Krista Suh - DIY Rules for a WTF World: How to Speak Up, Get Creative, and Change the World

THEY HAD RED HATS ON AND THEY THOUGHT THEY HAD TAKEN AMERICA BACK. WHAT THEY NEVER COUNTED ON WAS A MILLION WOMEN IN PINK HATS THAT ARE GOING TO TAKE AMERICA FORWARD.

Van Jones, political commentator and author

On January 21, 2017, half a million womens rights supporters gathered in Washington, DC, enough of them wearing the now infamous pussyhat that they created a sea of pink. These handmade pink hats, knitted by women all over the country and all over the world, were spotted in great numbers at simultaneous marches across the globe. Total attendance at the marches was estimated between three and five million peoplemen and womenworldwide.

The pussyhat was on the cover of Time and the New Yorker, featured in countless political cartoons, and covered in publications all over the world. Jean Railla, quoted in the New Yorker, said the pussyhat is the perfect symbol Its both wholesome and sexual, handmade but shared through social media, brash enough for the meme era but also somehow incredibly sweet. Many writers, newscasters, and political commentators noted that the pussyhat became a successful symbol, despite early criticisms and mockery. The New York Times wrote the handmade pink pussy hats that marchers wore had been sneered at in the days before the march. They were called corny, girlie, a waste of time. Seen from above, though, on thousands of marchers, their wave of color created a powerful image.

The pussyhat, the sea of pink, the symbol of resistance, the greatest performance art piece of our time (said by people who are not my mom) made a huge public statement. As the creator of the Pussyhat Project, I found myself overwhelmed in the days that followed the Womens March, beset by well-meaning ideas and opportunities from all sides. We could be a nonprofit, we could design hats for all marches and every cause, we could license the pussyhat and make a killing, we could send out daily or weekly calls to action to the resistance fighters, and so on.

All of these possibilities made sense, and I began to feel like following them was part of my duty. But my intuition was telling me otherwise. I didnt want to operate out of scarcity (Theres no time! You must capitalize on this moment NOW or it will go away!) and I didnt want to respond frenetically or reactively. The Pussyhat Project was designed to empower women, and after the Womens March, I needed to direct that empowering attention and care to myself.

The more I listened to my inner voice, the more I felt that the calls I was hearing from the nonprofit sectorthe ones laser-focused on daily calls to action and consistently keeping the troops ralliedwerent really being directed at me. Knowledgeable, competent people were already doing this important work. They didnt need me.

I felt I was most needed in a scary and often dismissed place: the personal sphere, the realm of the innermost thoughts and feelings of women who feel crushed by the patriarchy, restricted by their lack of choice, and tortured by feelings of self-loathing. I didnt want to lead the charge in the way people wanted me to, even expected me to. Yes, the pussyhat made a big public splash and impressed reporters and attracted celebrated actors and thinkers and commentators and people prominent in the public sphere, but it also affected womens rights supporters personally.

Thank you for giving me a way to channel my grief, many knitters told me. I didnt know what to do with myself in the days after the election, and the Pussyhat Project was the first thing that was able to lift me out of my depression and give me the feeling I could do something. Knitting a pussyhat, contrary to its frivolous reputation, was an action that was deeply political and also deeply personal. Weve all heard the slogan the personal is political, first used in the womens movements of the 1960s and 70s. In our current movement, that sentiment is powerfully at play all over the country and the world.

My next step used the same blend of personal action for political change. I wanted to help women across the land be less afraid of speaking up. I wanted to help them to speak their minds, to live their best lives.

My instincts told me I should write a bookthis book. I wasnt always a confident, pussyhat-wearing revolutionary. For too long I was afraid to speak up about what mattered to me and why. I was a writer in Los Angeles who was afraid to use Twitter because I was terrified of sharing myself and my opinions. I was a Hillary supporter who gave her my money and my time, but not my voice. I was too anxious to explain on social media exactly why I supported her campaign. And then she lost the election to Donald Trump, and something inside me snapped. I knew I couldnt let fear keep me from speaking up. I had so much to say, and I was ready to say it. I started writing a blog post and pressing publish every day for two weeks, until the Pussyhat Project launched, and that became an extension of everything Id needed to say since the election.

After my experience with the Projects great success, I believe that there are two things that need to happen next, and simultaneously. We need to: