To Shoebox Or Not To Shoebox?

I have to admit, seeing as it’s already collection week, writing this article kind of made me feel like the person who starts making clucking noises just as you’re about to bite into your delicious fried chicken leg. If you already made a shoebox, please ignore me. If you are eating chicken, enjoy. Merry Christmas to all.

Anyway, a friend recently asked me to look into the ethics of Christmas shoeboxes, which is why I’m writing this. If you don’t know what a Christmas shoebox is, get outta heeeahh. Just kidding. I will fill you in (a full paragraph past the introduction- how rude). Christmas shoeboxes belong to a Samaritan’s Purse initiative called “Operation Christmas Child” and they are rather popular among evangelical Christians. By that, I mean it is not unheard of for a parishioner to actually squeal with glee in the sanctuary upon glimpsing that the box templates have arrived. Anyway. Every fall, millions of flat cardboard thingies are distributed to participating Canadian churches across Canada, the United States and other developed nations throughout the world. They look kind of like this:

I was going to colour it red and green but my stupid laptop, with its recently replaced hardrive, was going to make me pay for a paint app download. The nerve! I’m grumpy.

To the spatially and/or mathematically challenged (aka me), they initially resemble something like a one-dimensional, festive, portly robot. Then you fold them up and the magic of Christmas happens. They become THIS:

Once they have been folded up to assume their rightful forms, folks participating take them home and fill the shoeboxes with various store-bought items such as toothpaste, soap, toys and school supplies. The boxes are then collected and sent overseas to children in developing countries as a Christmas gift.

These boxes have nostalgic significance for me, as I’m sure they do for many other evangelical families. I recall many a 1990s November afternoon spent at the dollar store, poking around for interesting items to put inside (we will use the term ‘interesting’ rather liberally in this case… I still feel sorry for the kids that got my gifts, being that they had been assembled by a small, bespectacled bookworm who thought that HB pencils and Hilroy notebooks were too cool even for school). As I walked my shoebox up to the collection point in the foyer every year, I enjoyed a sense that I was taking part in something special. But is the warm little buzz we get from participating in this initiative year after year enough to justify its continued existence? I’m not sure anymore.

As an adult, this whole shoebox thing has begun to tickle my brains a little. I did quite a bit of research this week on the subject and I have my own opinions, but rather than dictate what I think other people should do, I thought I would frame this article around some questions.

Does Operation Christmas Child Reflect The Values I Believe In?

By its own estimate, Samaritan’s purse has distributed over 100 million shoeboxes since its inception. In my experience, these shoeboxes tend to be filled with mass-produced items, primarily purchased from the dollar store or large chains such as Wal-Mart and Superstore. That is a heck of a lot of cheap product! Besides the obvious question of labour standards and undercutting local artisans, other consumption issues abound. Gifts eventually wear out– especially consumables like soap and toothpaste. Beyond that, it takes a lot of volunteer time and energy, not to mention carbon emissions, to manufacture that much cardboard, inspect the contents of that many packages and ship that many boxes overseas. Samaritan’s Purse has a variety of initiatives on the go, and many of them are considerably more sustainable, such as their clean water project. What kind of real, lasting changes could we effect if all of us were to redirect the money we were going to spend on a shoebox?

Does It Align With Foreign Aid Best Practices?

I’m pretty sure nobody asked for these boxes, and that may be reason enough not to give them. Operation Christmas Child has been around since 1990 and its strategic model has remained basically static. Meanwhile, aid theory has evolved a lot over the last several decades and many aid organizations today are recognizing that it is the local community- not NGOs- who should be identifying the issues and coming up with the solutions, and the role of the ‘aid’ organization should simply be to help localities carry out those solutions in the form of consultation, financial support, infrastructure support, and so on. It seems problematic for a North American organization to simply decide that a shoebox full of soap, toothpaste and toys is the best way to assist a child in poverty, and then enlist the privileged people of the world to purchase all the product and ship it off.
Is It Culturally Appropriate?

According to its website, last year Samaritan’s Purse distributed shoeboxes (among other countries) to Sierra Leone, Guinea Bissau, Iraq and Senegal– all majority-Muslim countries. How is a box labeled ‘Christmas Child’ likely to be received in those regions? I’m not really sure. It is noteworthy that in the NGO world, Samaritan’s Purse is considered a proselytizing organization. In fact, the shoeboxes themselves are often accompanied with religious literature. This may or may not be problematic for you, depending on your own personal beliefs.

