I've started looking at the labels on my clothes over the last few days, to see where they are made. My pajama bottoms were sewn in Bangladesh, my T-Shirt in Turkey, my pants in Honduras, and the shirt I have on right now, Vietnam. What are the lives of the people who make my clothes like? I had a roommate once who would only buy clothes at thrift stores and vintage boutiques because she didn't want to contribute her money to a system that exploited impoverished workers. Her family was from Jamaica, so she knew something about being poor, about the disparity of power. Big corporations always say that they are improving the lives of their workers, giving them a better standard of living, and I always always believe everything the big corporations tell me. Besides, as I used to tell my first husband the free market economist, if there is going to be freedom for corporations to manufacture and sell their goods internationally, then there should also be a labor market where workers can move freely between countries looking for the best jobs. Otherwise, it ain't no free market.
I'm wondering if I really have the courage to live out my convictions and not contribute my money to a system I think is inherently flawed. I try to do that with food, and see how hard it is, and my busy life makes me search for convenience. So, seems the obvious, answer, seek out a less busy life. Yes, indeed. I'm working on it. Busily.
I know. I know. Guess we will just have to make inroads where we can. Budgets, alas, dictact something our conscience might disagree with.
Posted by: Cowtown Pattie | 2004.07.29 at 19:20