In the one week following Donald Trump’s victory in the US presidential election, there has been an uptick in racist incidents and hate-crimes across the country. Like a silver lining out of a very grey cloud, the ‘safety pin movement’ has emerged in the US. It was first started across a pond in the UK for the same reasons following Brexit.
Many Americans are wearing a single safety pin on their clothing as a symbol of solidarity with people of colour, people from racial and religious minorities, the LGBTQIA and anyone who could be a target of violence. According to Allison, the woman who started the movement in London, she used the safety pin because it costs nothing and has no political affiliation. The safety pin that comes to the rescue in times of sartorial crisis has quickly joined that notion to represent safety, a safe place and ally ship.
Indians too, like people from other countries, took to social media with their disappointment of the US president elect. Among hundreds of posts that I scrolled past, one made me stop and think: “I tell myself, calm down now, this ain’t your country. And then I think about mine”. Another screamed: “The heads of the USA and India, might be from vastly different backgrounds, but they are political twins”.
And I confess I haven’t been able to get these out of my head. Here too, there has been a rise in targeted attacks on religious and ethnic minorities, immigrants, and queer people in the last two years. Not to mention the clamp down on progressive organisations, on intellectuals and thinkers, on art and expression, and the decreasing space for dissent.
In October, the Ministry of Home Affairs denied the FCRA registration renewal of the Centre for Promotion of Social Concerns. DU professor Nalini Sundar among 17 others was accused of the murder of a tribal man in Chhattisgarh. Transgender Tara died in Chennai under suspicious circumstances. And I wonder now, if like all other things we like to copy from the western world, whether we should circulate a list of pro-women, pro-queer, pro-immigrant, pro-earth, anti-bigotry organisations and individuals that need our collective support.
With citizens who have grown up watching mothers and matrons always prepared for emergencies with a stock pile of safety pins, for young women whose weapon against creepy men on overcrowded buses was safety pins before they were old enough to carry compasses, this is a country pinning for the safety pin movement.
The movement’s silent communication of solidarity is what we need now more than ever. The time is now ripe for India’s safety pin movement, for us to be there for ourselves, and for each other. Though the safety pin promises support, solidarity and safety, it also represents privilege and power. So if we wear safety pins on our sleeves (and I insist we do), lets ensure we go beyond the wearing, to act against attack and raise our voices against violence.
Opening our hearts to differences and hands to unlimited hugs is a bonus.
The safety pin can become a symbol of safety, an allegiance to ally ship, but only with action will be it a gateway to a safer world.
(The writer is a Chennai-based activist, in-your-face feminist and a media glutton)