Farm Boy & The Illusion of “Care” through Consumption

Am I going to get canceled for talking shit about small business?

True or False: Culture and storytelling are privileges that come after not having to worry about food and shelter.

I have no pennies in my pocket when I was a child and yet I was naturally drawn to well-curated products behind the shopping window. Books weren't very accessible, and sometimes grandma ran out of her stories, so stories and culture manifested themselves through objects, beautiful objects like soft teddy bears, glamorous snowglobes, and Barbies dressed as Cinderella.

I would often step into a store, appreciating the cohesive aesthetics, pressing my palms against glass cabinet, browsing slowly through each item, and leaving without buying anything.

Certainly, I now have the resources to heal my inner child by purchasing the items I liked and wanted as a kid. But I am much more conscious about what lies behind my purchasing decisions. A few keywords: "waste," "greenhouse gases," "oil company," "big corp," "community," and "aid" (check out my last week's post on my 2024 shopping resolutions). I bet you more or less feel the same way.

A few days ago, I came across a New York-based brand and was immediately obsessed with its storytelling and how it seems to check every box. It is a store selling stuffed animal dolls (or should we say, "helping animals find their forever homes"?). They also offer tiny handmade outfits for the dolls, designed by independent artists, from head to toe: little straw hats, tiny blazers, dresses soft like cotton candy, knee-high socks, the cutest little shoes and handbags you can imagine (mostly limited editions). Each stuffed animal comes with its own background story written on a card. They are hand-wrapped with care in a soft handkerchief (which is also collectible), and gently placed in a box, which I assume is made of recycled materials. They are all handmade by women in developing countries. The website shows photos of these women holding the dolls with smiles, colorful fabrics placed right next to their dark eyes and brown skins. A few close shots of their wrinkled hands serve as a metaphor for "making" and "labor" that we often overlook. "Ethically made," the website proclaims. A doll with a whole set of outfits is priced a bit over $100, which seems reasonable considering they are handmade.

The entire storytelling process, from production to packaging, is very thoughtful and beautiful, yet it leaves me feeling bitter.

(Photo from Unsplash)

I find it hard to justify my bitterness towards those adorable stuffed animals. Browsing the website did't heal my inner child; quite the opposite, the narrative of "caring" it provides almost feels like a tickle at the back of my head, reminding me of what was "lacking" in my childhood.

But was it really a "lack" that made me uncomfortable?

I had a doll as a child, received on my birthday and absolutely cherished. I kept it throughout my childhood, cuddling it to sleep every night. I told all my secrets to the doll and dampened it with my tears many many times. It wasn't until I grew up, and somehow lost it in my teenage years, that I realized the doll was white. Looked nothing like me, He was a little white farm boy with blond hair and denim overalls.

Dolls we had in China around the early 2000s were always white, with the bluest eyes and blondest hair. Dolls, and even consumer goods for leisure, were generally a Western concept. They were mass-produced in Chinese factories, made with cheap fabrics and plastics, packed in bulk, and sent to stores, then handed to parents in a plastic wrap. The doll I owned didn't have a name, and I never gave it one because I didn’t know it was necessary. It didn’t come with a story, of course, but we created endless stories out of him. He was most likely not "ethically" made by today's standards, in an era when colonialism and capitalism get to define the word "ethic."

China experienced drastic economic growth in the late '90s and early 2000s. Factories were built one after another. Tons of opportunities were created, so people moved from the countryside to cities to labor in factories. Men worked hard, women worked even harder. The country took pride in its hard work and cheap labor. Workers were paid far less compared to their counterparts in the West, but significantly more than what they previously earned.

As we all know now, the working conditions weren't ideal (and have not yet become ideal to this day). But people had just gotten through the Great Chinese Famine and the Cultural Revolution. Work conditions were probably not their primary concern. They spent hours in the factory so they could put food on the table and send their girls to school, proudly.

One of these people, or perhaps a few of them, made my farm boy. It has no personality or personal stories, but I know who made it. The stories are created by me and those who share the same culture, the same pain, and the same joy.

Now, 15 years later, I'm browsing well-made dolls that are supposed to represent "care" or the imagination of care through Western design, realized through the hands of a woman in Nepal. They offer their time, their "cheap" labor, their patience, to create a beautifully curated experience for parents or kids who can afford to pay over $100 for a doll, so perhaps, they can bring food to their own children. Their care third children received are manifested through their hard labor.

Yes, it's the way the world works, and it's okay for me to feel uncomfortable.

It's not just "buying this doll to support women in Nepal so they don’t lose their jobs and so you can feel good about yourself." It's much more than that. We often witness a disconnection between product and workers. I’m not specifically talking about this brand, but in general, we don’t care if a product is handmade by a woman in Nepal or by a woman in Cambodia. As long as they are "women who need help," we can feel good and justified in our actions. We don’t care, and we don’t know if the worker is sewing a well-packaged, ethically-made Scandinavian design at their first shift and the next shift sewing $5 clothes for Shein. Usually, it's the salary and work benefits that really matter to workers. Do they truly care about who owns the means of their production? Moreover, do we really care about them and care for them?

Do we? In order to care for our child, we purchase well-designed, cotton candy-colored dolls made from 100% New Zealand cotton, complete with a cute story card attached. To care for the environment, we ensure the doll is made from organic materials and that the layers and layers of packaging materials are recyclable or recycled. To care for women in the Global South, we maker sure we use their labor (and somehow its is cheaper), putting photos of their beautiful smiles and hands on our websites. But do we truly care?

When it comes to brands that claim to be "ethical" and "sustainable," creating an image of connection through "caring" and "assisting" between consumers in the Global North and workers in the Global South through the act of purchasing and producing, under the lenses of "aid," "ethical", and "cultural," don't just accept the concept, think hard.

I'm not criticizing those who purchase these types of products or the brands that make them. I am personally a supporter, simply because we've seen worse out there.

However, our purchasing behavior should not be our sole expedience of connectivity. We don't just "experience" and "practice" being ethical solely through the money spent, a tag and a background story that comes with the product.

We must go beyond that.