Clothing is big business. The garment industry directly and indirectly employs over 300 million people worldwide, and high street fashion has turned a handful of men into billionaires, knocking oligarchs and royalty off the top of the Forbes Rich List. It’s going to take a lot of consumer pressure to change the industry when the people at the top have such a vested interest in the status quo, but for the survival and safety of so many others, we have to try our hardest.
Fashion Revolution’s Who Made My Clothes? campaign is a simple and non-threatening way to become an activist - snap a picture of your favourite high street garment with the label showing, and post it on social media, tagging the brand and using the hashtag #whomademyclothes. As the campaign has grown year on year, brands are gradually becoming more transparent, disclosing some (but not yet all) of their suppliers. This transparency is important; it makes it harder for brands to deny responsibility if there is an accident at the factory or workers report mistreatment, while making it easier for auditors or NGOs to link bad practice with specific brands. Seeing replies from the more reputable and ethical brands (usually showing garment workers holding a sign reading “I Made Your Clothes”) helps to remind all of us that there are humans, not machines, making every piece of clothing we buy.
Earlier this year I gave a talk to a conference of public health registrars about the impact of the garment industry on global public health. I had read out a lot of statistics, big numbers and generalisations and I wanted to bring home the reality of the life of a garment worker to my audience. The next two paragraphs are from my talk, I hope they are a good indicator of why this campaign is so important.
The documentaries “China Blue” and “The True Cost” both follow a garment worker and tell her story. While 23-year-old Shima’s story is shocking, the mundane yet punishing schedule that makes up the working life of 16-year-old Jasmine seems equally unimaginable to those of us used to the European Working Time Directive. Jasmine has left her rural home for the Lifeng factory in Canton. Her working day starts at 8am and ends at 7pm… and then the compulsory overtime begins. This can last until 2 or 3am, and then it’s back to the dormitory she shares with eleven other girls. This is also where they eat their meals, as the factory does not have a canteen. It does deduct room and board from its workers, but don’t worry, each dorm room has its own cold tap! Best not to drink too much water though, as only two bathroom breaks are permitted per shift. Workers at the Lifeng factory work seven days a week, often for months at a time to fulfill overseas orders. To keep herself awake during 18 hour shifts, Jasmine and her friends clip their eyelids open with clothes pegs. Supervisors are issued with long screwdrivers to poke workers who look like they are falling asleep. The factory owner is incensed at the insinuation that he treats his workers harshly - “we give them a free snack at midnight!” He huffs indignantly. When Jasmine goes to collect her first paycheck, several weeks late, she discovers it is being kept as a “deposit”, to deter her from leaving. As the factory shuts down temporarily for New Year, many of the workers head home to see their families, but not Jasmine - she cannot afford the train fare.
Shima lives in Bangladesh and works in a garment factory in Dhaka. Along with some of her coworkers, she formed a union and brought a list of demands to the factory owners. Later that day, she and her fellow organisers were beaten up by men hired by her bosses at the factory. Shima has a young daughter, Nadia, but in the slum near the garment district, the only place Shima can afford to live, there is nowhere for Nadia to go to school. Shima makes the decision to take Nadia back to the village where she used to live. Surrounded by friends and relatives, Nadia can get an education and won’t be alone, but Shima will only be able to visit her once or twice a year. Shima hopes that her decision will mean a future for Nadia that doesn’t involve garment work, and she gives a tearful interview to camera, saying “there is no limit to the struggle of Bangladeshi workers… I believe these clothes are produced by our blood.”
Garment workers face worsening conditions as big brands cancel or refuse to pay for orders due to COVID-19, forcing factories to close. Many of these orders have already been made and even shipped, leaving factories in low-income countries out of pocket, as the factory owners pay the wages of the workers and for the fabric. Indulge me for a moment - scroll back up to the top of this blog post and read the first paragraph again. Furious? You should be! You can sign a petition urging brands to pay up here, or urge brands to pay their suppliers as soon as possible using the hashtag #PayUp. You can also use Fashion Revolution’s template letter to express your concern - just enter the name of the brand you want to contact and sign with your name and email, activism has never been easier!
I don’t buy clothes from the high street any more, but I still have plenty of clothes in my wardrobe from brands that I believe have questions to answer. I’ll be asking #whomademyclothes throughout the day on Twitter, and gently reminding brands not to forget to pay their suppliers for all that fast fashion they have ordered. Join me, and join the Fashion Revolution!
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