Few things get me as fired up as hearing someone say “it’s just clothes.” It’s wrong, it’s reductive, it’s rooted in privilege and ignorance. I’m not exaggerating when I say it is truly never just a shirt, just a dress, just fashion. Clothing doesn’t come from thin air, styles don’t catch on for no reason, and the people and businesses behind the scenes influence every part of the world around us. It also isn’t a coincidence that the fashion industry operates on the backs of women, primarily women of color in the global south. The concept of clothing being long tied to feminine culture and industry guarantees that accusations of frivolity and “unskilled” labor are never far behind. But gender issues aren’t the only element at play here. In fact, every single cause a person could possibly be interested in is actually linked to clothing and the garment industry - environmental issues, child exploitation, LGBTQIA+ rights, cultural preservation, animal rights, the list goes on. Pick a cause and it’s connected, I promise.
From a single silkworm to the glossy pages of a magazine, fashion is deeply political. It always has been, and it always will be. There is no possible way to disconnect the fabric we wear on our bodies to all of the reasons and means in which they have ended up there. Even the most uninteresting sock from the blandest big box store is sitting in your drawer for a thousand specific reasons.
At its worst, fashion is harmful in a scope that can be hard to truly grasp. Fashion can be exploitative, fashion can be exclusionary, fashion can have consequences as dire as arrest, illness, even death. At its best, fashion is of the truest, greatest means we have of representing ourselves and our collective cultures. Fashion can transform society, fashion can be inclusionary, fashion can have effects as powerful as inspiration, influence, and literally sustaining life.
I recently met with a Palestinian friend, and she arrived at the bar wearing her grandfather’s keffiyeh. She had been putting it on every morning for weeks now, and would be doing so until a ceasefire was announced. As I hit publish, her family village in Palestine is being bulldozed. All the while, she spoke tenderly of her memories of her grandfather, his stories, of his other keffiyeh she had but didn’t wear as often because it was delicate. She described its softness, its stitching, how she has to wash it carefully. She quite literally carries the beauty and gentleness of her homeland.
She then told me that asking Google “what do terrorists wear?” would bring you to images of the keffiyeh. She was, of course, right. The very first link under images for that search is for the Wikipedia page for the Palestinian keffiyeh. Scrolling down the page is a walk through of Western Islamophobia, linking you to more Middle Eastern garb. Hijab, Burqas, and Dastar all appear before the very first Klansman hood. Not a single image depicted the t-shirts or trench coats of the white shooters that terrorize us almost daily here in America. The digital footprint of Imperialist propaganda and Western warmongering is blatantly clear. Villainizing garments with deeply rooted cultural significance are just one of many ways to dehumanize and misrepresent the oppressed and marginalized.
Today’s letter is a look into just a few examples of clothing as symbolism, resistance, and resilience. Our strongest means of fighting misinformation is arming ourselves with history and truth. None of us are free until we are all free.
Palestinian Keffiyeh (or Kufiya)
The keffiyeh is a black and white scarf that has become a symbol of Palestinian sovereignty, typically worn around the neck or head. The scarf’s patterns represent Palestinian resilience and the people’s connection to the land and the sea.
The garment was traditionally worn by Palestinian farmers, a signifier during the Ottoman period that differentiated the rural class from urban Palestinians, who wore tarboosh. The keffiyeh first became a symbol of resistance during the Arab revolt of the 1930’s, reaching its peak in 1938 when revolt leadership ordered the urban classes to replace their hats with keffiyeh as a display of unity. The keffiyeh has since continued to be used as a beacon of Palestinian strength and self-determination. The intentional use of the garment by non-Palestinian people is seen as an act of solidarity, though both the garment and the pattern has been frequently appropriated and misused by non-Palestinian fashion brands.
Today, a large majority of keffiyeh sold throughout the world are exported from China. Due to severe restrictions in Palestine and overall changes to the global garment trade, Yasser Hirbawi has been the only Palestinian manufacturer of keffiyeh for over 50 years. The Hirbawi Textile Factory in Hebron now only has four of the original 15 weaving machines in operation. Hirbawi and his family have been keeping the last remaining Palestinian keffiyeh factory open through international media attention, global online customers, and other sales initiatives.
While Hirbawi is currently struggling to consistently fulfill shipments due to the blockade, our opportunities to support Palestinian culture are more dire now than ever. They are currently accepting pre-orders here, and are donating profits from every piece sold to the Palestine American Medical Association. For real time updates from Hirbawi, please follow them on Instagram.
Congolese Sapeurs
La Sape, ‘Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes’ (Society of Ambiance-Makers and Elegant People), is a Congolese group following a rich, vibrant fashion culture. Male Sapeurs and female Sapeuses dedicate themselves to creating bold fashion statements through designer apparel, centered around luxury suiting. The movement has roots in 1920’s colonialism, emerging in the form we see today after independence in the Congo in 1960. What started as a means of social mobility through apparel has transformed into its own powerful subculture. Though most of the Sapeur’s garments are designed and made in Europe, the way they are worn is a reclamation entirely divorced from the white, colonial roots of the clothing itself.
La Sape goes far beyond just a way of dress, providing an essential role in community building and exchange between those who participate. There are Sapeur clubs and bars, clothing is often traded or borrowed, and there are distinct differences between the Sapeur culture in cities like Kinshasa and Brazzaville. The community continues to expand, with women Sapeuses now making up around 15% of those participating. The practice is passed down in families, and Congolese children are learning and expanding upon the Sape tradition in ways both old and new.
