By Lisa-Anne Bauch

On January 1, 2026, Needle & Skein, a cozy yarn shop in suburban Minneapolis, Minnesota sent a cheerful New Year’s greeting to their followers on Instagram: “Here’s to another year of inspiration, creativity, and community together. Welcome 2026!” The post garnered a few polite “likes.”

A week later, everything changed when Renee Nicole Good was shot and killed by ICE agents deployed by the Trump Administration, sparking vigils and protests. Her execution by ICE was followed by that of Alex Pretti on January 24. 

Minnesota has a long and proud history of civic engagement and creative activism. Since December, when “Operation Metro Surge” began, Twin Cities residents had found ways to support their immigrant neighbors in hiding as well as those in detention. Now, their efforts redoubled. The staff at Needle & Skein rose to the challenge when knitting designer Paul Neary premiered the “Melt the Ice” hat.

The shop’s Instagram post on January 15 read, “In the 1940s, Norwegians made and wore red pointed hats with a tassel as a form of visual protest against Nazi occupation of their country. Within two years, the Nazis made these protest hats illegal and punishable by law to wear, make or distribute. As purveyors of traditional craft, we felt it appropriate to revisit this design.”

The post included an invitation to a “resistance knit in” where the red hat pattern would be sold, with proceeds donated to community organizations.

“This event isn’t meant to replace direct action or policy work,” shop owner Gilah Mashaal clarified. “It’s a way to gather the community, raise funds that will be redistributed locally, and connect our community to organizations doing on-the-ground support. We believe mutual aid, visibility, and community building all matter, and this is one way we can contribute as a small local shop.”

Immediately, the shop was inundated with requests for the red hat pattern, which appeared the next day on Ravelry, a popular knitting platform, for a five-dollar fee. It was quickly followed by a crochet version. 

Word spread like wildfire through the knitting community, both in person and online, while local TV stations provided coverage of the efforts. New knitting groups formed all over the world to knit and wear the red hats. As shortages of red yarn were reported, knitters improvised, knitting or wet-felting smaller hats as lapel pins, creating sewn versions, and even dyeing their own yarn. Artists drew illustrations of loons—Minnesota’s state bird—knitting and wearing the red cap.

By February 15, Needle & Skein posted that knitters from over 53 countries had donated funds and/or downloaded the original patterns. By March 15, $850,000 had been raised for more than 25 organizations, with no signs of stopping. 

What is the history of the red resistance hat in Norway? And why did a pattern based on it strike such a chord in 2026?

From Nisse to Jössings: The History of the Red Hat

On February 26, Susan Kolstad and Kristin Propson presented “Red Hats as a Symbol of Resistance in WWII Norway” as part of Vesterheim Norwegian-American Museum’s ongoing “Folk Art Online Presentations.” 

According to their webinar, the red hat has deep roots. The red “Phrygian Cap” was adopted during the French and American Revolutions as a symbol of liberty. (The hat recently made a comeback during the Paris Olympics in 2024 when it appeared as the plushie mascot of the Summer Games.) At the same time, Norway was struggling for its own independence from Danish and Swedish rule, which it achieved on May 17, 1905. In the century leading up to independence, traditional craft skills and cultural symbols were promoted in order to define and celebrate a unique national identity, or “Norwegian-ness.”

The nisse is one such symbol. In Norwegian folktales, this little bearded creature—the ancestor of today’s garden gnomes—lived on farms, hidden in the hay loft. He came out secretly at night, providing help or hindrance to the farm family depending on how well he was treated. At Christmas, a bowl of porridge was left out to appease him. Wearing a cheerful knitted red stocking cap, the nisse became a symbol of Christmas in Norway, frequently appearing in greeting cards and periodicals.

In 1940, everything changed. On April 9, the Nazis invaded and occupied Norway, installing a puppet government under collaborator Vidkun Quisling. 

Symbols of Norwegian cultural identity took on added urgency, raising morale and building solidarity. Ordinary Norwegians knitted and wore red hats to show their opposition to the occupation as well as support for the Jössings, those doing the heroic and dangerous work of organized resistance. A writer who was a child during the occupation shared her wartime memories:

We would always find ways to annoy the Germans and the Nazis…We would all wear red knitted hats which meant we were “Jossings” or against the Germans. And on the king’s birthday we wore a red rose on our clothes. Everyone knew what it meant, but they could not arrest everyone.

