A Cycle of Dependency: How Donations Worsen Income Inequality

Regardless of the good intentions behind donations, the short-term gain experienced by poor communities often leads to the persistence of income inequality and an endless cycle of dependency. 

Secondhand clothing in Haiti. Vanberto. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 

Donations are often associated with a positive image of helping destitute populations get the resources they lack. Yet, this short-term aid often results in far-reaching consequences detrimental to a country’s economy, which leads to the persistence of income inequality.

The donation of money that goes toward buying resources for impoverished communities often creates an endless cycle of dependency, especially if such service is repeatedly conducted through organizations or companies. First, the repeated nature of such service creates a false assumption among receivers that there will always be a supply of that resource without work, making them reliant on such aid. Moreover, the organizations themselves are indirectly relying on marginalized areas to promote their businesses’ charitable work. For instance, back in 2006, when TOMS started its “one for one” program, it would donate a pair of shoes for every pair that was purchased. Although the company’s motive seemed to be pure, it relied on underprivileged populations’ need for shoes to increase its business revenue. 

84% of unwanted clothing is thrown into landfills

When donations are consistently provided, those living in poverty often learn to become dependent on the donors as they see less reason to get out of their current situation. Local businesses also shut down, as the need to produce items goes away when high-quality donations are provided at a minimal price from external sources. Although that may come as great news for citizens of developing countries, most of the profit in this exchange goes to the exporters. A 2006 report found that, “textile and clothing employment in Ghana declined by 80% from 1975 to 2000; in Zambia it fell from 25,000 workers in the 1980s to below 10,000 in 2002; and in Nigeria the number of workers fell from 200,000 to being insignificant.” Such statistics imply that despite the good nature of external aid, it often comes at the expense of the receiving countries.

Haiti is a common dumping ground for secondhand clothing primarily from the United States, and due to its regular occurrence, locals have given this process the name “Pepe.” The Netflix documentary “The True Cost” elaborates on how Haiti’s textile industry is suffering due to the widespread popularity of Pepe, leading the country’s local clothing industry to disappear. For this reason, some countries have started to refuse the import of secondhand clothing, and more of it ends up in recycling facilities. Yet according to Newsweek, 84% of unwanted clothing is thrown into landfills. 

To combat waste, then, the fast-fashion industry needs to start recycling its own goods, minimize seasonal sales, make more durable products and normalize wearing recycled apparel. Additionally, governments need to start promoting the creation of more jobs for impoverished communities, so that all the necessary resources are available in the market at reasonable prices. Finally, donors should remember that regardless of good intentions, deprived communities may suffer long-term consequences due to misunderstood charity work.

Swati Agarwal

Swati Agarwal is a sophomore at University of California, San Diego, where she is studying Environmental Sciences and Theatre. Although born in India, she was raised in Tokyo, which gave her the opportunity to interact with diverse people from distinct cultures. She is passionate about writing, and hopes to inspire others by spreading awareness about social justice issues and highlighting the uniqueness of the world.

Donating Used Clothing May Do More Harm Than Good

Donated clothes rarely end up in the hands of someone who needs them. Instead, they usually end up in landfills or overwhelming already struggling industries.

Landfill in Kenya. Thad K. CC BY-SA 2.0. 

Many Americans assume donating is the best thing they could do with their old, unwanted clothing. However, in reality, more than 80% of donated clothing ends up in landfills. Only clothing in the best condition is accepted into secondhand stores in the U.S., such as Goodwill or Buffalo Exchange. Even then, if the clothing remains in the store without being purchased for weeks at a time, the store itself often disposes of it. The rejected clothing often ends up in landfills or is shipped overseas. 

Americans buy five times as much clothing, on average, than they did 30 years ago. However, the quality of the clothing most people buy has decreased due to fast fashion trend cycles, resulting in an average of only seven wears per piece. The increase in purchasing combined with the decrease in wear time has resulted in an overwhelming influx of clothing donations in the past 30 years. 

In theory, shipping unwanted clothing to countries seems like a good thing; it has the potential to create jobs and provide more affordable clothing. Unfortunately, many countries (mostly in East Africa, where unwanted clothes are most commonly sent to, with the exception of Ghana)  cannot handle the sheer mass of the clothing they are receiving. The U.S. ships up to 700,000 tons of clothing overseas every year, which is simply too much for the textile and clothing industries to disperse. Additionally, secondhand clothing sells for such a small fraction compared to new clothing in East Africa, causing local companies unable to compete with cheap clothing to go out of business. 

Clothing Donation Stop. Laura0509. CC BY-SA 2.0.