Since its very beginning, Congolese men traded in certain necessities to achieve the Sapeur look, sacrificing their limited funds to invest in luxury apparel. Sapeurs invest only in genuine designer goods - suits can cost thousands of dollars, and most Sapeurs are day laborers making very little. To those on the outside, this sort of practice could seem foolish or wasteful. But to those that understand, it's anything but. La Sape is a lifestyle, a skillful practice of resistance, resilience, and joy through self expression.
Photographer Tariq Zaidi, whose images I included above, published a photo book entitled Sapeurs: Ladies and Gentlemen of the Congo. You can learn more via this piece for Vogue Scandinavia, and purchase his book here.
Sudanese Toub (or Thoub)
The Toub (also Thobe or Thoub) is a cotton robe traditionally worn by working Sudanese women. The garment has become a symbol for the women of Sudan and the power in their demonstrations against the current military dictatorship. In 2019, a now famous image was captured on the fourth consecutive night of protest outside the military headquarters of Sudan’s capital. Then 22-year-old Alaa Salah was photographed by Lana Haroun standing atop a vehicle in a white Toub and large gold earrings, pointing to the sky in an impassioned call for revolution.
In this article for the Washington Post, Sudanese women’s rights activist Hala Al-Karib spoke about the impact and history of Salah’s outfit.
Her thobe, a cotton robe, is traditionally worn by professional Sudanese women in the workforce. Al-Karib said, “It’s a symbol of an identity of a working woman — a Sudanese woman that’s capable of doing anything but still appreciates her culture.”
Her large, circular gold earring is called a fedaya, Al-Karib said. “Those are the traditional earrings that my grandmother has, that all Sudanese women have,” she said. “And they pass them to their daughters.”
Berets of the American Black Panther Party
Throughout most of the American Civil Rights movement, participants wore their “Sunday best” as an outward demand for respect and dignity. The Black Panther Party took an alternative approach, strategically building a now iconic uniform that challenged the blatantly unbalanced standards of white society. Members of the Black Panther Party rejected respectability politics, instead creating a look that reflected their beliefs in self determination and Black power.
A key element to the Black Panther uniform was the beret, often worn atop an afro. Party leaders Bobby Seale and Huey P. Newton were inspired by French Resistance Fighters in WWII, adopting and evolving the existing symbol of militant revolution. The beret is an excellent example of cultural exchange and sustained power in garment symbolism. The hat has appeared in resistance movements throughout the world, but has been styled and worn in distinct ways by each group. The Black Panther Party most often paired their berets with black leather jackets. Both their hats and their jackets were frequently decorated with patches and buttons that broadcasted their beliefs.
For more on fashion in resistance and revolution…
Read This
A Lesson on the Powerful Symbolism Found in Palestinian Art by Lydia Medeiros via Savoir Flair, an article accompanied by the art of Palestinian painter Sliman Mansour. This piece details the history of key pieces of iconography depicted in Palestinian art, including fashion.
The Clothes that Shook the World by Cath Pound via the BBC offers more examples of fashion’s pivotal role in cultural evolution, from the Suffragettes to modern day.
Fashioning Indigenous Identity and Resistance by Isabelle Sain via Threading Change. An excellent piece highlighting contemporary indigenous artists & designers and their work, highlighting their sovereignty on Turtle Island (North America).
Liberated Threads: Black Women, Style, and the Global Politics of Soul by Tanisha C. Ford. I’ve recommended this book already, but I’m repeating it again in case you missed it!
Dressing the Resistance: The Visual Language of Protest Through History by Camille Benda. This article via Bust offers a sample of just some of the various examples detailed by Benda in her book, here.
Manifesto of Fashion as Resistance by Carla Fernandez, a large format art book showcasing Mexican artisans and their crafting techniques.
Watch This
The Keffiyeh/Shemagh: The Origins and History of the Famous Headpiece by Uniform History. This 23 minute video offers a thorough explanation of the origins and uses of the various versions of this scarf throughout different Middle Eastern cultures.
Kenyan Women March Through Nairobi to Protest Attacks Against Women via France24. This news clip highlights a 2015 protest in Kenya for women’s safety. Protestors wore short skirts and waved banners decorated with women’s underwear, fighting for their right to safety in self expression.
Turkish Men Don Miniskirts to Denounce Violence Against Women via Euronews. A group of protesters gathered in Istanbul to demand more government protection for women. The demonstration was prompted by the death of a 20-year-old student who was killed for attempting to fight off a sexual assault.
Brazil's First Indigenous Fashion Event, 2022. A short video about a recent showcase of 29 indigenous designers and an interview with the event organizer Reby Ferreira.
Listen to This
Paisley, an episode of Articles of Interest by Avery Trufelman. This podcast episode breaks down how the history of colonization, cultural exchange, and garment export brought this ubiquitous print from India to Scotland to every concert stage in 1960’s America.
Navajo Weaving: Art, History, and Practice with Lynda Teller Pete and Barbara Teller Ornelas, an episode of Dressed by April Calahan and Cassidy Zachary. This is a two-part podcast series with two fifth generation Diné weavers and educators.
Thank you for reading.
Free Palestine.