Knitting with Purpose

Craftivism in Knitting

In recent years, the fiber arts have been increasing in both popularity and visibility. The term “craftivism” was first used in 2003 by Betsy Greer and means to use one’s creativity and crafting talents for the greater good. In the most general of terms, it means to knit for a cause, which for some means knitting for charity while for others it is a quiet platform where they can use needles and fiber to proudly display their beliefs by creating words, phrases, or symbols. Since the creation of fiber art is a slow process, many makers use their crafting time to explore personal growth through thoughtful reflection while quietly and purposefully voicing an important cause, one stitch at a time.

Still, others take a more publicly visible approach such as Danish artist Marianne Jorgenson who, with help from other Denmark knitters, covered a World War II tank completely in pink knitted and crocheted fabric to protest the US, British, and Danish involvement in the Iraq war. The many pieces connected together acted as a sort of petition with each square representing one crafter.

Knitters for centuries have been using stitches to further their causes long before the advent of the term “craftivism” and long before the first yarn bombings (covering something in knitting from parking meters and tree trunks to statues and memorials) took place.

 

 “Quiet strength need not be mistaken for useless vulnerability.”

                                                                                                                    – Artist Kate Walker

American War of Independence (1775 – 1783)

During the American Revolutionary War, Molly Rinker’s house in Philadelphia was commandeered to quarter British troops. While the household’s men were forbidden from entering the dining room, Molly was tasked with serving the unwelcome house guests. She would intently eavesdrop on their conversations and write important information such as troop movements and battle plans on a small piece of paper. Molly then wrapped the note around a small stone and covered the stone with yarn, wrapping it around and around until it looked like an ordinary ball of yarn. Later, she would sit and appear to be innocently knitting on a rocky outcrop where she would “accidentally” drop her yarn off the rock and into the woods below. When one of George Washington’s men next rode by, he would pick up the yarn and bring the British military secrets back to the Continental Army’s camp.

 

Practical Knitting During World Wars

During the early twentieth century, knitting became synonymous with supporting the war efforts of both World War I and World War II. Along with Victory Gardens and scrap metal drives, knitting warm clothing for the soldiers fighting overseas was a way to lift morale on the home front while contributing to the war effort. Resources were scarce around the world; countless supply trains, warehouses, and factories were destroyed leaving soldiers to rely on donations for precious basic necessities like socks and hats. Pleas were made in newspapers, magazines, and on posters asking for socks, sweaters, hats, helmet liners, fingerless gloves, etc. Early in WWII, Clementine Churchill appealed to Eleanor Roosevelt who then organized Bundles for Britain, encouraging knitters to send bundles of knitwear to British soldiers. The First Lady became known as the “knitter-in-chief,” carrying her large knitting bag everywhere as she did her part in churning out warm woolen knits. The Red Cross distributed patterns as well as olive drab and navy blue wool yarn to knitters; wool shortages led to strict monitoring of the yarn, and finished garments were sent overseas. Cotton yarn and garter stitch were used to knit long strips of gauze which were then sterilized and sent to medical units.

 

Knitting as Espionage

While hundreds of thousands of knitters were tasked with practical knitting, dozens of brave women used their knitting to discreetly smuggle military intelligence and secrets. If caught, these courageous women faced imprisonment or execution. 

 

WWI (1914 – 1918)

During WWI, women were encouraged to knit socks and hats for soldiers as a way to help the war effort. The sight of a woman knitting in public was so common that it could easily be used as a cover allowing hours of observation without raising suspicion. Madame Levengle, a Frenchwoman, would sit in her upstairs window overlooking a busy intersection while knitting for hours. As German troops passed by her house, she would tap her feet on the floor. Her children were in the room below deciphering the tapped codes into written messages while giving the appearance of doing schoolwork, fooling even the German Marshall stationed in their house.

WWII (1939 – 1945)

By the start of the second world war, knitting was already established as a way for those at home to support the war effort by keeping soldiers warm and dry. Seeing knitters everywhere was commonplace throughout Europe, and knitters could easily congregate, observe, and listen without raising suspicion. During WWII, both the United States and the UK banned the printing and posting of written knitting patterns as their repetitive abbreviations could easily be ciphered into codes, but they could hardly ban the act of knitting itself.

