Travel

We are picky about our clothes. At least some of us are. Be it formal or casual, people like to look their best apart from a few who are too lazy to dress up.

We peruse through the clothing racks, checking the size, the silhouette, the colour, and whether it suits the occasion it is required for but, how often do we think about the technology behind its production or the effort of the people involved? Almost never.

During the production of your clothes, the yarn undergoes a series of processes like shedding, picking and battening on a power loom. Operated by mechanical or electrical power, the power loom is what enables the fashion industry to properly function in a fast-paced environment to satisfy the ever-changing desires of the consumers.

Today, as fast fashion resides well in the public’s list of favourites on account of its accessibility and affordability favoured by millions of middle-income families around the world, a minor industry which was once the backbone of the fashion world has now been reduced to its skin and bones: *The handloom industry*.

The business that employed manual labour for fabric production was one of the most successful in the world until of course, the industrial revolution changed its course in the 19th century. To sum up the past, the power loom thrived because of its ability for rapid mass production and the handloom employees subsequently lost their livelihoods. The weavers and spinners were forced to take a step back and succumb to the ill effects of poverty in the aftermath of the machines’ success.

A part of the handloom industry, however, refused to back down. Even with its lost glory, the industry has continued to function, though the number of units has reduced drastically. Today, this activity exists only in a few nations, in developing ones such as India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka where it is a major means of income for rural livelihood. Nevertheless, the industry has neared its end as a consequence of inadequate funds and demand.

I wanted to explore the issue deeper, so I dug out some books, read the literature, and finally set out on a two-week journey to South India to study the problems in depth.

I visited two handloom villages in the state of Kerala where I received a warm welcome from over twenty weavers, most of them being female and over the age of fifty with no affiliation to modern technology. It was surprising to learn that some of them have not even seen a computer in their lifetime.

![A middle-aged woman operating the handloom in a factory in Kerala, India|1300x800](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1683760105/post/handweaving_woman_wzmruq.jpg "A skilled handloom weaver from Kerala, weaving beautiful fabrics for hours on end. The physical toll of working in the same position from 9-to-5 is unimaginable. From [thenewsminute.com](https://www.thenewsminute.com/article/once-admired-kerala-s-dying-handloom-tradition-badly-need-revival-76073).")

As I began to observe the art up close, the physical stress endured by the weavers from having to work in the same position from 9-to-5 became more visible. With their hands on the two handles and the legs on the paddle, the consistent to-and-fro movement of the loom has led them to have various body problems. It was saddening to hear that this was their primary takeaway from the job. If backache, arm and leg pain weren't enough, it had to be piled up with internal body issues such as asthma caused by the dust of the loom. I could see some of the weavers, particularly the elders struggling to keep up their continuous pace of movement.

This was just the tip of the iceberg. What followed was a long conversation that cemented the stereotypical image of those in power accountable for the welfare of these minority groups.

:::quote
“*People with families cannot survive on this. We are earning a livelihood and at the same time must ask others for money. I am receiving the wage weekly but for other expenses such as school uniform and travel, I must depend on other family members*”
:::

A weaver said, her words reflected the same angst and helplessness on her face.

Even with such hard labour, they are paid about 900 rupees per week. Roughly, that’s 9 pounds. Imagine working to your bones all week only to be faced with the disappointing economic reality. In the UK alone, [people spend on average about 20 pounds per week on clothing](https://www.statista.com/statistics/285586/clothing-and-footwear-weekly-uk-household-expenditure-by-age/). Thanks to fast fashion, global consumer spending on clothing [has now exceeded two trillion dollars and is predicted to rise even further](https://www.statista.com/forecasts/1161735/fashion-consumer-spending-forecast-in-the-world). It’s all well and good to have cheap clothes, but there are traditions and livelihoods that are being lost in real time because of the fast-fashion industry.

What’s even more depressing is that there is no consistency in the wages they receive. The government pays as and when they prefer. [According to the Ministry of Textiles](https://www.indiabudget.gov.in/doc/eb/sbe98.pdf), 2000 million rupees have been allotted for handloom development and yet *‘the poor get poorer’*. Almost 100,000 rupees is owed by the government to each weaver and they have already given up any hope of ever receiving it.

By mere logic, it can be deduced that the materialistic desires of the so-called guardians who have taken an oath to protect the needy serve as the reason behind their state of peril. Corruption in these organisations is an already established fact that I was also able to hear directly from one of the secretaries of the handloom cooperative societies.

