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Letty Cottin Pogrebin wants Jews to own up to the corrosive power of shame
(JTA) — When a lawyer for Donald Trump asked E. Jean Carroll why she didn’t scream while allegedly being raped by Donald Trump, I thought of Letty Cottin Pogrebin. In her latest book, “Shanda: A Memoir of Shame and Secrecy,” she writes about being assaulted by a famous poet — and how the shadow of shame kept women like her silent about attacks on their own bodies.
That incident in 1962, she writes, was “fifty-eight years before the #MeToo movement provided the sisterhood and solidarity that made survivors of abuse and rape feel safe enough to tell their stories.”
Now 83, Pogrebin could have coasted with a memoir celebrating her six decades as a leading feminist: She co-founded Ms. magazine, its Foundation for Women and the National Women’s Political Caucus. She served as president of Americans for Peace Now and in 1982 blew the whistle on antisemitism in the feminist movement.
Instead, “Shanda” is about her immigrant Jewish family and the secrets they carried through their lives. First marriages that were kept hidden. An unacknowledged half-sister. Money problems and domestic abuse. An uncle banished for sharing family dirt in public.
“My mania around secrecy and shame was sparked in 1951 by the discovery that my parents had concealed from me the truth about their personal histories, and every member of my large extended family, on both sides, was in on it,” writes Pogrebin, now 83. “Their need to avoid scandal was so compelling that, once identified, it provided the lens through which I could see my family with fresh eyes, spotlight their fears, and, in so doing, illuminate my own.”
“Shanda” (the Yiddish word describes the kind of behavior that brings shame on an entire family or even a people) is also a portrait of immigrant New York Jews in the 20th century. As her father and mother father move up in the world and leave their Yiddish-speaking, Old World families behind for new lives in the Bronx and Queens, they stand in for a generation of Jews and new Americans “bent on saving face and determined to be, if not exemplary, at least impeccably respectable.”
Pogrebin and I spoke last week ahead of the Eight Over Eighty Gala on May 31, where she will be honored with a group that includes another Jewish feminist icon, the writer Erica Jong, and musician Eve Queler, who founded her own ensemble, the Opera Orchestra of New York, when she wasn’t being given chances to conduct in the male-dominated world of classical music. The gala is a fundraiser for the New Jewish Home, a healthcare nonprofit serving older New Yorkers.
Pogrebin and I spoke about shame and how it plays out in public and private, from rape accusations against a former president to her regrets over how she wrote about her own abortions to how the Bible justifies family trickery.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I found your book very moving because my parents’ generation, who like your family were middle-class Jews who grew up or lived in the New York metropolitan area, are also all gone now. Your book brought back to me that world of aunts and uncles and cousins, and kids like us who couldn’t imagine what kinds of secrets and traumas our parents and relatives were hiding. But you went back and asked all the questions that many of us are afraid to ask.
I can’t tell you how good writing it has been. I feel as though I have no weight on my back. And people who have read it gained such comfort from the normalization that happens when you read that others have been through what you’ve been through. And my family secrets are so varied — just one right after the other. The chameleon-like behavior of that generation — they became who they wanted to be through pretense or actual accomplishment.
In my mother’s case, pretense led the way. She went and got a studio photo that made it look like she graduated from high school when she didn’t. In the eighth grade, she went up to her uncle’s house in the north Bronx and had her dates pick her up there because of the shanda of where she lived on the Lower East Side with nine people in three rooms. She had to imagine herself the child of her uncle, who didn’t have an accent or had an accent but at least spoke English.
You describe yours as “an immigrant family torn between loyalty to their own kind and longing for American acceptance.”
There was the feeling that, “If only we could measure up, we would be real Americans.” My mother was a sewing machine operator who became a designer and figured out what American women wore when she came from rags and cardboard shoes, in steerage. So I admire them. As much as I was discomforted by the lies, I ended up having compassion for them.
