Call it the case of the empress's new hat. Or hats.
As everyone who didn't didn't spend Inauguration Weekend kitesurfing on the planet Venus knows, the star feature of the Jan. 21 Women's March on Washington was the "pussyhat"–the pink, cat-eared hand-knit cap that hundreds of thousands of women donned as a kind of pun on a vulgar remark involving the word "pussy" that President Trump had made 12 years ago.
Ooh, how witty, how clever. how creative, how brave!, gushed the media.
"It begins with a bundle of pink yarn, a set of knitting needles, and a woman who wants to be heard," cooed CNN.
"For some knitters, it is hard to put the needles down as the deadline nears," yodeled the U.K. Guardian.
As they aired their messages of love, equality, kindness and hope, multitudes of marchers wore the pussyhats, creating rivers of pink from coast to coast and around the world.
Only one woman, it seems, looked at the massive symbolic display of female genitalia and decided it was…kind of gross.
That was Elizabeth Poe, owner of The Joy of Knitting, a yarn shop in Franklin, Tenn., who also didn't care much for the vagina costumes, placards painted with uteruses. or the explicit vocabulary of some of the March speakers. As the Federalist's Bre Payton reports:
When a woman visited her store the very next day asking for pink yarn to make a hat like the ones she had seen women wearing at the march on TV, she took to Facebook and asked customers who wanted yarn to make a pussyhat to go elsewhere.
Poe's Facebook post was quite blunt:
The vulgarity, vile and evilness of this movement is absolutely despicable. That kind of behavior is unacceptable and is not welcomed at The Joy of Knitting. I will never need that kind of business to remain open. Two wrongs will never ever make it right.
As the owner of this business and a Christian, I have a duty to my customers and my community to promote values of mutual respect, love, compassion, understanding, and integrity. The women's movement is counterproductive to unity of family, friends, community, and nation.
As might be expected, the feminists (and, undoubtedly, their male "allies") were quick to exact revenge for this breach of the unwritten rule that pussyhats are sassy and cute, period.
She stayed in the car for three hours reading the comments on her post before calling the police to alert them about the threatening tone of some of the responses.
On Wednesday morning, a crew from a local TV station walked into her store to film, as her post had gone viral. By the end of the day, she had received about 200 phone calls. On Thursday, 700 people called the store, on Friday, there were another 300 calls. On these calls, she’s been screamed at, called names, and threatened with rape and other violent acts. Some of the callers just breathed loudly into the phone.
The feminists also tried their best to destroy her business–even though it's the only woman-owned enterprise in the shopping center where it's located. Yelp got so flooded with negative reviews of Poe's yarn shop that it shut down its consumer posts.
Fortunately for Poe–and this likely wouldn't have happened if she'd located her business in New York City–her customers, and indeed customers from all over the world,, flooded her shop with orders and sympathy.
It's good to know leftist thuggery doesn't always win the day. But why was this small-businesswoman in a town in Tennessee likely the only person in America to notice that wearing a female genital symbol on your head is kind of distasteful?