Infamous American spy Elizabeth Bentley ran two spy rings and used her innocuous knitting bag to sneak sensitive military information from the United States to Soviet officials from 1938 until 1945 when she defected from the Communist Party by reporting herself and her spy network to the FBI.

 

Knitting as Coded Messages

Not only was knitting frequently used as a cover “disguising” the spy as an ordinary knitter, it was also an effective way to send secret information. Throughout recorded history, people have used ordinary objects and activities to communicate secret information.

 

A Little Ancient History

Steganography (Greek root: steganos, meaning to cover or secret) is the act of working a code into an otherwise ordinary item. The first example of this in history dates back to around 440 B.C. in ancient Greece. A slave’s head would be shaved, a message tattooed on his scalp, and once his hair grew back, he would be sent on an “innocent” errand to the recipient. There, the slave would once again have his hair shaved, endure a tattooed reply, and then wait for his hair to grow before returning home. And repeat.

 

Encrypting Knitwear

Over two thousand years later during the second world war, when knitters used their projects to convey a secret code, they used a form of steganography. Knitting is made up of different stitches, the most common of which are the knit and purl; at its simplest, it is relatable to binary code. Knit stitches are flat and resemble the letter “v”, while purl stitches are horizontal bumps. 

Alternating these two stitches to create Morse code, the knitter could send encrypted messages through an innocent-looking sweater or scarf. Non-knitters, as many soldiers tended to be (though wounded soldiers were taught to knit as a way to continue their contribution to the war while recovering and later to relieve stress while convalescing), would not likely notice anything unusual about a piece of knitting. Knit and purl stitches are regularly used together in patterns to create a variety of common textures (for example, the ribbing on the hems and cuffs of a sweater), and the odd purl bump hidden in a pattern of knit stitches could easily be overlooked or, if noticed, assumed to part of the intended patterning. Even when more noticeable stitches were used to encode a message into the garment, it would appear to the uneducated eye to be simply a mistake. Experienced knitters on the receiving end of the garment could spot any variation in stitches right away, especially when knowing to look for them.

Belgian Resistance fighters recruited knitters whose windows overlooked railway yards. Using purl stitches and dropped stitches or yarnovers on a background of plain stockinette, the women would relay the German train movements. Each type of stitch would denote a different type of train; purl one for an artillery train, drop one for a troop train, etc. The most dangerous part was handing off the innocent-looking hat or scarf to an Allied soldier, but once the transfer was made, the warm garment would appear to blend in with the thousands of knitted gifts regularly sent to soldiers from their families on both sides of the war.

One notable heroine and the most famous example of espionage through knitting is that of Phyllis Latour Doyle. At 21 years old, she joined the British Royal Air Force as a mechanic and was quickly recruited by the Special Operations Executive (a British secret service organization created during WWII for the purposes of espionage, sabotage, and reconnaissance). Fluent in French, Phyllis parachuted behind enemy lines into Normandy where she lived and worked under the guise of relocating to the region to avoid Allied bombings. She would bicycle through the countryside selling soap and casually talking with German soldiers. Any military intelligence she gathered was carefully knit into encrypted Morse code using one-time codes carefully written on a strip of silk. The silk was wrapped around a circular knitting needle and kept in her knitting bag or in especially dangerous situations it was hidden inside a shoelace that she used to tie up her hair. At one time, she was strip-searched by a female German officer; when the officer eyed her hair, Phyllis took out the tie and shook her head to show that nothing was hidden in her bun. The innocent-looking shoelace was ignored, and Phyllis was released.

 

Knitting as Craftivism Today

While espionage and encryption have become more sophisticated in the digital age, knitters are still using craftivism to support causes with their needles and yarn. Whether it’s in the form of thousands of marchers wearing pink “pussy” hats descending on Washington, knitting helmet liners for troops deployed overseas, or knitting mittens to hang on your organization’s giving tree, many knitters today are inspired and uplifted by stitching for a greater purpose.

Pick up your needles and find your knitting purpose.

Melissa Kemmerer

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