It’s also a story of thwarted women, and all that lost potential of a generation in which few could contemplate a college degree or a career outside the home. Your mother worked for a time as a junior designer for Hattie Carnegie, a sort of Donna Karan of her day, but abandoned that after she met your dad and became, as you write, “Mrs. Jack Cottin.”
The powerlessness of women was complicated in the 1950s by the demands of the masculine Jewish ideal. So having a wife who didn’t work was proof that you were a man who could provide. As a result women sacrificed their own aspirations and passions. She protected her husband’s image by not pursuing her life outside the home. In a way my feminism is a positive, like a photograph, to the negative of my mother’s 1950s womanhood.
“I’m not an optimist. I call myself a ‘cockeyed strategist,” said Pogrebin, who has a home on the Upper West Side. (Mike Lovett)
You write that you “think of shame and secrecy as quintessentially Jewish issues.” What were the Jewish pressures that inspired your parents to tell so many stories that weren’t true?
Think about what we did. We hid behind our names. We changed our names. We sloughed off our accents. My mother learned to make My*T*Fine pudding instead of gefilte fish. Shame and secrecy have always been intrinsically Jewish to me, because of the “sha!” factor: At every supper party, there would be the moment when somebody would say, “Sha! We don’t talk about that!” So even though we talked about what felt like everything, there were things that couldn’t be touched: illness, the C-word [cancer]. If you wanted to make a shidduch [wedding match] with another family in the insular communities in which Jews lived, you couldn’t let it be known that there was cancer in the family, or mental illness.
While I was writing this memoir, I realized that the [Torah portion] I’m listening to one Shabbat morning is all about hiding. It is Jacob finding out that he didn’t marry Rachel, after all, but married somebody he didn’t love. All of the hiding that I took for granted in the Bible stories and I was raised on like mother’s milk was formative. They justified pretense, and they justified trickery. Rebecca lied to her husband and presented her younger son Jacob for the blessing because God told her, because it was for the greater good of the future the Jewish people.
I think Jews felt that same sort of way when it came to surviving. So we can get rid of our names. We wouldn’t have survived, whether we were hiding in a forest or behind a cabinet, a name or a passport, or [pushed into hiding] with [forced] conversions. Hiding was survival.
I was reading your book just as the E. Jean Carroll verdict came down, holding Donald Trump liable for sexually assaulting her during an encounter in the mid-’90s. You write how in 1962, when you were working as a book publicist, the hard-drinking Irish poet Brendan Behan (who died in 1964) tried to rape you in a hotel room and you didn’t report it. Like Carroll, you didn’t think that it was something that could be reported because the cost was too high.
Certainly in that era powerful men could get away with horrible behavior because of shanda reasons.
Carroll said in her court testimony, “It was shameful to go to the police.”
You know that it happened to so many others and nobody paid the price. The man’s reputation was intact and we kept our jobs because we sacrificed our dignity and our truth. I was in a career, and I really was supporting myself. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I would have been pilloried for having gone to his hotel room, and nobody was there when he picked up an ashtray and threatened to break the window of the Chelsea Hotel unless I went up there with him.The cards were stacked against me.
In “Shanda,” you write about another kind of shame: The shame you now feel decades later about how you described the incident in your first book. You regret “how blithely I transformed an aggravated assault by a powerful man into a ‘sticky sexual encounter.’”
I wrote about the incident in such offhand terms, and wonder why. I wrote, basically, “Okay, girls, you’re gonna have to put up with this, but you’re gonna have to find your own magical sentence like I had with Behan” to get him to stop.
You write that you said, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a nice Jewish girl!” And that got him to back off.
Really painful.
I think that’s a powerful aspect of your book — how you look back at the ways you let down the movement or your family or friends and now regret. In 1991 you wrote a New York Times essay about an illegal abortion you had as a college senior in 1958, but not the second one you had only a few months later. While you were urging women to tell their stories of abortion, you note how a different shame kept you from telling the whole truth.
