Jessica Stein
On the night of January 7, in the back section of Fremont's Red Door pub, about 30 women crowded in and set to work crafting pussy hats—pink beanies with pointed cat ears that are intended to be worn by protesters at the upcoming Women's March in Washington, DC.

The march is set for January 21, Donald Trump's first day in office. The plan is for women—as well as transgender, gender-nonconforming, and feminist people—to flood the National Mall in a unified display of opposition to Trump's misogyny and normalization of rape culture.

The Red Door crafting party to support DC-bound marchers was hosted by Anna Curtiss and Bethany Bevier, cofounders of the Backstage Knitting podcast.

"With the Pussyhat Project, I can [channel] my own anger," said Bevier. "I'm physically knitting or sewing or crocheting out my upset about the [election] results in November."

Her work is connected to a national effort launched last Thanksgiving in response to Trump's now-infamous leaked interview from 2005, in which he said that when it comes to women, he likes to "grab them by the pussy." If all goes according to plan, many of the demonstrators at the DC Women's March will be wearing pink pussy hats handmade by crafters across the country as part of the Pussyhat Project.

For Bevier and Curtiss, this wasn't about just saying "solidarity" and acting like that's enough. For these women, knitting, crocheting, and sewing are a valuable means of actively participating in this larger womxn's rights movement with their community.

While the Seattle Seahawks football game against the Detroit Lions boomed overhead, women of all ages and abilities—mothers, sisters, students, teachers, engineers, performers, and, yes, a few men—sat around tables, knitting needles clinking softly as they slowly stitched the brims of their pussy hats. As they watched the game and knitted, participants also taught perplexed newbie knitters the basics of the craft while simultaneously griping about Republican Speaker Paul Ryan's commitment to defunding Planned Parenthood.

Paula, who sat at my table and was one of the few womxn of color at the event, put it this way: The Pussyhat Project was an act of self-care that gave her an outlet for her frustration and anxiety. For her, catharsis manifested in her five finished pussy hats that would be sent across the country.

Although she won't be joining her hats in Washington, DC, Paula plans to take to the streets with her own pussy hat for the Seattle Womxn's March, a local branch of the DC protest. The march, which will also be held on January 21, begins at 10 a.m. with a rally in downtown Seattle (location still to be determined) and will end at Seattle Center.

Curtiss said she recognizes that this is just the start of the work that needs to be done to protect womxn's rights. She knows that knitting a pussy hat doesn't let anyone off the hook. People still need to call and write their local and congressional representatives, and they still need to give women's advocacy groups and reproductive health centers dollars and time. But a lovingly created pussy hat as a symbol of resistance is a start.

"There are women all over who have woken up," said Bevier. "[Feminist movements have] done a lot, but we're not there yet. It's scary, but there's something comforting about sisterhood." recommended

To find out more about the Pussyhat Project and how to make your own hat, visit pussyhatproject.com.