Several East African countries (Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Burundi and Rwanda) even signed a ban on the importation of used clothing from the U.S. in 2016. The Trump administration negotiated with the East African Community (EAC) to reverse the ban, which they did, mostly due to international pressure. With that being said, certain countries, such as Kenya, claim to rely on the influx of clothing from the U.S. to keep their textile industry up and running. But while that is the case for Kenya, donated clothing does more harm than good for the majority of East African countries. 

In terms of the environment, secondhand clothing markets in every country in the world are simply unable to keep up with the amount of discarded clothing as the fast fashion industry continues to ramp up production exponentially. Whether the clothing begins its journey in a thrift store in the U.S. or on a plane to Kenya, it is ultimately most likely to end up creating more waste. The myth of clothing donation is part of what propels the fast fashion industry; people think donating their clothes will have an ultimately positive impact, and so they feel justified in continuing to amass more clothing. 

Ultimately, the most effective fix for this problem would be to reduce collective clothing consumption. The less unnecessary clothing that is bought, the less clothing waste will be produced. With that being said, there are other options to reduce your clothing waste. Instead of donating your unwanted clothing, giving it directly to someone that you know wants and will use it ensures that it won’t end up in a landfill, at least in the short-term. Donating your clothing to homeless or women’s shelters is also another option, as they have more need than thrift stores such as Goodwill or Salvation Army. However, even when it comes to donating clothing to shelters, the clothing must be in good enough condition to actually be worn. If it’s not, another option is to keep and repurpose it yourself. Old fabric can be used as stuffing or kept for a future art project. All in all, donating excess clothing can be the last resort, which comes after making an effort to buy less, trade within your own circles and repurpose used materials.

Calliana Leff

Calliana is currently an undergraduate student at Boston University majoring in English and minoring in psychology. She is passionate about sustainability and traveling in an ethical and respectful way. She hopes to continue her writing career and see more of the world after she graduates.

Congo Couture: “Sapeurs” Bring Europe’s Designer Fashion to Central Africa

The Republic of the Congo’s world-famous fashionistas strut through the streets of Brazzaville wearing outfits from Europe’s most revered designers. But to sapeurs, their fashion savvy is not just style but a lifestyle. 

A sapeur in his Sunday best. ilja smets. CC BY-ND 2.0.

Maxime Pivot makes all the ladies scream. Men call him the pride of the town. Children follow him wherever he goes. The Republic of the Congo has never seen a more dashing, debonair, sharp-dressing gentleman. As a modern-day dandy in the streets of Brazzaville, he is a painterly splash of Congo couture amid near-universal penury. He boasts a double-breasted red suit, a pearl-white shirt, pitch-black sunglasses and a pink bowtie, an outfit to amaze the prim and plebeian alike. Rather than envy, his panache inspires pride. Some may call his focus on fashion amid staggering poverty vain, but really, he is preserving a decades-long tradition. He is a sapeur. 

That means that he is a member of the Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes—La Sape for short. In English, it translates to the Society of Ambiance-Makers and Elegant People. Every weekend, he and his fellow dandies meet to compare outfits from the hottest European designers, trade notes on color combinations and revel in the pomp of haute couture. They smoke, they dance and they conversate. They escape the squalor in which so many Congolese live—when sapeurs dress up, they feel like the richest men in the world.

No, they are not rich. Quite the opposite. By day, sapeurs are chefs, mechanics, electricians, craftsmen, businessmen, handymen, journeymen, or any other kind of blue-collar worker. 70 percent of people in the Republic of the Congo live in poverty, and most sapeurs are included in that number. What distinguishes them is not wealth but aesthetic distinction, good taste, and a deep knowledge of the latest fashion trends. They aspire to look like a million bucks, not spend it. 

The street is a catwalk. Jean-Luc Dalembert. CC BY-SA 4.0.

The tradition began during the Congo’s colonial period. Congolese servants, tired of wearing their Belgian and French colonizers’ secondhand clothes, began saving their wages and purchasing the latest clothes for European dandies.  After serving in the French army during World War II, Congolese soldiers returned home bringing closets-worth of European suits, shirts, ties, shoes and accessories. By the time the central African nation gained independence in 1960, many Congolese elites were making pilgrimages to Paris to rack up designer clothes for their wardrobes back home. Although they were accused of relying on white, “Western” traditions, most sapeurs insist on their artistic independence. As Papa Wemba, one of La Sape’s earliest celebrities, said, “White people invented the clothes, but we make an art of it.”