On February 26, 1942, the red hats were banned. A photo from the Hjemmefrontmuseet (The Norwegian Resistance Museum) shows an announcement from a Trondheim newspaper declaring the wearing of red hats punishable by law. If the person wearing the hat was under 14 years of age, their parents would be punished. 

Still, the Norwegians knitted on. Artifacts from this period include little Norwegian flags and tiny knitted red caps that could be secretly sewn into clothing. Organized resistance continued until Norway was liberated on VE Day, May 8, 1945.

Threads of History: The Red Hats Today

In a televised interview about the red hat pattern, Gilah Mashaal, noted that the project clearly “hit a nerve” with knitters the world over. What are the threads of this worldwide story and how are they knit together, 84 years after the original red hat ban?

In the case of Minneapolis, the historical parallels with World War II Norway are clear: An armed and hostile occupying force, driven by fascist ideology, wielding indiscriminate violence against a civilian population. Mashaal said that in the face of “Operation Metro Surge,” she and other metro residents had been feeling despair and helplessness. The red hat project gave them an immediate, concrete, and practical method of helping those who were being targeted. The money raised is donated to food shelves, legal funds, and other community-based immigrant aid organizations. 

Making and wearing the red hats also reminds knitters of the courage and integrity shown by the Norwegians in World War II, qualities they hope to emulate. Many Minnesotans are descended from Norwegian immigrants, and for them, knitting the red hats is an expression of pride in their heritage. As Needle & Skein employee Bethany Penna said, “It’s a beautiful tribute to our Norwegian ancestors.” Many have shared stories of family members who endured the occupation and participated in resistance efforts. 

Knitters also see the red hats as a way to engage in peaceful protest, to express opposition to ICE, and to show solidarity with their neighbors, while the physical act of knitting gives knitters something to do to ease their anxiety and agitation. As one knitter baldly stated, “We knit to keep from unraveling.” Ravelry designer Mary Heather concurred, writing, “Of course, we’re knitting and crocheting…otherwise we’d probably combust.” Mary Heather noted that knitting and crochet are only one of many efforts that include contacting government representatives, contributing to mutual aid organizations, and protesting. In addition, “Using our crafting time to make projects in protest and connection with other crafters around the world helps us remember we’re not alone.” 

Another thread in this story is the color red, long associated with protest movements and power struggles. Red hat knitters have spoken about taking the color back from MAGA movement they feel have co-opted it. Others noted resonance with other causes such as the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women movement (MMIW), which uses powerful images of red dresses and red hands to draw attention to the high rates of murders of Native women and girls. In this vein, Mary Heather wrote: 

In uncertain and scary times, our handmade creations can provide powerful warmth and connection. This post is a celebration of that warmth, as seen through recently completed projects Ravelers have made using rich reds, oranges, and yellows. These cozy and warm colors can carry meaning, too… after all, warmth melts ice. Knitting and crocheting can be deeply personal forms of self-care, and in overwhelming times, that care becomes its own kind of resistance. Choosing to make something beautiful and warm when the world feels cold is a powerful act.

These deep levels of meaning are common to creative activism. “Crafters have been at the heart of many protest movements,” Mashaal wrote in her initial Instagram post. The red hat project is only one of many artistic responses to the occupation, from music to street art, T-shirts to tattoos, a surge of creativity and community-building in the face of injustice. In the end, how we spend our time and the things we create express the values we believe in and the type of world we want to build. In the end, what we create, creates us.

Note: Despite official statements of a drawdown, the total number of ICE agents remaining in Minnesota is unclear, with ongoing reports of continued ICE activity throughout the state. Further, “The total number of arrests during Operation Metro Surge cannot be independently verified based on information released by the administration.” Many of those disappeared by ICE remain in detention under horrific conditions. For others, even their whereabouts remain unknown. 

We knit on.

Lisa-Anne Bauch is a Minnesota-based folk artist whose work is rooted in the traditional weaving techniques and materials of Sweden, Norway, and Finland, as well as their respective immigrant communities. Her writing has appeared in PieceWork, Norwegian Textile Letter, Väv, and Shuttle Spindle & Dyepot.