This combined with the piling financial debts is what drives the weavers to the worst scenario. Many weavers take their own lives instead of suffering the financial shackles imposed on them by the state. [Spending 30,000 million rupees on the world’s tallest statue]( https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/india/interesting-facts-about-the-statue-of-unity/cost-to-build-the-statue/slideshow/95849724.cms ) and [not a penny to save those 1500 lives over three years](https://www.sabrangindia.in/article/shock-shame-50-weavers-take-their-lives-modis-constituency-varanasi) cannot exactly be termed economic growth.

My experience in the village hit me deep with the realisation that regardless of how progressive the nation is, there will always be a part of the society bound to suffer, weighed down by the outcome of corporate greed and incompetent decisions by the political and bureaucratic authorities.

It doesn’t end here. Next to the government, it is the private shops and companies benefitting at the expense of the handloom industry’s reputation by selling counterfeit products to those who cannot differentiate between the both. If sweatshops, pollution and animal cruelty weren’t performing a good enough job of defamation, these downtrodden tactics would definitely have the fashion industry wearing the cone of shame.

I consider myself lucky enough to witness the result of the handlooming community’s hard labour – an exquisite piece of fabric that lies far ahead in terms of quality and craftsmanship that it is almost impossible to be beaten by any fast-fashion item at any given time. It is not that the Handloom cannot succeed, rather a lack of funds, a lack of strong marketing tactics, and a lack of technology keep pushing the industry to its doomsday.

![A handmade white and yellow Indian silk sari, folded|1500x1002](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1683760105/post/handweaving_sari_1_z8wuhu.jpg)

![A handmade white and yellow Indian silk sari, worn by a woman|1500x1002](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1683760105/post/handweaving_sari_2_solurj.jpg "The traditional silk sari is a quintessential garment of India; a testament to the dedication and skill of handloom weavers who pour their hearts and soul into crafting these beautiful textiles.")

It is not going to be easy but this industry can be revived with the collective effort of the government and the public. As it is handmade, the products are expensive but they can be made more affordable if the government cuts down the cost of raw materials and guarantees a minimum wage for the weavers to attract more people to work, especially those living below the poverty line.

It may seem impractical to revert to old ways of manufacturing, and it is indeed, [but remember how staying indoors during the pandemic reduced greenhouse gasses drastically](https://www.imf.org/en/Blogs/Articles/2022/06/30/greenhouse-emissions-rise-to-record-erasing-drop-during-pandemic#:~:text=Emissions%20of%20carbon%20dioxide%20and,mobility%20and%20hampered%20economic%20activity.)? The Handloom sector can do the same to the fashion industry if it is allowed to carry out at least one-fifth of the global fabric production and this can relieve the fashion industry from being the second largest polluting industry in the world.

Handloom brands have such a low presence on digital media that it is very easy to miss them. Appealing to the demographics of millennials and Gen Z is the key if the sector wants to get back on its two feet, for which it is highly essential to embrace social media. Inviting their participation and promoting them with innovative content can highly improve the fanbase of these products.

All of these suggestions would be futile if the governments intend to keep ignoring the situation. Justice delayed is justice denied, which seems to be apt for this situation. The weavers can leave this profession and find a job elsewhere, but they refuse to do so, as handloom is not just a livelihood. It is a means to reflect their own traditions and culture, a bridge to connect with their celebrated past, a medium to relish the values associated and the beauty of a job well done. If you have handmade any object, you would be familiar with the priceless gratification you receive after the successful creation of a product. It is the same for them and they are determined to protect it at any cost. The least we can do is lend a hand and support them now as we will never fully realise the issue until it is our own culture that is threatened.

As we peruse through clothing racks, how often do we think about the technology behind their production or the effort of the people involved? Almost never.

Can the Handloom Industry Fight Back Against Fast Fashion?

I must admit, at risk of some well-deserved cries of “boomer”, that until recently I was of those types who hated “modern architecture”. It is a regrettable fact that our country has suffered at the hands of self-aggrandizing architects, let loose on our skylines. [Some 77% of Britons reported that they preferred classical architecture to contemporary designs](https://adamarchitecture.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/YouGov-survey_Oct09_resultsfollowup.pdf) and yet newer and ever more abstract designs are approved for erection across the country. How can it be that the public is so overwhelmingly against something which continues to happen and shows no signs of changing? I genuinely could not understand how we had strayed so far from the path set out for us in so many public buildings from previous centuries. I stared in disbelief at people who claimed to enjoy the steel and glass monstrosities that festooned our cities. Indeed, I even welled up at the thought of old buildings being bulldozed to make space or, the ultimate humiliation, an old building being irrevocably “modernized”, such as the *Royal Ontario Museum* or the *Bundeswehr Military History Museum* in Dresden.

