Thursday, May 9, 2013

Where the similarities end...

Today I was startled by this picture of friends and family desperately searching for their loved ones at Rana Plaza:


I felt like I had seen it somewhere before and then I remembered 911. I remembered all the photos, taped to anything and everything all over NYC in the aftermath of the tragedy. All those photos are now part of the museum at Ground Zero. I saw them myself on a very emotional trip I took to NYC a few years ago. It was life-changing experience, to put faces to the the huge list of names. The death toll from Rana Plaza has now surpassed 900. They died in much the same way that the victims of 911 did. Thousands of tons of concrete and metal in a twisted pile of death.  


We started a war over 911. We took vengeance for what was done to our people. We hold the victims up as heros and indeed they truly are. I wonder what will happen in Bangladesh.  Will the dead be honored by a million dollar memorial?  Or will another flimsy building be put back in its place to turn out more clothing for WalMart, Target, Old Navy, Gap......too many to name...



Ground Zero



Rana Plaza


When I started this project I had no idea how horrific this journey would be.  It is overwhelming; the photos, the faces, the broken bodies, broken hearts, broken lives.  I feel so helpless.  This whole project is such a lame attempt to help but at least it is something I can do.  Maybe enough people will be touched by this tragedy and start to make some real changes.  We are to blame for this.  We are the consumer driven economy that has led to greed which led to desperation and wasted lives.  All this so we can look good.  I just can't reconcile it in my head.




The Burn Pile

Last night I completed the task of going through my entire wardrobe.  The burn pile is massive.  So far all I have left in my closet are items I bought fair trade or from small markets in Thailand and Bali.  I have not decided yet whether or not those will stay in the closet.  I am grappling with my ethics pretty intensely.  On one hand, at least I bought the items in the country they were made but on the other hand, I have no way of knowing the conditions under which they were made.  For now they will stay in the closet.


In all there are about 75 pounds of clothing on the burn pile. I decided that all my undergarments had to go. I have 1 pair of socks that I bought locally that I held on to but I will be going to the shop and asking them about their sources. It is fortunate for me that I decided to do this in the Spring or else I would be freezing my ass off. No underwear, no socks, no bras, no undershirts. I am free and loose! I am not sure where I will procure these items in the future but at least it's not 30 degrees outside!  Also gone are all of my coats and jackets. I am down to my hand made crochet ponchos that I make for fun. However, they got me started thinking about the yarn industry. I bought all that yarn at Joann Fabric so their fate is still uncertain.

It is amazing the thoughts that go through your head when you are touching and evaluating every item of clothing you own. All that I have left is hanging in my closet. My large dresser is completely empty. My first thought was how much less laundry I will have to fold. Then as I looked at the remaining items I realized that almost everything I love most is still in my closet. These are the items I paid serious money for at Fair Trade shops or from local markets. But I realized that I hardly ever wear any of it. I save these items for concerts or other events where I will be around people. I don't ever just wear them for myself. Next I went through my laundry bin and pulled out everything that is mine. I noticed 2 items that I will be keeping and I immediately separated them from the other laundry. My thought was that I should wash them on delicate because they need to last for a really long time. I have never used the delicate cycle in my life.

And while I was doing all this another 8 people died in another fire in Bangladesh. The death toll from the collapse at Rana Plaza is over 900.


By Rosemary Feurer |   



http://www.ibtimes.com/building-collapse-dhaka-bangladesh-kills-over-80-scores-injured-many-others-feared-trapped-debris#

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Victim 1: My Death Dress



This dress is my Death Dress.  I bought it they day my Mother died to wear to her funeral.  It seemed like an appropriate place to start this journey.  My Mom was a treasure to this world.  She never had a bad thing to say about anyone.  Her smile was huge and her heart was endless.  She left this earth much too soon and I will never get over it.  I miss her every day and every time I wear this beautiful dress I think of her and give her a special twirl.  She would have loved the ruffles and the colors.  It looks absolutely fabulous on me, at any weight.  I will miss it very much.




