It feels important to state from the outset: I don’t knit. But like many actual knitters, at some point in my childhood my mum taught me how. I still remember the soft click of the grey plastic needles and the satisfaction of a row of neat loops of magenta wool (a shade I would have only chosen between the ages of five and 10).
With knitting, the legacy of women sharing a skill that can nurture, warm and soothe feels powerful in a low-key feminist way – even when that knowledge is forgotten, then rediscovered later via friends, online tutorials or social media.