 
 

However, investing in clothes instead of, say, property or livestock can be difficult to justify in one of the poorest parts of the world. Many sapeurs hide their expensive lifestyles from relatives to avoid endangering family ties. If a cousin learns that their family member would rather buy an Armani suit or Weston shoes than help put food on the table, they may feel betrayed and break off relations. Furthermore, the wives of sapeurs tend to bear the brunt of the sapeur lifestyle far more heavily than their husbands, as they suffer the financial cost without being able to revel in high fashion. 

European style, African art. Opencooper. CC BY-SA 4.0.

La Sape is overwhelmingly male. Overwhelmingly, but not entirely. As the tradition evolves, more women are staking their claim as sapeuses. They, too, don designer suits from Versace, Dior and Yves Saint Laurent and develop mannerisms and gaits to build a persona around their clothes. Even children are beginning to partake in the sapeur culture. Many worry that Congolese tailors lack apprentices to carry on the tradition, so the sight of a child strutting down the streets of Brazzaville in an Armani suit assures them that the legacy of La Sape will continue. 

In fact, Maxime Pivot established an organization, Sapeurs in Danger, to preserve the tradition of La Sape, which he asserts is not just about fashion but also is a way of life. When committing to the lifestyle, sapeurs adopt a code of conduct which Ben Mouchaka, another famous sapeur, summed up in 2000. He calls it the Ten Commandments of Sapeology. 

1- Thou shalt practise La Sape on Earth with humans and in heaven with God thy creator.

2- Thou shalt bring to heel ngayas (non-connoisseurs), nbéndés (the ignorant), and tindongos (badmouthers) on land, under the earth, at sea and in the skies.

3- Thou shalt honour Sapeology wherever thou goest.

4- The ways of Sapeology are impenetrable for any Sapeologist who does not know the rule of 3: a trilogy of finished and unfinished colours.

5- Thou shalt not give in.

6- Thou shalt demonstrate stringent standards of hygiene in thy body and clothes.

7- Thou shalt not be tribalistic, nationalist, racist or discriminatory.

8- Thou shalt not be violent or insolent.

9- Thou shalt abide by the Sapelogists’ rules of civility and respect thy elders.

10- Through prayer and these 10 commandments, thou, as a Sapeologist, shall conquer the Sapeophobes.

Maxime Pivot aims to pass down the tradition of La Sape to any man, woman, or child willing to devote themselves to the lifestyle. He operates a school of La Sape where he teaches aspiring sapeurs how to combine colors tastefully and craft a swaggering gait. His classes teach that La Sape needn’t sap their wallets. As the sapeur life and style spread, he hopes that dandies will don local brands, not just expensive European ones.

Innovating a classic style. Makangarajustin. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Then, La Sape could be truly independent from European designers. Fashion trends have been increasingly moving in that direction, thanks to Maxime Pivot’s efforts, especially now that La Sape has moved into the mainstream. Every August 15, the Republic of the Congo’s independence day, sapeurs march alongside the military, indigenous tribes and even the President in the largest parade of the year. Their flashy clothes and sauntering stride draw cheers from the crowd. Their tradition provides an example of how the country can emerge from an oppressive European past and spring into a liberated African future.

Michael McCarthy

Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.

Indigenous Fashion Hits the Runway

Long overlooked Indigenous artists are revolutionizing the fashion world. Balancing innovation and tradition, these designers envision a sustainable, inclusive way of creating clothes.

Indigenous women sewing. SriHarsha PVSS. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Nothing about this year’s Indigenous Fashion Week Toronto (IFWTO) went according to plan. The pandemic demanded a totally virtual fashion venue without a live audience, forcing the Indigenous communities that comprise it to rethink what a fashion week could be. Then again, reimagining the fashion industry is the forte of many Indigenous designers.

The IFWTO featured 16 designers with their own unique takes on Indigenous fashion, the clothing created by designers from a native background. It included artists from across the world who are united by a shared Indigenous heritage. Combining traditional figures and techniques with mainstream styles yielded some of the week’s most exciting work. Mobilize, for instance, fused Indigenous writing and designs with streetwear hoodies and jackets to innovate style while staying true to its roots. Audiences took well to Mobilize’s style; most of its items sold out. 

Mobilize and other Indigenous brands seek to fundamentally change the fashion industry’s status quo. Jamie Okuma, a California designer of Luiseño and Shoshone-Bannock descent, emphasizes resourcefulness and respect for nature in her garments. “All of my work has tradition at its core ... So I try to utilize everything possible in my work—with my art, supplies, fabric—and not be wasteful.” Crafted with patience, detail and care, her pieces are meant to be worn again and again. “We all have those go-to pieces in our closet that we keep for years and literally wear out before we retire them,” she says. “I'm here to make the go-tos, the keepers.”