![A photograph of The Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, Canada](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1664828664/post/architecture_ontario-min-min_nshlm3.webp "One of the buildings in question is the Royal Ontario Museum, with the original 20th-century facade and its crystal-like modern architectural growth. Source: [The Royal Ontario Museum](https://libeskind.com/work/royal-ontario-museum/)")

In particularly challenging circumstances, such as when X was replaced by Y and immediately collapsed,  I even began to wonder whether there was a deeper meaning behind what I perceived to be complete idiocy. Enter the smoky pub backroom that is [4chan](http://www.4chan.org/). Long threads complete with suitably monochrome and grainy *before*, and their accompanying garish *after* pictures demonstrating the ubiquitous decline in standards and appreciation for beauty. Eminent figures on the intellectual right feature a little less frequently, providing more proof, in a disembodied way that the West was in peril of losing its identity forever. This fear of loss is a powerful motivator, not that it requires much to provoke rage on the internet, and there was a palpable sense that the closing of an underutilised church would quickly lead to burning the Magna Carta and Sharia law.

Of course, the slow adaptation of our physical environment was the inevitable consequence of times and tastes changing, not a grand conspiracy to rob the West of its distinctive architectural heritage. However, when combined with the usual story of the construction being of poor quality, over-budget and delayed (double points if it’s at the taxpayer’s expense), it conveys the comforting thought that no, it’s not you, it’s the world.

It is easy to accept these thoughts, and those thoughts many others have written more effectively, on the subject of confirmation bias so I won’t go into it further here. Although, I’ve found that a far fewer number have written about unconfirming that bias. I have recently returned from a holiday to Italy, and I fully imagined the trip would be one long parade of “this is how it’s supposed to be” architecture. I was utterly convinced that the Italians had some of the finest architecture in the world, which was in no small part due to their reverence of classical and renaissance forms.

Alas, it was not to be. Having been fully immersed in the heady Italian mix of museums, mausoleums, masonry and mosaics, I can safely say I no longer believe the millenarian woes which afflict so many people on the right. It is not that I don’t find classical architecture beautiful anymore, if anything, the trip entrenched my love. It is that not every building is a masterpiece, which is a necessary fact for the argument that “old is objectively better”. Take for example, the *Altare della Patria* in Rome (I realise that this argument would be far stronger if the building were actually ancient, but for the sake of the article just pretend that it is). I wager that if you were to show most people on the street a picture of the building, they would recognise it with words such as “Classical”, “Roman”, “Greek” or words to that effect. Its real heritage as a 19th-century imitation isn’t an academic quibble, but the root of the issue.

![A photograph of the Altare della Patria in Rome](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1664828658/post/architecture_altare-min-min_fwh5we.webp "The *Altare della Patria* in Rome, a columned caricature of classical architecture.")

I think what really broke the illusion was gaudiness. It seemed that the building had identified a few key motifs of classical architecture and amplified them to ludicrous proportions. The massive Quadriga statues seemingly dwarf the building they sit on, only to be dwarfed themselves by the truly monstrous equestrian statue of Victor Emmanuel II. I didn’t feel inspired or impressed by the façade, nor did I think it was even a good imitation of the Forum that it supposedly replicates. If anything at all, looking up at it made me feel a little dizzy. It wasn’t until the evening that I thought back and was disquieted to remember that I had been so unimpressed. Worse yet, I had dinner that evening across from the Spanish Steps and once again felt the now familiar faintly apathetic feeling.

> It is not that I don’t find classical architecture beautiful anymore, if anything, the trip entrenched my love. It is that not every building is a masterpiece, which is a necessary fact for the argument that ‘old is objectively better’.

