Three Reasons to Shop Ethically … and Four Reasons Not To {guest post}

By Beth Watkins |  Twitter: @iambethwatkins

Three Reasons to Shop Ethically…

1. It takes profits away from companies who hurt people.

The fashion industry is one of the biggest agents of slavery across the globe. Child labor is alive and well. Rivers downstream from the factories that dye our jeans and t-shirts are poisoned, leading to failing crops, lost farms, and whole villages of people who are incredibly sick. Garment workers for beloved brands are routinely physically and sexually abused. Lives and communities are being devastated by low wages, pollution, and cruelty and oppression by those who hold more power than they do. Divestment from these practices hurts the profits these companies make on the literal backs of others. And because there are alternatives I can mostly afford, there’s no need to encourage or reward companies doing evil.

2. You’re not complicit in a system dependent on the marginalization of people in order to function.

It’s a harrowing truth that, even with the best of intentions, all of us are complicit in modern-day slavery. Even if we could all afford fair-trade-everything all the time, we’re still complicit in slavery somewhere along the line (you can have a look at your slavery footprint here). Getting out as far as possible is good for our souls – if I want to be a person who loves my neighbors, how can I support a system that hurts them? May I not be one who sells the needy for a pair of sandals (Amos 2:6).

3. Ethical shopping supports people doing the right thing.

Most of the clothes and shoes we buy rely on highly skilled labor. I’m amazed by what artisans, makers, and craftsmen are capable of, and it’s good to support their work directly, or by companies who treat them like imago dei. The choice to pay employees a living wage and using materials that don’t harm makers or the environment are expensive choices to make. Businesses don’t make these choices for fun , but from principle. Responsibility, as well as from consumer demand. Those who make the hard choice deserve positive reinforcement – and yes, financial reward to cover the cost of the work.

…and Four Reasons Not To

With that said, consuming ethically isn’t as simple or straightforward as it seems. In fact, there are some reasons why maybe you shouldn’t shop responsibly.

1. Things can get real elitist, real fast.

Buying ethically is great – for those who can afford to do it. The price of single items from ethical brands can easily run into the hundreds of dollars. Ethical fashion becomes the domain of a white, middle-class, Instagram-influencer culture very quickly, with garments privileging those with small waistlines and large wallets. Sure – a conscious lifestyle can seem like the way everyone should be living, but if it’s out of reach for those who make $20,000 a year, is it truly just?

2. Turns out some of it isn’t even that ethical at all.

Many companies touting themselves as green or ethical are guilty of greenwashing – posturing themselves as ethical as a marketing strategy instead of a commitment to any actual positive good or change. Given the costs of ethical production,  many big companies prefer to make small, nominal steps – and still reap the financial rewards from customers who have been led to believe they’re making better choices.

While it’s important to pay a living wage to garment makers, how ethical is a company if the fabrics and materials they used aren’t sourced ethically? When “ethical” is a marketing strategy and not a commitment, the results can be almost as bad as non-ethical options.

3. Ethical consumerism makes us worse people.

Studies show humans are permissive creatures who run on trade-offs. Thanks to the “halo effect,” we are more likely to cheat and steal after purchasing something we perceive as “ethical.” We also end up looking down on others – Hannah of Life+Style+Justice says: “There are certainly feelings of superiority that can come with making good choices, or what I perceive as the best choices, that’s quite prideful and ugly.”

Those are sins of commission, but there are also sins of omission. Buying things is easy; justice is hard. Instead of the common good capturing our imaginations and taking root in our actions, “ethical” can become a buzzword. The danger with ethical consumption is it becomes another trendy way to make us feel better about ourselves without commitment to our communities.

4. We can’t buy our way to a better world.

Recently I saw a friend on Instagram sharing pictures of accessories fairly made in developing countries, with the caption “ending poverty never looked so beautiful!” This approach is problematic for lots of reasons, not least because it takes all the complexities of global poverty and inequality, and turns it into something individuals can remedy simply by buying cute things.

People are poor as a result of huge, systemic issues and long histories of colonization, powerful countries exploiting other countries, with long-lasting impacts on global inequality today. While I agree with the Starfish Story approach to assistance, our efforts should be focused on ending systemic evils and rapacious policies, as well as on reparations for historic injustice.

To only focus on our own consumption as a fix is not only short-sighted, but also unfair to those we seek to help. It ignores our true agency – as the author of Myth of the Ethical Shopper puts it, “our real leverage is with our policies, not our purchases.” We can’t buy our way to a better world.

While ethical consumption is presented as an alternative to faceless corporate capitalism, it still relies on the same logic – desire more, consume more, it will make you happy and the world better. It’s a better alternative in our current paradigm – but it’s still in the same paradigm.

It would do us well to understand some of the complexity, history, (and our own country’s responsibility) in global inequality before we claim we can change the world just by buying a beaded necklace.

About Beth:

Beth WatkinsBeth Watkins spent the last 6 years working in North and Sub-Saharan Africa with street children, refugees, and other vulnerable populations. She is currently settling back in the US with her immigrant husband and writes about living toward the kingdom of God and flailing awkwardly into neighbor-love at her website where her free e-book “For the Moments I Feel Faint: Reflections on Fear & Showing Up” is available.