Shoes designed by Jamie Okuma. nonelvis. CC By-NC-SA 2.0.

Okuma’s approach is a welcome change to the dominant fad of “fast fashion.” These items, mass produced by large companies, are designed season by season and intended to fall out of fashion and be thrown out within a year. This approach to fashion differs starkly from that of Indigenous creators, who value durability, tradition and craftsmanship, even if it comes with a much higher sticker price. Though fast fashion allows consumers to don the latest runway fashions at an affordable price, it comes at a steep environmental cost. Products often fall apart within weeks or are thrown out having never been worn, earning the style the nickname “landfill fashion.”

A billboard for Grace Lillian Lee’s fashion. Brisbane City Council. CC BY 2.0.

Grace Lillian Lee, designer and co-founder of First Nations Fashion and Design in Australia, seeks a place for Indigeneity in the mainstream. “There’s definitely a lot that non-Indigenous people and designers can learn from Indigenous people,” she says, “especially in terms of sustainability.” Her work relies heavily on the weaving techniques of Torres Strait Islanders. More than a way to promote sustainability, Lee calls her clothing “a soft entry into reconciliation and healing our people.” Such meaningful craftsmanship doesn’t fall out of style by next season; it is passed down through generations.

Lisa Folawiyo. NDaniTV. CC BY 3.0.

Indigenous fashion is just beginning to enjoy its long overdue time in the sun. Dresses by Lisa Folawiyo, a Nigerian and West Indian designer, have been worn proudly by the likes of Solange Knowles and Lupita Nyong’o. Her intricate, flowing dresses explode with color. Boasting hand-embellished designs, Folawiyo’s dresses can take up to 240 hours to complete. Her West African designs have won the plaudits of the international fashion world and effortlessly outshine the mass-produced artifacts of fast fashion.


A dress by Lisa Folawiyo. Museum at FIT. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Indigenous people still generally lack a place at the corporate level. Sage Paul, a member of Canada’s English River First Nation who now lives in Toronto, called for the post-pandemic “new normal” to include the voices of Indigenous people in an article for The Kit. Fashion emerged from a 14th-century European aristocracy, she argues, and colonized Indigenous people to steal resources, goods and fashion trends. “The colonial systems we are operating under no longer serve our society, and the only way we will evolve is by allowing new and interconnected systems to come to the fore.” That means moving Indigenous brands into the mainstream. 

The IFWTO is a good place to start. Its online market links viewers directly to designers’ websites. Live panel discussions provided a glimpse into the questions and concerns of some of Indigenous fashion’s most admired artists. Videos of models strutting the catwalk resembled music videos, showcasing the unbridled possibilities of Indigenous fashion. Most importantly, it put more Indigenous designers on the map. As of now, they show no signs of slowing down.

Michael McCarthy

Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.

Unraveling the Fashion Industry

The fashion industry’s unsustainable practices are increasingly under scrutiny.

A snapshot of the 26 billion pounds of textile waste (source: Planet Aid).

The environmental impact of the fashion industry has become a matter of Parliamentary concern in the United Kingdom. The Commons Environmental Audit Committee is launching an investigation into the fashion industry to assess just how unsustainable it is and how the industry might become more sustainable for the future. The inquiry reflects growing concern over the fashion industry’s fast fashion phenomenon that rapidly mass produces clothes for consumption.

Fast fashion is a recent phenomenon that is part of the evolution of the fashion industry. Traditionally clothing was a household endeavor. Changes began with advancements of the Industrial Revolution that introduced ready-made clothing, or clothes sold in a variety of sizes. Yet the changes were selective and mostly reserved for the middle-class individuals who could afford it. Changes continued to occur throughout the 20th century, but it was not till World War II that standardized clothing was widely accepted.  However, the signal for today’s fashion driven world was the 1960s: when the younger generation embraced cheaply made clothes.

Companies responded to increased demand by outsourcing labor to developing countries—much as it is done today. The low quality, high quantity mentality of today’s fashion industry can be seen as a natural development of shifts over the years to more affordable clothing. 

The drive for affordability has led to certain practices that many question for the waste
produced. Instead of the traditional two seasons—Spring/ Summer and Fall/Winter—in
which designers launched the next fashion trend, there are now about 52 micro-seasons in which new fashion is constantly being churned out. Further, popular retailers are often receiving weekly  shipments of new clothing. What this does is make the consumer feel like they are always out-of-date and compel them to keep buying clothing so they can keep up with current trends. Another factor that encourages waste is that most clothes today are made out of lower quality fabrics. Plus, retailers may even disguise such lower quality clothes with “discounts” to convey an illusion of high quality goods. These practices, focused on getting the consumer to consume, only create more waste.