It was even later on, after I had returned to England that it dawned on me how fundamental this feeling was, and how incongruous it was with how I thought I felt about aesthetics in general. I didn’t quite hear glass shattering, or scales falling away, but perhaps the dim rays of a lightbulb flickered into view. Not all classical buildings were beautiful, just as today, many of the structures we throw up leave something to be desired visually. Equally, the cognitive dissonance of quietly being thankful that Augustus “found a city of bricks and left a city of marble”; whilst bemoaning the knocking down and remodelling of our own cities started to unravel my thoughts. Once the entrenchment of this long-held belief was uprooted, more obvious conclusions made themselves known: the survivorship bias of taking old buildings today as indicative of what the architectural landscape would have been, Poundbury being both schizophrenic and twee simultaneously, if I can find something like the Vittoria gaudy, is it any wonder there are people who view all classical styles with distaste?

I like to think that this one incidence of introspection unravelling decades of self-indoctrination appeals well to the Theroux’s, Ronson’s or Maddix’s of this world. After all, a common argument used in their defence against claims of banality, irreverence or improper distribution of the world’s limited bandwidth on social issues is that laughter dispels tyranny. While I agree that it isn’t a complete analogy (again, just pretend that it is for my sake) as I didn’t weep with mirth at the sight of the palace. But I think part of their style has been vindicated. It wasn’t a fundamental rebuttal with long sentences and a host of sources, nor a “definite” answer from “experts” who “agree” that you’re “totally wrong” headline in [*The Atlantic*](https://www.theatlantic.com/). All it took was a long stare at a literally palatial question mark for me to start questioning my own assumptions. Perhaps we would all be better off with a two-hundred-metre-tall cut-out of Louis saying “Are you sure?” in every city. Although, I pray that we bulldoze something postmodern to make space for it.

Our physical environment changing is the consequence of times and tastes changing, not a grand conspiracy to rob the West of its architectural heritage.

Learn to love modern architecture: it's not as bad as you think

*Who am I*? is the most fundamental question you will need to ask yourself if you want to be part of the narrative and not just be swallowed by it. We are born into relationships and move throughout our lives among many groups. Our cultural identity is part of our individuality.

I tend to avoid falling into categories that limit the individual. But what if you are asked on an official form to tick the box that defines your ethnicity? When I had the vaccine, I was asked to specify my ethnicity five minutes before my shot on one of these forms. As I was reading the list of categories I could subscribe to, White, Black, Black and White, Black and White Caribbean, Mixed, Mixed other; I couldn't help but feel that kind of undefinition that has paradoxically defined me all my life. I was born in Paraguay to a Venezuelan mother and a Spanish father. My brother was born in Brazil. I was two when we moved to Valencia, five when I landed in Antigua, eight by the time we arrived in Sofia, from there we moved to Bogotá and by the time I was thirteen, I was living in Caracas. I spent my teens in Asunción and my twenties in Madrid, where I have lived the longest. I was schooled in the French educational system, and my second language is English. That's my mix. So, I'm not quite sure where I fit in. Usually, I just put whatever seems easier. But what if, by doing that, I am allowing others to define me? Do we have to keep answering these questionnaires as if there were no other options? As if the reality in which we live were not broader and more complex? Do we have to keep putting ourselves into categories that do not reflect our reality? What if you have, like me, a multicultural identity?

Technically, I am white because of my skin colour, but my ethnic background is much broader. And although I don't seem mixed and have identified myself as white all my life, with all the privileges that being white entails, I am a white Latina. Because as white as my father is, my mother was mixed, my grandfather was black (born of a white mother and a black father), and my grandmother was mixed (from a white father and an indigenous mother). So, even if I pass as white, which I do, I cannot insert myself into this category without setting aside a part of my ancestry and the culture that I have inherited.

A whiteness that, by the way, varies from continent to continent. In South America, I am perceived as white European, which is the closest thing to a light-eyed blonde, the holy grail in terms of status. But as soon as I cross the Atlantic and set foot in Spain, my whiteness darkens, and I become a little more Latin than European. Part of me is also black, the corresponding percentage of my great-grandfather's line in Venezuela. But what counts as black? If by black we mean skin colour, I am not black; I am white with all the spectrum of colours that comes with being a white Latina. If by black we also understand having black ancestors among your family members, then I'm a little bit black. And if by black we mean cultural heritage, I am Venezuelan Caribbean.

So, am I black and white Caribbean? Not entirely, because that would exclude my indigenous ancestors who come from my maternal grandmother's side.

Then, "Mixed other"? Definitely mixed, but *other*? As opposed to what? Pure? Aren't we all a bit mixed? "Mixed other" implies that if I choose to include all who I belong to, I automatically fall into the box of *other*. And if I should not specify my ancestry, I am limited to a category that does not define me.

