Tiny but Mighty: The Stories of Pins and Badges

Although they may only weigh a few grams or an ounce or two, pins and badges have carried revolutions, identities, and bold declarations throughout history. This isn’t a story about accessories, it’s about art, politics, expression, identity, and communication.

Pins are small, portable, attachable, sometimes shiny, and easily overlooked. But pins and badges have sparked movements, marked allegiances, whispered rebellion, and screamed identity. They’ve adorned denim jackets, military uniforms, school backpacks, and protest gear. For something so compact, they pack one hell of a punch. We shouldn’t forget that small things can carry big messages.

In the world of pins and badges, design meets defiance, and symbolism fits in the palm of your hand.

A (Very) Brief History

The pin’s story goes way back, like really back. In Ancient Egypt, brooches and amulets were more than just pretty objects. The brooches usually had symbolic motifs using hieroglyphs and scarabs. Their thematic and iconographic function and statements sometimes outweighed their use as adornment. Brooches were used to signal rank, divinity, or protection. 

The Romans wore fibulae to clasp togas, often styled to show off military affiliations or regional pride. Some fibulae were also used as votive gifts for gods and goddesses, especially in Greek regions. These Roman pins could be large and flamboyant and were sometimes used to display wealth and position. While they were of practical use, they could also serve as decorative elements with symbolic meanings. Fibulae could, in a small way, speak to who the person wearing it was, and what role they played in society. 

Fast-forward to medieval Europe, badges evolved into portable propaganda. Pins, insignias, and badges, like pilgrim badges and heraldic symbols, were visual markers of identity, devotion, often social status, and signals of political allegiance and royal connections. Knights and nobles wore heraldic badges on cloaks and armor to show loyalty to houses and causes. During pilgrimages, travelers collected tin or lead badges from sacred sites as proof they’d been there, done that, and potentially found God (or at least tried to). The pins conveyed complex meanings and played a vital role in medieval culture. They were symbolically powerful. Also interesting is that they could be powerful in a physical way; they could be lethal. Sometimes, these dagger-like pins were used as actual weapons. 

In more modern times, badges moved from elite and/or religious purposes to have a more revolutionary flavor. Trade unions in the 19th century handed out enamel pins to build fellowship. These were often referred to as union buttons. They served as a tangible symbol of membership, paid dues, commitment, and union affiliation, but most importantly, a symbol of solidarity. This was especially important during the early days of labor organizing. The pins they wore were a visible expression of their commitment to the cause of workers’ rights and better working conditions. 

Historically, political parties have distributed pins to show party loyalty. Political pins have two off-shoots. Some pins are worn by the politicians themselves to make a statement, to create affinity or connection; the other is the pins used by people to support a specific campaign. This history in the U.S. starts with the first president, George Washington, who wore engraved buttons to decorate his inauguration suit. Even today, as with the broader population, pins also make a political statement for candidates themselves, as they wear pins that support their interests or stance.

In the early 20th century, suffragettes wielded beautifully designed pins as both fashion statements and weapons of ideology. They weren’t just asking for rights—they were declaring them. The pins had slogans, like “Votes for Women” and featured the colors of the movement. Like with the union pins, the suffragette pins were a symbol of solidarity. The National Women’s Party awarded silver pins shaped like a jail cell door with a heart-shaped padlock to women who had been “jailed for freedom” after picketing at the White House. Later in the 1920’s suffragists wore yellow rose pins (while anti-suffragists wore red rose pins.) These were powerful symbols that were used to raise funds, demonstrate support, and spark conversation. 

By the time the ’60s and ’70s rolled around, buttons were the medium of the counterculture. Peace symbols. Black Power fists. “Make Love Not War.” Protest pins were the hashtags of their day—short, loud, and everywhere. These visuals of the counterculture movement displayed support for causes, built solidarity among activists, and displayed new levels of individuality and nonconformity. 

The punk movement of the 70s also used the powerful messaging of pins and buttons. Punk badges featured bold, anti-establishment messages and imagery and were worn as a way to make fearless statements and defy societal norms. Most interestingly, punks reframed the simpler form of the safety pin. Similarly to the Romian fibulae, in the early days of punk, these were used to repair worn-out clothing. Later, the “street kids” embraced the simple safety pin, which remained a statement of rebellion, self-reliance, and self-expression.

