Wool ethics and heavy metal – how one knitter is busting a stereotype

I had the usual experience of learning to knit a scarf when I was about ten - on a whim, with my best friend's mum teaching us. In hindsight, it's not surprising it got abandoned for twenty years, as it's the most boring item a beginner could make!

Then four years ago, living in Putāruru and five months pregnant with our third baby (after losing our second baby, Cordelia, late in the pregnancy), I was in need of something to take my mind off the traumatic milestone approaching. Walking past a community noticeboard, I noticed a flyer for a weekly knitting group.

I found the group on Facebook and asked if anyone could teach me to knit. After showing up to find a welcoming group of older women in a local café/bar, the club president set me up with needles, a ball of wool, and a basic project bag to put everything in. It didn't take long to find my fingers, and within two months I had knitted some gift shawls. By the time my baby boy, Desmond, was two months old, I had completed some booties and a vest for him.

I've always been craft-minded, and I still dabble in a bunch of things. But knitting stuck for me because of how transportable it is around family life. I can put it down to help the kids (Desmond, 3, and Evelyn, 7) or my husband, Michael, when they need it, then pick it back up again, even if it's for just a few stitches at a time. I can knit while we home-school, or while hanging out with Michael while he paints his Warhammer miniatures.

I also take knitting in the car so that if I have to wait anywhere, or if my husband drives, I can steal a few stitches. I started filming little Instagram stories, called #carknitsandmetal, which showcase my love of heavy metal - Rob Zombie, Black Sabbath and Amon Amarth always make the list! - and a bit of casual knitting, and show how wrong the "stereotypical knitter" trope really is.

I can no longer attend in-person groups since moving rural [to Lichfield], which can be quite isolating, but thanks to social media I'm part of a few online groups. I treasure that, and I now have an excellent weekly Zoom knit night with some of my closest friends. We talk about everything - from our knitting, to our lives, to current world happenings, to subjects dear to our hearts like racism/white privilege, fatphobia, LGBTQIA+ rights. I've learned so much from these generous people. We meet up whenever possible, usually at a local yarn festival somewhere in the country. I was fortunate to have had a weekend in Christchurch recently for WoolFeast, where we got to hug, chat and discuss projects in person.

I like to support New Zealand companies - we have beautiful wool available to us here, and clever dyers  -  and I like to buy from people who have similar ethics to me. Knitting is political, and I like to keep an eye on where I put my money. I like to know the animals involved are treated humanely, and I want to buy from companies who can move with the times - New Zealand's casual racism and bigotry is very apparent in the knitting community. It can be an unwelcoming place for some, and when minority groups feel unsafe in a space, you learn to look at why that might be. Knitting is typically made up of thin, older white women, and that comes with certain privilege not afforded to other groups. People in these minority groups cannot "stick to their knitting" when their very existence in the knitting community is at times questioned, belittled and discouraged by way of entitled behaviour.

Knitting has changed my life for the better. I suffer from anxiety and having something to do with my hands that is productive is helpful for me. I love the feeling of creating something out of a piece of string - it's satisfying, and there's something useable at the end of each project. I love the slow burn of watching a garment appear. I love the sense of accomplishment when I've spent weeks creating a garment and seeing that it fits who it was intended for. But mostly I love the frustration of something not quite working out how I intended and the challenge of having to come up with a new plan!

On a practical level, knitting is important, too, for providing warmth for my family and making my own clothes. The modern patterns available now are a far cry from what I remember of knitting when I was younger; it's great seeing designers extending their ranges to be inclusive of all kinds of bodies.

The garment I'm most proud of is my Painting Bricks sweater. It is a garment that expanded my skills and means a lot to me. I chose the colours to remind me of Cordelia and made it to be like a winter hug in my season of grief.

I love the community I've become a part of. I love the wool itself. There is a lot to love about knitting.