The Keffiyeh—On Culture, Consumerism and Sumud

E. Mark Windle 30 September 2026 (photography: Mandy Farrar)

Sumūd (Arabic, noun: steadfastness, perseverance)

Among the uncertainties that laid ahead for the flotilla as it sailed towards Gaza in late 2025, there was at least one known: that its effect on placing the world’s focus on Gaza had not gone unnoticed. At least one section of society was viewing these non-violent civilian campaigns as a genuine international display of empathy; a necessary response in light of government inertia to Israel’s offensive in Gaza.

The flood of support from social media was proof of that solidarity, as were the public turn-outs at the ports and despatch of naval vessels from more supportive countries to provide surveillance and ‘recovery assistance’ for boats in distress. That sense of solidarity was further cemented when scenes were broadcast of the flotilla coalition preparing to sail from ports across Europe and North Africa. Among the crowds waving their Palestinian flags was the unmistakable sight of the keffiyeh: that universally recognised symbol of resistance and resilience.

ARAB TRADITION AND PALESTINIAN IDENTITY

Depending on the region, you might hear the traditional scarf or headdress referred to by other names. Perhaps the hattah, the ghutrah or shemagh. Its original purpose was purely functional. Some say the nomadic Bedouin from the Arabian Peninsula and modern-day Iraq were first to wear it as protection from the sun and desert sand. Indeed, the word kuffiyeh appears to have been derived from Kufa, a city located someway south of Baghdad. Farmers and villagers of Arab lands east of Egypt also adopted the scarf, requiring similar shielding from the dust that blows across the Levant’s largely arid landscape, or to double as a shoulder wrap in cool evenings and winters.

Only relatively recently in historical terms—pretty much over the last 100 years—has this simple accessory established itself as a symbol of solidarity, a fashion statement and an icon of Arab culture. The Arab Revolt of the mid-1930s was one important reference point where the keffiyeh‘s role morphed from a very practical function to a proud representation of Palestinian identity.

Prior to the Revolt, the keffiyeh was associated primarily with the rural fellahin. Wealthier communities had alternative status symbols such as the tarbush, or fez. Now, Arab rebel leaders were encouraging all Palestinians to adopt the distinctly patterned keffiyeh that the world recognises today—the fishnet motif signifying the association with the sea, bold lines for trade routes, and curved shapes for olive trees or ears of corn.

As a symbol of sumud, the significance of wearing the keffiyeh particularly came to the fore when Israel prohibited public displays of the Palestinian flag in occupied West Bank and the Gaza Strip in 1967. The ban was revoked in 1993—only to be reinstated once again thirty years later by Itamar Ben-Gvir, Minister of National Security.

(image copyright: Mandy Farrar)

POLARISED SOCIETY

Many public figures have worn the keffiyeh. Nelson Mandela, Fidel Castro and Yasser Arafat are obvious examples. UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese wears hers proudly. For many observers, it has become an instantly recognisable display of unity, revolution and self-determination, lending itself perfectly to a diverse range of movements that campaign against social injustice and oppression.

Given the specific arenas some of these notable people moved in, the keffiyeh has also inevitably divided opinion on what it represents. These days, the most likely influence on how the keffiyeh is interpreted is the manipulation of societal attitudes toward cultural diversity. The paranoia and xenophobia stoked by politicians and far-right groups while ‘debating’ domestic issues of race and immigration are palpable in many Western countries. In the UK, US and elsewhere we are seeing increases in hate crime, unprovoked verbal attacks, destruction of property, and violence. In 2023, three college students in Burlington, Vermont were shot on their way to a family dinner for no determinable reason other than speaking Arabic—and wearing keffiyehs.

THE QUICK BUCK

The flipside to this is the production, use and popularity of the keffiyeh as a fashion item. Hints were about during the 1970s and 1980s that the scarf could become a commercially viable accessory, after adoption by youth subculture. Designers at European fashion houses like Balenciaga, Isabel Marant and Louis Vuitton soon caught on and introduced it to the catwalks, albeit in admiration of the aesthetic, rather than some industry desire to make a political statement.

The scarf and its design filtered down to the high street. China was the first to seize the opportunity for mass production, using a cheaper cotton and polyester blend as opposed to traditional 100% cotton fabric. To this day East Asia continues to be a major exporter to the West and (ironically) to the Arab nations.

External competition and Israeli tensions have drastically threatened the capacity for keffiyeh production within Palestine. In 2000, there were 120 textile factories in the West Bank. Within a year of China entering the market, most of these were forced to close. As of August 2026, only one commercial Palestinian manufacturer operated in Israeli-occupied West Bank. At its most productive, the Hirbawi family business had a turnover of 750 scarves per day. In 2010, with only two looms operating, 300 keffiyehs were made weekly. That number has increased dramatically in recent years, though frustratingly Hirbawi struggles to meet demand. Most of what is made sells in the West Bank, with a smaller percentage reaching neighbouring Arab countries and Europe.

Whenever fashion co-opts ethnic or traditional clothing and designs, the question of cultural appropriation is raised. The patterned keffiyeh is now firmly established as a marketable commodity, along with Free Palestine mugs, Gaza-shaped pendant necklaces, watermelon T-shirts and keffiyeh pattern inspired skirts, blouses and cardigans. There will always be drop-shippers and entrepreneurs ready to cash in. Some may argue—rightly—that despite its association, the print is not an exclusively Palestinian tradition. I firmly disagree with writer Ellie Violet Bramley’s comment in her Guardian article, The Keffiyeh: Symbol of Palestinian Struggle Falls Victim to Fashion, that keffiyeh print has shifted from ‘activist chic’ to ‘straight-up chic’. There’s a much bigger picture here.

GLOBAL SOLIDARITY

World sales of the keffiyeh as a fashion item have not diluted its symbolic importance. Many wearers who are not Palestinian, or even Arab, consider it as visible affirmation of their commitment to support the oppressed or under-represented: that concern for others (including communities other than their own) is still a ‘thing’.

Purchases support the Palestinian cause in very practical ways too. Sales of scarves and derivative clothing, like those sold by the Palestinian Solidarity Campaign, fund resources required for media campaigns, lobbying government, and organising human rights rallies. The fashion outlet Wear the Peace, whose two founders are descendants of refugees, provided in excess of 200,000 US dollars to Gaza during 2024 and 2025, through profits from their “Palestine Collections” range. Using ethical sourcing, a range of international fashion retailers provide vital links that help Palestinian businesses like Hirbawi to survive.

There has also been an unprecedented demand for the keffiyeh since Israel’s offensive on Gaza. It’s no coincidence that within two months of the escalation in conflict since October 2023, online sales of keffiyehs and traditional Palestinian clothing increased by 330% according to the data analyst company Jungle Scout. Surely, further evidence of the world’s compassion and support for the people of Palestine.

Author bio: E. Mark Windle is a freelance writer and author with interests in human rights and international culture. He has also worked on multiple biographical projects as a senior writer for Story Terrace (London, UK), and as a ghostwriter with Sheridan Hill / Real Life Stories LLC (North Carolina, USA).