A Final Question

My favourite cultural critic and all-around weirdo, Slavoj Zizek, makes an interesting argument about TOMS shoes. We’ll get to that and what it has to do with shoeboxes,* but first, let’s get you picturing this raving Marxist lunatic properly.

wait for it…

There it is.

one more, okay? don’t be scared.

Okay. Zizek asserts that the product’s “One for One” model presents consumers with a false ‘absolution’ for the ‘sin’ of excess. When we buy them, we relieve ourselves of our consumer guilt for a time by having ‘helped someone in need’ and feel free to continue living an excessive lifestyle. We may also feel excused from the harder task of participating in more unwieldy grassroots initiatives that would serve to truly counteract global inequality. I wonder– can a parallel be drawn here? Do I fill a shoebox because I truly believe it will translate into lasting social justice, or is it just something nice to do with my family during the holiday season?
Cluck, cluck, cluck…

Just kidding. Please still be my friend.

* other than the fact that they are shoes and therefore belong in shoeboxes.

Links:

http://www.samaritanspurse.ca/rss/operation-christmas-child/resources/about-this-project.aspx#.VkVqJmRViko

http://www.samaritanspurse.ca/media/342589/Fact-Sheet-2015.pdf

http://www.theguardian.com/society/2002/dec/18/guardiansocietysupplement7  

https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/ebola-crisis-sheds-light-on-controversial-samaritans-purse/2014/08/20/0b9d670a-27b5-11e4-86ca-6f03cbd15c1a_story.html – 

Resources:

Corbett, Steve. When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty  without Hurting the Poor… and Yourself. Moody, 2014. http://www.amazon.ca/When-Helping-Hurts-Alleviate-Yourself/dp/0802409989

Thrifting.

I beheld a most macabre thing while driving down Fairmount last week.

A most macabre thing, indeed.

It was a wooden guillotine. Small, but not so small as to be rendered un-threatening. In fact, I was getting little shivers looking at it. What was it doing there, abandoned in a parking lot outside Shoppers Drug Mart? As I drove away into the dusk, my mind began forming origin theories, newspaper headline style:

High School Student Channels Spirit of Paris Geller, Puts Unheard-of Amounts of Time into Constructing Near Life-size Guillotine for French Revolution Presentation, Abandons Project near Dumpster Following Soul-Crushing Grade of B Minus

Oompa Loompas Conducting Public Executions Following Infamous Halloween Chocolate Snatchings of 2015

A Really Weird Carpenter Lives in This Neighbourhood

Regardless of where it had come from, I decided that it would be mine. I enjoy all kinds of thrifting, but the best kind of thrifting is accidental drive-by thrifting! Plus Bobby always loves it when I bring home things that we have no use for (yet… mwahahaha). There was a teeny moral dilemma in that the structure had been left in close proximity to the Catholic Charities bin, meaning it was probably intended for donation and and even though thunderstorm season is over in Calgary, I was a little wary of being struck by lightning.

I decided to give it a week and see if it was still there (okay, I forgot about it, but I got really excited when I accidentally drove past it again a week later).

Indeed, Gentle Reader, there yet stood the wooden death machine, looking appropriately weathered and menacing, waiting placidly as if for me. I greeted it as I approached.

“Hello, old friend. How about a trip to my front lawn for Halloween? You’re going to look so… special.”

Luckily, no pedestrians were witness to this monologue because they would probably have turned around with their children and started fleeing in the opposite direction.

I walked around to the front to get a better angle so I could take a picture and post it all smug-like on Facebook, complete with a moody Hipstamatic wash.

That’s when I saw that monstrous machination for what it really was…

The horror! The horror!

I was gobsmacked. By that, I mean I literally had an involuntary hand-to-mouth physiological reaction to my surprise. Then I started giggling nervously like a deranged Edgar Allan Poe character.

After I finished giggling, I went into a sort of daze, still hazy from the shock of having nearly loaded a municipal parking sign into the back of my vehicle. I stared at it a while longer and then, sensing that I would be wanting a physical record of this event for later, reached my arms up slowly and snapped a picture. Then I looked down at Beatrice, who was basically doing the 18-month-old version of this:

Just give me my arrowroot cookie and let’s get out of here before my friends see me

What, you may ask, is the point of all this? I really have no idea except, well, it’s a guillotine, and it’s Halloween, and I couldn’t not write about a guillotine on Halloween.*

Seriously though, I found a lot of great stuff at the thrift store over the past few months while I was neglecting this blog, and I will be sharing them with you in subsequent posts. Surprisingly, I only mistook the essential identity of a few of them before taking them home. Until then, Gentle Reader.

Until then.

*This paragraph is starting to read like a bad Dr. Seuss book.

Toughies.

Finding ethical clothing is easy… if you’re looking for sage green organic cotton harem pants. If you’re looking for something to wear to the community pool,* you might need to spend a little more time cruising those interwebby waves.

I thought I’d put together a little guide to those harder-to-find socially responsible choices.

1. Socks and underwear

PACT Organic is Fair Trade certified, with surprisingly diverse pattern and colour options. Their prices are comparable to what you might find at the Gap or Levi, but they have good sales. Plus, PACT offers up to $30 off your purchase for making a referral to your friends, so you could be sneaky and ‘refer’ a bunch of people on a mass order (you’d also save on shipping, since it is really costly on this site for some reason). They also offer baby basics! If you’re looking for lingerie, Hanky Panky is a fairly affordable and super comfortable made-in-the-USA option. At a higher price point, beautiful Brook There or the Vancouver-based You and Her have some really special pieces.

2. Swimwear

You are likely already familiar with handmade retailer Etsy, which is where I ordered this Ontario-made sweetie for my chubby little turducken of a baby, and I love these bandeau-style Tankinis from Candystrand. If you’d like to support Canadian-based boutique swimwear, a friend recently introduced me to Nettle’s Tale— appropriate, seeing as the designer’s friends served as her style muses. From sporty Kaycee to vintage-inspired Carli, the heart-gladdening styles reflect unique personalities and lifestyles. Buying swimwear online is daunting, I know, but grab your best-fitting bra (sport or underwire, depending on the style of swimsuit you’re ordering) and a fabric measuring tape and utilize those sizing charts. CARPE DIEM!

 

3. Activewear

Yoga pants. You’ve seen them everywhere. You’ve seen them in a lot of places you probably wish you hadn’t seen them.

I thought I’d have a look for them in a North American factory, now that certain CEOs think it’s dandy for kids to sew things all day instead of go to school.  Oh, by the way, I’m not exaggerating. Read the article and be horrified. I was going to paste a GIF of Jim Carrey looking horrified, but my conscience wouldn’t allow my sense of humour to emerge.

Frankly, between his suggestion that women’s thighs shouldn’t touch together and blaming breast cancer rates on the entry of ‘Power Women‘ into the workforce, I’ve pretty much had it up to here with the arrogant crap he’s pulled. So, as Chip Wilson channels his inner legendary literary A-hole, I’ll be busy recommending a great list of alternative (and ethically sourced) workout clothing. Thanks to another friend for passing this one on to me.

So, yeah. Apparently the day Lululemon outsourced its (allegedly) chafey, (allegedly) see-through pants to China wasn’t the end of the world after all! Did you hear that, Mister Wilson? WOMEN CAN STILL GO TO THE GYM. WITH THEIR THIGHS TOUCHING AND EVERYTHING. THAT’S RIGHT.

 

4. Athletic shoes

“We’re sorry, your search for social responsibility returned no results.” Haha. Story of my life.

When approaching athletic shoes, one must either go barefoot or redefine the term ethical somewhat. The manufacture of running shoes is problematic, firstly because of the large number of outsourced components that comprise an athletic shoe, and secondly due to the large ecological footprint of the petroleum-based synthetics that typically go into their design. For whatever reason, barefoot-style running shoes seem to be ahead of the sustainability game. Ecouterre has posted a handy list of their recommended brands. If you need a traditional running shoe, New Balance is partially domestically sourced, but not solely (no pun intended. Okay, pun intended). Brooks used to offer an eco-friendly design in its Green Silence model, but it has since discontinued the offering with no apparent replacement.

 

7. Bedding

I assumed this one would be a lot harder than it turned out to be. Ethical bedding is actually readily available, so I’m just providing a light survey here.

Fairly paid artisans in India are crafting these splendid patchwork quilts, pieced together from salvaged fabric. I realize the concept of a rag blanket** sounds rough, but the execution is delightful, as you can see:

Sex trafficking is one of those social issues that has saturated our collective consciousness so deeply, it’s easy to repress (and ignore) what we’ve learned about its horrors. Sari Bari has not forgotten, and it is offering at-risk women an artisanal haven.

Basics like sheets, pillowcases and duvet covers are available at Glo Organic, whose fair trade certified organic cotton products are sewn in the USA.

________

Are you having trouble tracking down an ethical alternative to a product you need or want? Let me know in the comments section.

 

 

*legally and without making anyone cry and without having to peruse the bathing suit section of Value Village because, well, yuck.

**And really, aren’t all quilts technically rag blankets? I’ve literally seen rags for sale at Michaels for this very purpose. p.s. I do not make frequent use of the word literally; no, I do not.

Merry Influenza.

I took a longer-than-expected holiday hiatus due to two consecutive stomach bugs. The right side of my neck remains mildly swollen, like a halfhearted water balloon. Even though the reading and writing of text still render my head throbby, I wanted to share from a book I received from my husband for Christmas. Yes, I love you this dearly. It’s true.

Perhaps somewhere in the subterranean chambers of your life you have heard the call to deeper, fuller living. You have become weary of frothy experiences and shallow teaching. Every now and then you have caught glimpses, hints of something more than you have known. Inwardly you long to launch out into the deep.*

I think this is the reason I started writing. There’s this inner longing that keeps me awake at night, a search for greater depths. I’m tired of going to the mall. I’m tired of bagging up endless belongings that no longer matter to me. I’m tired of seeking material satisfaction. It makes me weary. It is a path of suffering, the suffering of others and my own, and my feet yearn for a different one; the path of justice, the path of mercy.

*Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline. New York: HarperCollins, 1978.

The little peplum that changed everything.

I’ve been on a quest to clothe myself ethically for about a year now. This has been a maddening, exhilarating, guilt-inducing, high-producing, damn frustrating yet ultimately rewarding experience. Kind of like a toned-down version of motherhood, minus the unconditional love and endless puke.

Having a baby has seriously weakened my consumer’s resolve as I struggle to locate ethically-sourced clothes for my little girl. When my sister-in-law texted me the other day to ask where I shop for kids’ clothes, a HOT KNIFE OF SEETHING GUILT RENT MY SOUL because I must confess, I haven’t been trying too hard in this area. Oh, I do the token walk-through down the baby section of the thrift store, but if nothing piques my interest, I’m back in the car, driving to H&M before you can say “greenwash!” In a pathetic attempt at preserving itself, my conscience has provided me with a series of cop-outs that I’ve been using to justify all my non-ethical purchases of children’s apparel since April:

But it’s not for me! As any idiot will be able to tell you, the fact that the clothes will be covering a smaller body than mine negates the fact that they were made in a sweatshop!

But they grow out of everything so fast! B is on the 98th percentile for weight, which makes these clothes 98 per cent ethical!

But it’s seasonal! Who can think about the environmental, social or economic ramifications of this garment when the clarion tones of Andy Williams are currently buttering up my little eardrums?

But it’s sooooo cute! This one brings me to the anecdote that inspired this blog in the first place. I was walking through Target to find something for B’s Halloween costume (see excuse no. 3) and revelling smugly in the glow of being a savvy consumer. Look at all these sheep, lining up at the till with their hands full of crap they’ll never– OOOOH! 

My heart stopped along with my feet:

 

Behold the glorious combination of everything I love! Navy! Jersey! Ruffles! Bulldog! I had it in my hands before my brain had time to register the sight. Then I made like Macbeth and figured well, I’m knees-deep in it now, might as well buy it in 2T. Oh, and I also suddenly need this turquoise baby Christmas sweater.

I walked the three pieces of contraband to the checkout counter, produced my debit card and punched in my numbers while scanning the clerk’s face for evidence of judgment because you know, it’s not every day a Target employee sees someone buying something at Target. She broke her eye contact with the ceiling exactly long enough to give me my receipt and I ran out of there like the flames of hades were lapping at my heels.

The Forbidden Garments burned a hole in my living room floor for about 24 hours and then I returned them. And do you want to know what the clerk said when I passed the first shirt back to her?

“You’re returning this? But it’s soooo cute!”

Yep. Excuse number four, ripe for the picking. Every bodily fibre was straining to pluck that peplum right out of her hand and say, “April Fools!” But for the fact that a) my conscience was collapsing in on itself and b) it was not April, I probably would have. But something inside me said I’d feel better without these things, and as I left the store, I felt the iron fist of consumer psychology loosen its grip on me:

 

 

Anyway, with the apparent demise of Fashioning Change, it’s up to me to face my cognitive dissonance head-on and find viable alternatives to the clothes I covet. Here’s my first win:

As you can see, it is conspicuously bulldog-bereft, but this pleated empire tunic from Mini Mioche is made in Canada from organic cotton and therefore makes my heart happy. If you’d like me to find an ethical alternative to something you’re after, let me know in the comments section.