Below is a copy of an email sent to another CCSC volunteer from my year. Been out of Buffalo now for two days and it’s tough in a way I didn’t expect.
Hey Caitlin,
Sorry for throwing China in your face, but here’s a video I watched last night. China Blue follows a teen-aged girl who leaves her family to work in a jeans factory in the Guandong (sp??) province.
Yesterday my dad had an important phone call so my mom and I were banished from the entire house from like noon until 2. She took me to the mall and it was the most agonizing mall experience I’ve had since last year’s swimsuit hunt. She told me I needed to get a new outfit and she was prepared to buy me something. I asked if I could get something besides clothes (there was one of those sweeet water bottles with a filter inside that I was eyeing. Short answer. No. So I asked if I could pick stuff I actually needed like socks and underwear. You could always use more underwear. No. Had to get an outfit. I was just cognizant of the fact that I don’t really NEED any new clothes (plus my bags were already 16lbs over the limit so this seemed counter-productive), but I succumbed and started looking through the racks.
I flipped through items and glanced at each label. Made in China… No, I can’t do that to someone. Made in Vietnam. Certainly no better. Made in Honduras… wait, I read something, are labor laws better there? Made in Mexico. I think the labor laws are better there. Are they? Made in the Philippines, Indonesia, India, Pakistan. I was completely overloaded and half angry at Amy for making me think so much about this, half content with myself that I was thinking about this, half annoyed at my mom that she wasn’t thinking about this, and half frustrated with the stores and manufacturers that made it necessary for me to think about this. Yes, the turmoil inflated me to 2x my normal size. So I was full of two glorias worth of shopping anguish and I resigned myself to just get a bra. Okay, 14 bucks, made in mexico, a sports bra. I think this will appease my mom… But it’s not enough. Okay, now get some clothes. You need something grown up and some jeans.
I forgot about jeans. I find a casual dress I really like and peruse the jeans. Yes, the dress is made in the US! Jeans, I’m not so lucky. It doesn’t matter bc either everyone is my size and has already purchased all the jeans, or my size doesn’t exist anymore, unless I like to look like I met the unfortunate side of an 18-wheeler. I don’t mind beaten up jeans. I just like to earn the holes in em instead of buying them with pre-fabbed handicaps. I’m at the strange point in my life and body shape where I can’t handle the pieces of flair on every pair of juniors jeans, but am not cool enough to fit into women’s jeans properly. I’ll commence the holy grail search another day. Okay, a bra and a dress. good enough? I get a reluctant yes. And I am happy, for a moment. I look at the dress, which my mom says looks like the same dress I always buy. It’s true. I have a dress uniform. Black and/or white. And occasionally, I allow one burst of color. Dresses with pockets get extra points and the pattern must either be floral or look like some kind of modern art. This dress gets points on every category on my checklist. But when I look at it I think, I don’t need this. And I have to put it back. I barter with my mom. I’d gotten her to agree to the dress, the water bottle and the bra. And I ended up just taking the bra. I told her, bashfully, I couldn’t buy these things and not see the person who had to suffer for it. I felt like a tool when I said it, but it was the truth. I know she just wanted to do something nice (and a little bit that she doesn’t completely like my wardrobe) so we agreed on something better. I got the bra and she’d buy me real good food.
About two hours, one jar of natural peanut butter, 2 loaves of hfcs-free bread, and four boxes of natural cereal and snack food later, we were home. So, is this what simple living is like outside of intentional community? A kinda of tug-of-war with “normal life”? I hope not, because I am exhausted and surprisingly lonely. I toss my purse onto my bed and take a look at my purchase. Hmmm 14 dollars. That’s a jar of honey, a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, and some scallions. I’ll leave the tags on in case I change my mind before we leave.
8/13/10
