to the power of crafting as a form of political resistance. She noted how their fundraising efforts have successfully supported various causes since 2020. “Supporting people in need matters more to us than having an impressive number on our bottom line,” she stated, reinforcing the connection between craft and community.

Ultimately, many fiber artists view their work as inherently political. “Creating in a time of destruction, that is resistance,” said Downey. Craftivism allows for the expression of anger and frustration while centering joy in community engagement. “You can’t live in anger; creating communities around shared passion makes the work sustainable,” she concluded.