Fashion as resistance: when clothing becomes a political act

Fashion has never been just about looking good. It’s about expressing identity, challenging norms, and speaking out against injustice. Whether it’s the suffragettes marching in dresses of white, purple, and green or the Black Panthers in their black leather jackets and berets — clothing has long been used as a tool of resistance that signals rebellion, solidarity, and political intent.

Clothing as protest

Fashion activism has evolved. It’s in the work of climate-conscious designers who transform waste into art. It’s in cultural garments worn as acts of defiance against bans and stereotypes. Resistance is woven into the very fabric of what we wear. While the fashion industry thrives on trends, activism is embedded in the history of clothing—it’s not just an aesthetic; it’s a statement.

Last season, I had the chance to volunteer at Fashion Art Toronto — Toronto’s longest-running fashion week — and witnessed how fashion is being used to make powerful political statements. 

One of the highlights of the week was a presentation by Aurélie Bérubé, the designer behind the fashion brand RéELLE. She presented her collection in a way that blurred the line between a fashion presentation and a protest. The models didn’t just walk the runway — they marched — each holding up a protest sign like a declaration of war against climate inaction. One sign read, “If not us, then who? Climate Justice Now! No fashion on a dead planet.”

The atmosphere was electric. The energy wasn’t just about the clothes, it was about the statement. As models strutted down the runway, papers printed to resemble newspaper clippings about climate change fluttered in the air, creating a visual metaphor for the urgency of the climate crisis. The garments were striking — not because of their flair, but because of their raw authenticity. They were made from deadstock materials and repurposed fabrics, a bold declaration against the fast fashion industry’s wastefulness.

Bérubé originally created this collection to culminate her time at Campus Notre-Dame-de-Foy, a private college in Saint-Augustin-de-Desmaures, Quebec. She explained in an interview with The Varsity: “I chose an industry that’s extremely harmful to the environment, so for my graduate collection… I explored ways to introduce more sustainability in fashion design.” She didn’t want us to simply admire her clothes; she wanted us to question what we wear and how it impacts the world around us.

Fashion has always been a platform for protest, but resistance isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s woven into the fabric of our daily lives. 

The quiet and loud politics of what we wear

Some forms of protest in fashion are unmistakable, but often the most powerful messages are found in the quiet details: a scarf wrapped a certain way or a symbol subtly incorporated into everyday outfits — like the keffiyeh, a traditional Middle Eastern headdress.

For Sara Rasikh — a member of Occupy for Palestine U of T and a master’s student in social justice education at OISE — the keffiyeh isn’t just an accessory; it’s a political statement. The black-and-white — or red-and-white — scarf has been long tied to Palestinian resistance and functions as a political symbol whether it’s worn on the runway or the street. Its presence alone sparks conversation — or sometimes controversy.

Rasikh wears the keffiyeh not as fashion, but as an act of resistance. “It represents the ongoing struggle for freedom and the right to exist without occupation,” she wrote in an email to The Varsity. Each time she wraps it around her neck, she’s carrying a message of resistance against the erasure of Palestinian culture and existence.

This resistance hasn’t always been met with understanding, as Rasikh recalled moments on campus where she experienced instances of policing and negative reactions to her form of dress. “One example was during an academic event where a faculty member subtly suggested that wearing it could make certain people “uncomfortable” and might “close doors” for me professionally,” she wrote.

“It was a reminder of how Palestinian symbols are often framed as inherently controversial or disruptive, even in spaces that claim to value academic freedom and diversity.” Rasikh shared.

 The keffiyeh’s place in fashion exists as both a symbol of solidarity and of ongoing resistance, which is undeniable. Yet, it’s also a reminder of how fashion can be policed. 

Where fashion activism goes next

Fashion has never been apolitical, and it’s not about to start. What’s changing is how activism is showing up in it. Instead of waiting for designers to speak out, more people are weaving resistance into their everyday style. Whether it’s supporting sustainable brands, wearing politically charged garments, or rejecting fast fashion altogether, activism is becoming a part of our daily decisions.

“Fashion is not just for the runway, it’s part of daily life too,” Bérubé said. That is where fashion activism holds its real power — it’s not just confined to runway shows or protests. It’s in the choices we make every day, in the clothes we wear, and how we express our values through style.

Rasikh feels the same way. For her, it’s not just about big gestures — it’s about everyday actions: “fashion can be both a tool for raising awareness and a means of creating change,” she wrote. “As more people realize the power of clothing and symbols, [it’s going to] play a bigger role in political discourse.” Her keffiyeh isn’t just a scarf — it’s a statement, an act of resistance.

Is fashion activism performative or powerful?

It’s easy to dismiss fashion activism as a surface-level gesture. Can a T-shirt with a slogan really change anything? Can a runway protest lead to action? After seeing Bérubé’s work and hearing Rasikh’s reflections, it’s clear that activism isn’t about creating noise — it’s about taking meaningful action, even in small ways. 

For Bérubé, this means challenging the fashion industry’s wastefulness — not just through public protests, but also by encouraging more sustainable practices on a personal level: “Capsule wardrobes, [buying] locally… shopping secondhand,” she said. “Sustainable fashion is not out of reach.” 

In other words, activism isn’t just about making a spectacle; activism is about creating change through conscious, everyday choices.

Rasikh echoes this sentiment in her own way. While the keffiyeh she wears is undeniably political, it’s also a deeply personal choice. “I believe fashion can be both a tool for raising awareness and a means [for] creating change,” she wrote. “When fashion becomes a medium for political expression, it has the potential to spark conversations and shift public attitudes.” Every time she wears the keffiyeh, it’s a declaration of her belief in freedom and justice; a belief she hopes others will understand, even if it makes them uncomfortable.

Clothing has always been more than just something we put on. It tells a story. The question is — what story are you telling with what you wear?