PussyHat

In the 2016 presidential campaign, both sides went out of their way to make the personal the political. Sometimes that took a humorless, snarling, sexist direction, but sometimes personal politics took an opposite, playful, and hilarious form. The Women’s Marches that followed the Presidential Inauguration and the Pussyhat Project, were not so much sequels to but a continuation of the campaign and were more like previous movements than unlike them. This new movement, in response to an extraordinary campaign season that continued into the Presidency, traded on satire and public protest. The Movement in the 1960s, for example, often staged public “guerrilla theater” episodes. In that era, the personal famously became the political, and items of dress often made the point visual. Yippies affected a kind of hilarious anti-military uniform, outrageous yes, funny—sometimes very funny—and political, undeniably. Even mainstream politics have joined playfulness with politics. Specifically, the now famous hats, a spontaneous protest that quickly institutionalized in what organizers have mischievously called “The Pussyhat Project,” a humorous gibe at President Trump’s past record of sexual assault—helped make the new movement both more cohesive for the sisterhood and more pointed in its message to the electorate. The organizers say: “Hold onto your hats, and wear them loudly and proudly.” The hats made joining, belonging, and rallying playful. The hats also offer an added dimension to the feminist point; knitting and crocheting are time-honored women’s activities, and knitting circles have long been a form of women’s solidarity and play. Thus, wearers now made the point that the funny hat comprises an alternative to the masculine appeal of the red “Make America Great” ball caps of the opposition’s campaign. Not all feminists love the hats, it’s important to point out, and this, too, is part of the political discourse—advocates respond simply, saying that opponents just don’t get the joke.