Eco-fashion activist Livia Firth is known for saying in 2015 that “Disposable clothes…stay in a woman’s closet for an average of just five weeks, before being thrown out.”

Indeed, a 2016 survey concluded that the average American throws away around 82 pounds of clothing a year: 26 billion pounds of textiles. Of that 26 billion pounds, according to the nonprofit Council for Textile Recycling, only 15% is donated and 85%, or about 70 pounds per person, ends up in the landfills. This waste is a result of a cycle of “careless production and endless consumption” as stated in the 2015 True Cost documentary.

And it’s not just the landfills that are feeling fast fashion’s impact—fast fashion is criticized for its water pollution, use of toxic chemicals, and its treatment of workers. The Parliament’s inquiry into the UK fashion industry will provide a necessary glimpse into how the global fashion industry might be able to change for the better. But is also a responsibility of individuals to be conscious consumers of what they wear.

 

TERESA NOWALK is a student at the University of Virginia studying anthropology and history. In her free time she loves traveling, volunteering in the Charlottesville community, and listening to other people’s stories. She does not know where her studies will take her, but is certain writing will be a part of whatever the future has in store.

Education of Girls in the Developing World & How Le Dessein Helps

If women in the developing countries completed secondary education, 3 million children under the age of 5 would be saved every year.

This unfortunate statistic by the I.M.F. is just one the many plights young girls and women in general are facing in parts of Africa, Asia and Latin America. 

Here are some more startling facts:

1) More than 115 million 6 to 12-year old children are not in school in the developing world; three-fifths of them are girls.

2) When a girl in the developing world receives seven or more years of education, she marries four years later and has 2.2 fewer children.

3) A woman with six or more years of education is more likely to seek prenatal care, assisted childbirth, and postnatal care, reducing the risk of maternal and child mortality and illness.

4) When women and girls earn income, they reinvest 90 percent of it into their families, as compared to only 30 to 40 percent for a man.

5) Today, the U.S. invests in its future by spending about $6,800 a year per primary student on public education. In Iran the figure is $156 per student per year, in India $64, in Laos $30, and in Rwanda, $30.

6) An extra year of primary school boosts girls’ eventual wages by 10 to 20 percent. An extra year of secondary school: 15 to 25 percent.

Young girls in developing nations have not been given the attention they highly deserve in education. Yet they have the undeniable power to help uplift their communities out of poverty through education and the earning power it will generate. 

Through fashion, art, and socially responsible actions, we’ve designed a way to get involved. Le Dessein is a fashion line aimed at funding the education of underprivileged girls around the world by featuring their designs on our fashion. We then contribute 25% of our proceeds to the girls’ yearly school tuition.

The nature of our effort is not just monetary – our ultimate vision is to create independence and freedom through the empowerment of our girls. A critical component of this whole vision being self esteem – we were adamant on making sure that our girls would be intimately tied to the creation of the designs which would end up on garments. The success of their artistic journey through their participation and engagement would create a profound sense of OWNERSHIP, which is essential in affecting one’s self-esteem. Indeed, we wanted to demark ourselves from the traditional form of aid towards developing countries, which has consisted mainly of charity, and instead have “ownership” be the driving factor in maintaining this self-sustaining endeavor.

Creating an impact in these young girls’ lives will take collective effort from various committed parties. Inculcating the notion of “Ownership” though noble, can be an arduous task and required collaboration. And we’ve had the fortune and pleasure of being aligned with the More Than Me Foundation – “The More Than Me Foundation is on a mission to make sure education and opportunity, not exploitation and poverty, define the lives of the most vulnerable girls from the West Point Slum of Liberia.” Its motto is: “When she graduates, she will decide what comes next for her life.”

Indeed, for our girls, this is about reclaiming and redefining their own sense of self. For far too long, girls and women from the developing world have been subjected to a strongly patriarchal society – a society where their “value” was unilaterally decided by men – So “Ownership” to us is simply the final destination defined by an effort that consists of arming our girls and presenting them with opportunities susceptible to make this journey a worthy one.

Our fashion linehiis elegant and sophisticated and aims at serving a market that for too long has had to sacrifice quality and design for purpose and mission.

Learn more about Le Dessein. 

ERIC COLY

@Le_Dessein

Eric is the founder and CEO of Le Dessien. Eric grew up in Dakar, Senegal, where he was influenced by his mother's passion, drive, and fashion sense at a young age. His mother would eventually inspire him to start Le Dessein. He attended UCLA Business School and began his career in investment banking.