Jewish girls could be, you know, plain or ordinary, but they had to be smart, and I had been stupid. I could out myself as one of the many millions of women who had an abortion but not as a Jewish girl who made the same mistake [of getting pregnant] twice.
The book was written before the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. In the book you write powerfully about the shame, danger and loneliness among women when abortion was illegal, and now, after 50 years, it is happening again. Having been very much part of the generation of activists that saw Roe become the law of the land, how have you processed its demise?
Since the 1970s, we thought everything was happening in this proper linear way. We got legislation passed, we had litigation and we won, and we saw the percentage of women’s participation in the workplace all across professions and trades and everything else rise and rise. And then Ronald Reagan was elected and then there was the Moral Majority and then it was the Hyde Amendment [barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortion]. I was sideswiped because I think I was naive enough to imagine that once we articulated what feminism was driving at and why women’s rights were important, and how the economic reality of families and discrimination against women weren’t just women’s issues, people would internalize it and understand it and justice would be done.
In the case of Roe, we could not imagine that rights could ever be taken away. We didn’t do something that we should have done, which is to have outed ourselves in a big way. It’s not enough that abortion was legal. We allowed it to remain stigmatized. We allowed the right wing to create their own valence around it. That negated solidarity. If we had talked about abortion as healthcare, if we had had our stories published and created organizations around remembering what it was like and people telling their stories about when abortion was illegal and dangerous…. Instead we allowed the religious right to prioritize [fetal] cells over a woman’s life. We just were not truthful with each other, so we didn’t create solidarity.
Are you heartened by the backlash against restrictive new laws in red states or optimistic that the next wave of activism can reclaim the right to abortion?
I’m not an optimist. I call myself a “cockeyed strategist.” If you look at my long resume, it is all about organizing: Ms. magazine, feminist organizations, women’s foundations, Black-Jewish dialogues, Torah study groups and Palestinian-Jewish dialogues.
Number one, we have to own the data and reframe the narrative. We have to open channels for discussion for women who have either had one or know someone who has had one, even in religious Catholic families. The state-by-state strategy was really slow, but Ruth Bader Ginsburg wanted that. She almost didn’t get on the court because she didn’t like the nationwide, right-to-privacy strategy of Roe but instead wanted it won state by state, which would have required campaigns of acceptance and consciousness-raising.
So, the irony is she hasn’t lived to see that we’re going to have to do it her way.
You share a lot of family secrets in this book. Is this a book that you waited to write until, I’ll try to put this gently, most of the people had died?
I started this book when I was 78 years old, and there’s always a connection to my major birthdays. And turning 80 – you experience that number and it is so weird. It doesn’t describe me and it probably won’t describe you. I thought, this could well be my last book, so I needed to be completely transparent, put it all out there.
My mother and father and aunts and uncles were gone, but I have 24 cousins altogether. I went to my cousins, and told them I am going to write about the secret of your parents: It’s my uncle, but it’s your father. It’s your family story even though it’s my family, but it’s yours first. And every cousin, uniformly, said, “Are you kidding? You don’t even know the half of it,” and they’d tell me the whole story. I guess people want the truth out in the end.
Is that an aspect of getting older?
I think it’s a promise of liberation, which is what I have found. It’s this experience of being free from anything that I’ve hid. I don’t have to hide. Years ago, on our 35th wedding anniversary, we took our whole family to the Tenement Museum because we wanted them to see how far we’ve come in two generations.
—
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California Police Open Hate Crime Probe After Assailants Attack 2 Jews Overheard Speaking Hebrew
Screenshot from video circulated on social media showing three unknown attackers punch two Israeli-Americans in San Jose, California on March 8, 2026.
Police in San Jose, California have opened a hate crime investigation after two Israeli-American Jews were overheard speaking Hebrew and then assaulted in broad daylight on Sunday.
“After arriving at a restaurant, they [the two Jewish men] were approached by three unknown individuals and punched multiple times, leaving one victim briefly unconscious,” according to a statement posted by the Jewish Community Relations Council (JCRC) for the Bay Area. “Both victims were transported to the emergency room and later released.”