And today? The use of protest pins and badges continues to be a powerful form of visual expression and activism. From punk scenes to Pride parades to quiet acts of resistance, the pin remains an artifact of identity, resistance, and joy.

What Is it that Pins Do

We’ve explored the different ways pins have been used historically, and it has definitely shown me, at least, that pins and badges may be decorative, but they’re anything but superficial. Here’s what I can see that they really do:

They signal a belonging. Whether it’s a flag, a band logo, or a cause, wearing a pin says, “I’m in line with this group of people.” They start conversations. A small element of design can open doors and, hopefully, minds. With questions like, “What’s that?” “Where’d you get it?” “Are you into that too?” Or in our case, “Why the Snake?!” When we engage with these questions, we can make new connections.

Pins distill complex ideas. A symbol can carry centuries of history or a fresh perspective, all without saying a word. This is wildly powerful. They invite rebellion, community, and dissent. There’s something inherently defiant about declaring something on your person, even if (or especially when) the world disagrees. It can be equally empowering to wear something that represents a significant value and then find solidarity through it.

In short, pins allow people to take up symbolic space to take a bold step toward a quiet rebellion.

Symbolism and Subversion in a Circle

Because of their accessibility and visual punch, pins have always been ripe for mischief, messaging, and meaning.

They’ve been banned (which, naturally, made people want them more). Authoritarian regimes, corporations, and even schools have tried to control which pins can be worn because they know that symbols are powerful. They have often promoted and encouraged the use of their own pins to display devotion, reward service, and, as opposed to positive movements, label and distinguish “the other.” And people have always pushed back.

The safety pin, originally meant to hold togas, diapers, and punk outfits together, became a quiet allyship symbol after political upheavals. Its symbolism is a beautiful play of softness and strength. First, the implication is that the wearer personifies ‘safe space,’ an individual who serves as a living, breathing, walking sanctuary. Second, the pin is a warning. The tip is sharp, needle-like, and can be used as a weapon. LGBTQ+ pride pins have served as lifelines and lighthouses. Feminist buttons, climate crisis pins, Black Lives Matter badges are all proof that the tiniest things can hold the biggest convictions. We will not disregard homemade pins and buttons from basement shows or zine festivals. These carry as much heart and fire as any official emblem—sometimes more, especially when the design is organic, genuine, and made with love. Anyone who has watched Empire Records will understand what I mean. Damn the Man, save the Empire!

The Personal Is Political (and Playful)

Now, to be clear, not every pin is a protest. Some are… celebrations. Or funny. Or nostalgic. And all of these are part of the beauty of pins.

You might wear a pin that says “Books Before Bros,” a perfectly enameled croissant because of your deep passion for baked goods, or a star as a reminder that we are all made of stardust. Maybe you choose your favorite fictional character or a tiny sketch of your dog. A pin you love might mean absolutely nothing to someone else, but to you, it’s become part of your story. 

People use pins to connect, remember, grieve, joke, honor their culture, and express themselves and their thoughts. Pins serve as both armor and invitation, holding both vulnerability and fierceness.

Why We Love Them

In this age of digital expression and disposable fashion, pins and badges can feel grounding. They’re defiantly analog. They’re tactile and intentional. When a person chooses to wear one, it has to be fastened in place by a set of hands, and then it gets sent into the physical world. And even when you’re not wearing them, they stick around. They live on cork boards, tote bags, and jackets passed down to younger siblings or friends. They’re small acts of identity that reject erasure.

Maybe that’s why people have been collecting them for millennia, why we design them, why we pin them to our hearts like tiny declarations of “I believe this,” “I love this,” or simply, “I exist.” At Super Genius Society, we couldn’t resist joining this long lineage of pin-powered storytelling. Our enamel pins featuring our tiny and fierce snake Scribble are love letters to curiosity, creativity, and critical thinking.

Because small things can say a lot.

And sometimes, they say it louder than words.

Explore the Super Genius pins → [Link to Shop]