For as long as I can remember, I have tried to answer questions such as "where do you come from?" by synthesising *ad infinitum* the same litany of "half Spanish, half Venezuelan", trying not to cast any ancestor out. "But do you feel more this or that?" would fall a little further down the line, to which I often used to respond by submitting myself to the violence of narrowing your identity down to their need of fitting you in a box so they would feel more comfortable around you.

What does it mean to be in the category of *other*? It means that you are from elsewhere, that you are different, that you are a foreigner. Not only does it evoke the exotic (and wild?), it emphasises distance. *Other* is a word that creates separation, making it difficult to feel a sense of belonging.

No matter how much you integrate into a collective, people's gaze upon you is also significant. It is a bidirectional force. I carry my family lineage and all the stereotypes attached to every one of my nationalities or cultural heritages. As *other*, you become, whether you want to or not, the representative of all the collectives to which you may be connected. To have a multicultural identity can feel like having your body as a battleground between cultural clashes. In terms of political representation, it makes you invisible. *Other* becomes a distant, scarcely understood group that seems to live on the fringes of defined and dominant categories. Suppose a group wants to participate in political decision-making and claim its existence as multicultural and not as an undefined other that remains somewhat on the sidelines. In that case, it needs to be recognised and gain strength within the social structure.

Things have been changing since I was a child. In this increasingly globalised and intercultural world, there is a pressing need to understand the multicultural reality. More and more people are mixed. They are far more interested in exploring their own identity and somewhat less willing to stick to a single category. The experience of who we are as individuals, and how we live, can no longer be confined to one single box. While categories can help us understand and give voice to a collective experience, they shouldn't limit us and encapsulate us within them such that we believe in identifying solely with those in that box with us, recreating the eternal and frankly boring dichotomy of us-versus-them. Moreover, it is a fiction no identity is static, nor can it be pinned down to a cultural, racial, political, or religious category. You name it. Even the most homogeneous group is multi-layered. And if it is not, it is probably a cult.

Since I grew up travelling, I've internalised more than one culture and now identify with cultural pluralism. Having a multicultural identity is not only about being exposed to other cultures, but it also entails that you have a connection to those cultures, that your allegiance does not reside in just one place and that your family lives in many areas. It means that in the process of adaptation, you acquire a certain fluidity that enables you to grasp and adapt to others' gaze more easily, like a colourful chameleon that switches accents, tonalities, and language according to the context. But it can also involve dealing with a lack of belonging. Whether you have moved from one country to another and in the process of acculturation have internalised other cultures, or because you were born into a multicultural family, belonging to multiple places and cultures can be a challenge. This is especially the case when the general sense of belonging is limited to one category, and implicit or explicit messages suggest that you are not enough of one culture or another. Or even when you feel attacked or discriminated against for being the infamous *other*. Imagine living all of your life in the same city and being seen as the *other* because you come from a multicultural family even though you speak the same language, eat in the same restaurants, and build your life around the same streets as everyone else. Being accepted implies the freedom to live fully with your diversity and multiple alliances without it impeding your sense of belonging to the community you live in; We are not only a story that we inherit, but we are also a creative process.

So how do we give coherence to our identity when society asks us to compartmentalise our identity? How do we respond to these forms?

On my last trip to South America, it became crystal clear that I would never feel integrated if I constantly felt compelled to define myself in the most comfortable way for others. That it was no longer about being Spanish, Venezuelan, or Paraguayan like everyone else, but about being Spanish, Venezuelan, and Paraguayan with all my mixtures. This cultural unification has been gradually occurring since I decided that I didn't have to be a particular way to belong, that I could be connected to all my parts without getting lost in the process. We can accept to have a devalued identity, or we can own our differences by showing ourselves. By acknowledging your multicultural identity, you're embracing your stories and the plurality that exists in each singularity. The most vibrant places consist of people who weave worlds together within a single city, creating new stories that reframe our individual and group identities.

So, which box did I tick at the end, you may be wondering. "Mixed other", while specifying all my cultural identities; stepping out of my comfort zone by reflecting an increasingly common reality in the hope that instead of considering multiculturalism as something different and distant, perhaps we can see it as a bridge to more synergistic societies.

It became crystal clear that I would never feel integrated if I constantly defined myself in the most comfortable way for others.