JCRC is aware of a disturbing incident at Santana Row in San Jose in which two Israeli Americans were brutally attacked while speaking Hebrew. After arriving at a restaurant, they were approached by three unknown individuals and punched multiple times, leaving one victim briefly… pic.twitter.com/GZ9IkMnxfU
— JCRC Bay Area (@SFJCRC) March 10, 2026
An additional video from @jewishsf shows a closer vantage point of the assault.
According to one of the victims, one of the suspects uttered “f***ing Jew” while repeatedly beating him to the ground. pic.twitter.com/GClqx6lkRi
— JCRC Bay Area (@SFJCRC) March 10, 2026
Lior Zeevi, 47, and Daniel Levy, 48, waited for a table outside the Augustine restaurant on Sunday afternoon when the violence began. They told police that the three attackers used antisemitic language as they punched them.
According to one of the victims and local reports, one of the suspects said “f**king Jew” or “f**k the Jews” during the beating.
“Every punch connected directly to where they wanted, to the head directly. It was on purpose to hit and make maximum damage,” one of the victims told ABC7.
Levy lost consciousness briefly after one punch to the head on Sunday. The beating left him with his lower lip split and bleeding. Both men reportedly had swelling on their heads and faces following the attack.
According to ABC7, a witness also heard one of the assailants say, “Don’t mess with Iran,” apparently a reference to the current war in the Middle East.
Keanu Kahrobaie, a retail employee on Santana Row whose parents were born in Iran, filmed one of the videos and said he heard one of the attackers speak in Farsi while fleeing.
“The only logical thing I could think, other than to stop it, because there was way too many people, was to record it, because it could be used as evidence,” Kahrobaie told J. The Jewish News of Northern California. “They actually kind of carried him, then threw him to the ground, and then just continuously hit.’
San Jose’s Mayor Matt Mahan issued a statement condemning the attack.
“I’ve been in touch with Jewish community leaders and our police department regarding this heinous attack, and I will continue to update you as we make progress in our investigation,” he said.
“The attacks on two people speaking Hebrew in San Jose yesterday are reprehensible,” the mayor continued. “Our Jewish community is shocked and angry, and they have every right to be. In recent years in America, violent acts against Jews have nearly tripled and nearly 70 percent of all hate crimes involving religion target Jews.”
Mahan, who is now running for California governor, added that “this is a time to stand with our Jewish neighbors, support their freedoms, their rights, their full inclusion in American society, and it’s time to root out the hate and the ideologies that drive these kinds of violent acts.”
California Gov. Gavin Newsom’s press office also shared the video on Wednesday and wrote, “This is disgusting. Thank you, San Jose PD, for investigating.”
Marco Sermoneta, consul general of Israel to the Pacific Northwest, commented on the beating on X.
“Two American-Israelis brutally attacked in broad daylight in #SanJose just for speaking Hebrew,” he posted. “I call on California elected officials to condemn this vile, cowardly act and for law enforcement to address this grave incident swiftly and effectively.”
On Wednesday, San Jose police said that detectives at this time “have not located evidence indicating the assault would meet the elements of a hate crime.” However, the attack is currently being investigated as a hate crime as investigators continue to review evidence.
The local Jewish community “is very afraid for our safety following this brutal assault in broad daylight,” Tali Klima, a spokesperson for the Bay Area Jewish Coalition, told the San Francisco Gate. “Given the ongoing surge in antisemitism in recent years, we expect San Jose police and local officials to take this matter seriously and take proper action to address not only this specific incident but the overall climate of Jew hatred.”
The attack in San Jose follow an ongoing pattern of antisemitic acts targeting Jews and Israelis who are overheard speaking in Hebrew.
Last month, French tourists attacked three Israelis speaking Hebrew at a bar in Thailand, resulting in hospitalization for two to treat injuries that included broken ribs, damaged teeth, and back trauma. The bar’s employees reportedly joined in the assault, hitting the Israelis with batons.