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Photo by Artem Bali on Unsplash

Why I Paint African Faces {guest post}

By Beth Watkins | Twitter: @iambethwatkins

I’ve always been a maker. I can’t help myself. I’m an extremely tactile person. I love doing things with my hands and if I see something I think I could make myself, I absolutely want to teach myself how to do it.

I sold homemade jewelry on the playground in 4th grade, and again in high school. I carried around no less than 4 notebooks and 50 pens from the 5th to the 10th grade – always on the ready to doodle, draw, and write about my feelings in full color. I got my first set of real paints when I was 11, set up my studio in the basement, and read books about impressionism before bed. I won my first award for a painting when I was 12 and sold my first acrylic painting when I was 16. I was always collecting supplies, making things out of what I could find, and went through a really intense phase of dyeing, appliqueing, and painting on my clothes.

I thought I would apply to art school, but then decided God wanted me in Africa instead. I took my acrylic paints with me but turns out when you live in a desert the paint dries a lot faster and I couldn’t work with it the same way. So I made jewelry with beads and electric wire. I took bottle caps and wire and sat with street boys and we made cars, snakes, and rickshaw sculptures. When I went home I’d draw pictures of these boys, of my desert home, crosshatching their faces, the mosques, the ladies in their colorful tobes.

A few years later I sat with former street girls at a center in South Sudan and we made bead looms out of cardboard and they learned to weave necklaces and bracelets, attaching them to closures made from inner tube. They loved it.

We’d sit for hours and hours, wondering where the time went – marveling at how quiet the center was now that hands were occupied and fights broke out less. The older girls would teach the younger ones, and we sold their wares. By doing so the girls stopped selling their bodies. They made their own intricate designs, invented their own techniques, and went from students to teachers.

Again, in the evenings, I’d sketch their faces as I wrote their stories in my journal, not sure how so much beauty and so much pain could coincide together.

I’m back in the US now – taking my making with me. I’ve learned to make shoes, how to can tomatoes and pickles (the composing of a delicious meal being as much creation as a painting – just one that nourishes us in different ways) and make standing planters and raised garden beds out of burlap sacks, scrap bricks, and anything else I can find.

I’m still painting portraits – our house is filled with colorful paintings of African faces. Faces of people I’ve known, loved, and had to leave. As I paint them I remember, I pray. They are tributes in a way. Marks of seasons now over. They fade into the background now, more or less, but sometimes I stop and I remember. Faces of people I love, marking dreams lost, grief, the changing of things with time.

My husband and I were apart the last three months of our engagement. He was still in South Sudan and I was in the US getting counseling and planning our wedding. I painted a 3’x3’ portrait of our faces from a picture taken the night we got engaged. I was worried for him, still in a tumultuous place, a country at war. I couldn’t hug him, touch him, see in his eyes if he was ok or not, so I painted him. I got to scrutinize each hair, each freckle, the curve of his smile and render it with my own hand. It was deeply meaningful to paint, forming his face on a canvas when he was so far away.

I make out of practicality sometimes, but mostly joy. And I think it is in this joy we ourselves have been made.

I always did and I still do get a little flutter when I finish a picture or project. Whether it’s shoes for a friend, an ambitious baking project, an illustration for a freelance project, or another portrait on our ever-crowded walls, I get the flutter because while I’m in the process I’m never always sure that finishing will come.

Most of what I make isn’t for day-to-day use. Much of it sits tucked away. It’s the making that fills my soul. An idea that is seen through until the end. Getting surprised again and again that some of the things I make turn out nicely. All the better if it is something that sparks joy for someone I love.

Maybe that’s what the Creator feels about us too. I don’t think God gets surprised about what those Almighty hands are capable of, but God must experience something like pure joy in creation. Joy that begets joy. God creates us and not only do we find great joy in what else and who else has been created alongside, we take what we have and what we can find and we make art, gardens, jewelry and clothing, homes and poems, stews and cakes and we make and we make and we multiply joy as we create as God taught us how.

We are makers of beauty because we’ve been beautifully crafted.

 We are unique and flawed, becoming masters in our crafts while others master theirs. We make mistakes and we learn and we make as we have been made. We create as we have been created. In love, in pained labor, and the world is better because we keep making, because we’ve been made in the image, and part of that image is that of maker.

(all images by Beth Watkins)

About Beth:

Beth Watkins spent the last 6 years working in North and Sub-Saharan Africa with vulnerable populations. She is currently settling back in the US with her immigrant husband and writes about flailing awkwardly into neighbor-love at http://www.iambethwatkins.com and on Twitter: @iambethwatkins.

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Our theme this month is “Create.” If you are a maker, artist, or creator and you would like to guest post, I still have a few spots left! Otherwise, check out the themes for the coming months here. The theme for July is “Hospitality Around the World.” And if you’re not interested in guest posting, follow me on social media (buttons on the top right) to be sure you don’t miss a post this month!

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Why I Paint African Faces, by Beth Watkins. (blog post) #art #artists #create #creativity #makers #createdtocreate #painters #inspirationforartists

 

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