I purchased this dress at Target.  All that I know about it is what is on this tag.  I was able to dig up this investigative report on the factories that Target uses in China. The report names Target, GAP, American Eagle Outfitters, J.Crew and Talbots and is titled, "Excessive Overtime, Student Workers, and Exploitative Wage Systems", November 30, 2011 by China Labor Watch


"CLW investigators uncovered between twenty and thirty student workers currently employed at the Ningbo factory. A majority of them work in the boxing and assembly workshops. The youngest student worker was found to be 16 years old (born in February, 1995), and had only just graduated from middle school. The oldest of the student workers was 21 years old. He told investigators he will begin his sophomore year of college in the fall. The parents of these student workers were also working at the factory and were the ones that had originally gotten their children the job. Student workers work the same amount of hours and have the same responsibilities as adult employees. However, they receive a significantly lower salary. Students are paid 45 RMB (US $7) for an eight hour shift or 6 RMB per hour (US $0.94). Student workers receive an hourly overtime wage of 6.6 RMB (US $1). On average, student workers are required to work between 3 and 4 hours of overtime per day. Student are required to work on Saturdays and Sundays. The factory does not require student workers to sign a labor contract and does not offer them any social insurance 10 benefits. These student workers told investigators they are often left exhausted by the amount of hours they work."

"Workers at the Ningbo Hesheng factory only earn 45 RMB (US $7) for every 8 hours of work or 5.6 RMB per hour (US $.87) Workers get paid an additional 6.6 RMB (US $1) per hour during overtime hours. Therefore, the investigators concluded that a worker at the Hesheng factory makes less than the township hourly minimum wage."



That youngest student worker is the same age as my son, born in the same year. My son spends most of his time playing video games, playing his guitar and riding his skateboard.  He has no idea what the real world is all about because he doesn't have to yet.  He is a child, doing childish things.  But these children in China already know all about what real life has to offer them.  I just had a conversation with my son today about how he is has everything going for him.  He is American, white, male, smart, good looking and personable.  The entire world is his.  He has no idea that other kids his age on the other side of the planet have no choices, no options, no hope for much more than long grueling days at a sewing machine, or loading boxes, for less than the township hourly minimum wage.

And so I dedicate my Death Dress to these kids in China and I thank them from the bottom of my heart for making me such a beautiful dress to wear on the most painful day of my life. 






Slaves to Fashion


I could have chosen a more horrific image to begin this story, but there is just something about this girl's face that I simply cannot look away from.  Here, caught on film, is her rescue from a gruesome end, and yet her look is resigned.  

It seems to say, "oh well, another day in hell, what is the difference?".

I hope that whoever is reading this know's about this picture, where it was taken, what happened that day at Rana Plaza in Bangladesh. I hope we have at least come that far.  But it is a strong possibility that many Americans are not aware that over 800 (and counting) ordinary people went to work one day and died, all at once.  The story is so horrific that it is hard to process.  That outfit you are wearing today, that you bought somewhere you probably forgot by now, might have been made by this girl's hands, or the hands that lay, severed from their owner's bodies, in the stinking and rotting pile they are yet to be dug out of.

This is real stuff.  Real lives shattered.  Real suffering.  A couple weeks ago 3 people died in the Boston Marathon and it was a national tragedy.  Indeed it was. But what about all those people on the other side of the world who are literally your slaves to fashion.  Your slaves and my slaves.

This blog will document my personal process of literally cleaning out my closet for the good of humanity.  One by one I will be examining every item of clothing I own, documenting where it was made and by whom.  Once this process is complete, everything that I own that was potentially made at the cost of human blood, will be burned in their honor.  I know it's really silly isn't it?  Why shouldn't I give them all away, why such waste?  My answer to that is simple; my wardrobe has defined me for my entire life.  Everything I wear I treasure.  I can tell you where I bought it and many stories about where I was and what I was doing when I wore it.  My history can be told through my clothing.  Just as these people's history is being told through my clothing.  It is the only thing I have to offer them.  This is my sacrifice, my honor to them.  May they rest in peace.