In December, Israeli tourist Almog Armoza had to flee in Nepal’s capital Kathmandu when someone hit him from behind with an iron rod after hearing him recording a voice message in Hebrew. That same month, criminals targeted an Israeli tourist in Cyprus after hearing him speaking Hebrew on his cell phone outside a hotel. The victim’s father wrote on Facebook that “he was brutally beaten, injured in the head and face, and evacuated for medical treatment.”
The prior month, police arrested a 25-year-old Pakistani man who allegedly assaulted an Orthodox Jewish American tourist at Milan’s Central Station.
In July, Ran Ben Shimon, the coach of Israel’s national soccer team, spoke Hebrew with assistant coach Gal Cohen while walking in Athens. This prompted an assault from a man who yelled “Free Palestine.” That same day, a waiter in Vienna refused service to a group of well-known Israeli classical musicians after they confirmed to him that the language he overhead them speaking was Hebrew.
Jewish organizations have begun tracking the prevalence of Hebrew conversations triggering antisemitic incidents. Following the release of a report on antisemitism in Ireland earlier this month, Maurice Cohen, chairman of the Jewish Representative Council of Ireland (JRCI), stated that “a recurring feature is hostility triggered solely by Jewish identity or perceived Jewish identity, including visible symbols, the Hebrew language, or accent.”
The researchers looking at Irish incidents found that in 30 percent of cases, the antisemitism only began after some reference to Jewish identity.
Surveys following the Oct. 7, 2023 terrorist attacks against southern Israel show that many Jews have begun concealing their Jewish identities when in public.
In February, the American Jewish Committee (AJC) in partnership with Hillel International released a survey of Jewish college students revealing that 34 percent made an effort to hide their Judaism to avoid experiencing antisemitism and that 38 percent refrained from voicing support for Israel out of fear of target by anti-Zionist activists.
According to AJC research of the broader Jewish public in March 2025, 56 percent say they changed their behavior out of fear of antisemitism and 40 percent said they refrained from wearing or showing items that could identify them as a Jew. The previous year that number was 26 percent.
Much higher numbers of Jews in the United Kingdom report similar sentiments. When the UK’s Campaign Against Antisemitism activist organization polled on the question in November 2023, 69 percent of British Jews said they were less likely to show their Judaism in public. However, by 2025, the Jewish Landscape Report from the Voice of the People initiative reported that number had now risen to 81 percent.
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Hamas Joins Iran in Praising Spain for Hostile Approach to US, Israel
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez speaks at a press conference in Kunshan, Jiangsu province, China, Sept. 11, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Xihao Jiang
The Palestinian terrorist group Hamas has praised Spain for permanently withdrawing its ambassador to Israel on Tuesday, joining Iran in heralding the NATO ally’s hostile posture toward the Jewish state and the US amid ongoing conflict in the Middle East.
“We welcome the decision of the Spanish government to withdraw its ambassador from the ‘Zionist entity’ and to reduce its diplomatic representation. This decision continues the honorable positions taken by the Spanish government against the genocide carried out against our Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip,” the Islamist group behind the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel said in a statement.
“While we greatly appreciate this courageous Spanish position, we reiterate our demand that all countries of the world sever all forms of relations with the ‘Zionist entity,’” the statement continued.
Hamas’s comments came after Spain published an announcement in its official gazette that the ambassador’s position had been terminated. Spain’s Foreign Ministry said its embassy in Tel Aviv will be led by a charge d’affaires for the foreseeable future.
Israel’s embassy in Spain is also run by a charge d’affaires after the country summoned its ambassador last May in protest of Spain’s decision to recognize a Palestinian state, a decision that Jerusalem characterized as a “reward for terrorism.”
Spain’s ambassador to Israel was initially summoned back to Spain in September amid a diplomatic dispute. Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar accused Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez of antisemitism, following Madrid’s latest measures against the Jewish state.
Sánchez unveiled new policies at the time targeting Israel over the war in Gaza, including an arms embargo and a ban on certain Israeli goods.
The Spanish government announced it would bar entry to individuals involved in what it called a “genocide against Palestinians,” block Israel-bound ships and aircraft carrying weapons from Spanish ports and airspace, and enforce an embargo on products from Israeli communities in the West Bank.
Meanwhile, Saar announced sanctions against two Spanish ministers, accusing the government in Madrid of antisemitism and of pursuing an escalating anti-Israel campaign aimed at undermining the Jewish state on the international stage.
For years, Hamas has received funding, weapons, and training from Iran, which last week expressed support for Spain’s decision to block US forces from using its bases for military operations against the Islamic regime. The move left Madrid as the only major EU country to have explicitly criticized the US-Israeli strikes on Iran.
In response to an online news report saying that the Spanish government “denies that the US is using its bases in Spain for the war against Iran,” the Iranian embassy in Spain reshared the headline and added, “Iran fully recognizes and respects this position, which is in accordance with international law.”
While Spain has strongly condemned the US-Israeli attack on Iranian regime targets, other European countries have denounced Iran’s counterstrikes on civilian sites across the Middle East.
US President Donald Trump has lambasted Spain for its stance, even threatening to cut off trade.
“I think they’re not cooperating at all. Spain. I think they’ve been very bad, very bad, not good at all. We may cut off trade with Spain,” Trump told reporters, adding that Madrid has been “very bad to NATO” and does not want to “pay their fair share.”
Spain quickly condemned the strikes against Iran after they began, calling them “dangerous” and “outside of international law.”
Israel accused Spain of “standing with tyrants” for opposing the war.
Since Hamas’s Oct. 7 atrocities started the Gaza war, Spain has been one of Israe’’s fiercest critics on the international stage.
Earlier this month, police raided a steel factory near Bilbao, northern Spain, questioning staff over suspected violations of the country’s arms embargo on Israel
The Action and Communication on the Middle East (ACOM) group, a pro-Israel organization in Spain, described the move as part of a “pattern of political pressure on economic actors for ideological reasons.”
“The combination of state intervention with a political climate that tolerates — and sometimes encourages — aggressive activism against Israel and its partners creates a scenario in which civil liberties and the legal security of companies and citizens are steadily eroded,” ACOM said in a statement.
In September, the Spanish government passed a law to take “urgent measures to stop the genocide in Gaza,” banning trade in defense material and dual-use products from Israel, as well as imports and advertising of products originating from Israeli settlements.
That same month, when Spain recalled its ambassador to Israel, Sánchez accused the Jewish state of “exterminating defenseless people” in Gaza and “breaking all the rules of humanitarian law.”
Sánchez’s administration expanded the boycotted products to ban imports from Israeli communities in the West Bank, eastern Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights.
While pursuing such policies and attacking Israel verbally, Sánchez has facing backlash from his country’s political leaders and Jewish community, who accuse him of fueling antisemitic hostility.
Amid a sharp rise in anti-Jewish hate crimes and anti-Israel sentiment, Lorenzo Rodríguez, mayor of Castrillo Mota de Judíos in northern Spain, accused the country’s leader in September of “fueling a discourse of hatred” against Israel and the Jewish people.
“The government is fostering antisemitism that will prove deeply damaging for Spain,” Rodríguez said in an interview with the local outlet El Español.
Comparing Spain’s attitude toward Israel with other countries, Sa’ar stated earlier this month that “the obsessive activism of the current Spanish government against Israel stands out in light of its ties with dark, tyrannical regimes — from Iran’s ayatollahs to [Nicolás] Maduro’s government in Venezuela.”
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How a Jewish-owned yarn store knitted the symbol of the anti-ICE movement
In January, as violent confrontations between ICE and protesters erupted in the Twin Cities, a knitting group at Needle & Skein yarn shop in St. Louis Park, Minnesota, started brainstorming what they could do to lift people’s spirits. Paul Neary, a designer at the shop with a special love for fiber arts history, quickly found inspiration: a pointed red knit hat with a tassel worn in 1940s Norway to protest the Nazi occupation and boost morale.
“He showed me the picture of the Norwegian resistance hat and I said that is exactly it,” store owner Gilah Mashaal told me.
Although it’s unclear why the red hats became such a popular anti-Nazi tool in Norway, some have noted the link between their design and the Phrygian cap, a symbol of freedom during the French and American revolutions. Neary reverse engineered the Norwegian pattern, creating a more modern beanie-like shape, birthing the “Melt the ICE” hats now seen at anti-ICE protests across the country. Although, as a Guardian article noted, Mashaal had a rule that “nobody talks politics” in the store, she felt stirred to action.
“It kind of transcends politics, in my opinion,” Mashaal said. “When your neighbors are afraid to leave their homes, or they’re afraid to take their sick children to the doctor, or they can’t go to work, something’s wrong with our society.”
The situation feels personal for Mashaal. Her paternal grandparents were from Baghdad and were forced to leave during the 1941 Farhud, a violent attack on Jews similar to the pogroms of Europe. Mashaal’s family settled in Cairo, but that proved to be only a temporary solution.
“When my father was 14 years old, the king was deposed so the military took over and things became very very difficult for the Jews in Cairo,” said Mashaal. Her father escaped to France and eventually immigrated to the United States. “They were forced to leave with absolutely nothing and my father told me the story of my grandmother breaking all the dishes in the house because she didn’t want to just hand it over to the military.”
Mashaal said she’s reminded of the terrible conditions her family had to endure when she sees what is happening in her community.
“This is about human decency,” she said. “This is about caring for your neighbor.”
After Neary came up with the pattern, they planned a knit-along for the following week.
“I thought we were gonna have like, you know, maybe 10 people show up,” Mashaal said. “Then all of a sudden there were more than a hundred people in my store.”
The pattern went viral online when the shop shared Neary’s pattern on Ravelry, a site where knitters and crocheters share patterns, projects and tips. When this article was written, 12,251 users reported they were making or had made the hats and 4,446 had put it in their queue of future projects. The design also inspired a number of customized spin-offs including a version that incorporated “Love is more powerful than hate” in morse code and a mini hat that could be worn as a brooch. Mashaal said that the communal values of the knitting world helped make the hats a success.
“They’re very politically minded,” she said. “And when they see something happening that needs attention, everybody comes together and works towards this common goal.”
When we spoke, Neary couldn’t resist a pun, telling me political activism in the yarn community is “literally knit into the fabric of our history.” Knitters in Belgium encoded messages about military activity in their stitches during World War I. Knitting circles have served as a place where women, who were discouraged from being political in public, could exchange ideas about issues such as slavery and women’s suffrage.
“When you see things happening and you feel helpless, you try to find some way to connect to other people who are also feeling helpless,” Mashaal said. “To create something with your hands is soothing, in a way, and very meaningful.”
Profits from the hats are donated to immigrant aid groups in Minnesota, such as the Immigrant Rapid Relief Fund. Mashaal said they have also received donations from around the world and have raised $760,000 thus far.
Not everyone is happy with Needle & Skein’s new hats. Both Mashaal and Neary told me they’ve received hateful emails, phone calls and letters from people who disagree with their message. But Mashaal said “the positivity far outweighs the negativity that we’ve gotten.”
Neary noted that they have received supportive calls from people who may not necessarily have been as politically engaged before.
“They’ll say something like, you know, ‘Usually I don’t get involved in stuff like this, but this really moved me,’” Neary said. “It’s their kind of gentle way of letting us know, like, ‘We maybe didn’t vote the same way, but obviously we’re on the same team.’”
Mashaal and Neary noted how the knitting community’s diversity connects people across racial, ethnic, gender and generational boundaries.
“It truly does give us all kind of a space to have together to learn more about different people and share comfortably,” Neary said.
“We just all have this one passion. And so we find that one literal common thread.”
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