Struggling to Be an Ethical Consumer

The ways in which consuming ethically can be unethical 

By Ava Kian

It can be so difficult to be environmentally conscious, especially when making consumer decisions. It’s easy to feel like you are the cause of all harm happening to the Earth. The responsibility is big and the fear of failure hangs over your head. Every time I open my laptop to buy something, I feel a wave of guilt, a sense that my actions are responsible for the climate catastrophe, exploitative labor, the wealth gap, and all the other large issues that circle back to consumerism. 

It’s good to be a conscious consumer, but is there a point where being overly conscious harms not only you but also the cause you are trying to help? 

From my experiences, yes. Over the past year, I have been trying to make changes to my routines and habits to transition to a zero-waste lifestyle, only to realize the detrimental effects it has on my mental health and the climate’s health.  

I began my zero-waste journey by substituting everyday goods for more eco-conscious products. First, I started with purchasing bamboo toothbrushes in bulk from Amazon, hoping that the one-time purchase would last over a year and prevent me from buying plastic toothbrushes. I also stopped accepting free toothbrushes from my dentist, simply by saying “No thanks, I’ve got one.” I have not finished my supply of bamboo toothbrushes and to this day am proud of that purchase. 

Next, I made the conscious choice to bring bags and silverware with me everywhere I went. This simple action not only saved me money at stores but also eased my conscience. The feeling of being prepared and reducing your waste is amazing—until you forget one time. I remember the first time I forgot my silverware during a trip to Chipotle, and after entering my car I sat down and bawled my eyes out. It felt as if I had failed the world. I had one job, which was as simple as grabbing two things before leaving the house, and I failed to do that. It was devastating, and life-crushing, but even worse was when I would go out with others and only had enough silverware for myself. Then, I felt responsible for their waste, overwhelmed by the thought that I needed to be a better advocate for the environment by making this sustainable lifestyle available to everyone. I can’t count the number of times I forgot to bring a bag to the grocery store but had too much pride and fear of failure to accept a plastic bag. I would instead carry 15 items in my hands, struggling to pay with my credit card without dropping everything and making a fool of myself. I swear the employees at Fresh Thyme have seen me at my lowest, where I’ve done the craziest shit to avoid plastic. 

After that, I spent six months deliberating, researching, and trying on shoes, but didn’t purchase any. As I write this, I’m wearing the same holey shoes from when I first decided to start looking for a new pair. I tried online thrifting through Depop, but the shoes didn’t fit. I considered purchasing from the European company Veja, which offers a vegan sneaker with a guaranteed low environmental impact, however, it would need to be shipped all the way from Europe. I even drove to DSW four times but ended up not getting anything because I wasn’t willing to buy a leather product. I was constantly struggling with deciding what the most ethical solution would be. Should I just have bought a leather sneaker from DSW the first time I went? Or would it be better if I purchased from the more ethical and expensive brand, Veja, in which the shoes still endured transportation pollution? Was wanting vegan shoes, in this case, getting in the way of my goal of having a low carbon footprint? As a consumer, I was deeply confused and overwhelmed, which led me to keep 11 tabs open on my laptop over the entire summer, I kid you not. To this day, I am still wearing the shoes that were falling apart last May, wondering why I put myself through such hell in finding a pair of shoes. 

As I started to realize the impact my zero-waste efforts were having on my mental health, I wondered if this “low-waste lifestyle” was the right approach. Would being zero-waste help that much? I felt as if it had already done much more harm than good, and resulted in increased carbon emissions and mental stress. 

So, while I was happy I tried it, I realized something very important: no matter how many zero-waste YouTube videos I watched, my experience would never be like any of theirs. There are a plethora of factors that contribute to the success of a zero-waste lifestyle, such as accessibility and affordability. Because I was financially unable to purchase more expensive but ethical products, I found it almost impossible to be a fully ethical consumer. 

I needed to stop shaming myself for purchasing something with plastic or buying shoes online because the objectives of zero-waste were getting lost through the challenges. I was at the point where every purchase created an argument in my head, where every action had a counteraction. My zero-waste mindset was getting in the way of logical thinking, and as a result not only did I harm the environment, but I harmed myself. 

I try my best to be an ethical consumer by being aware of the impacts of my actions. However, through my journey, I learned that the intention of reducing waste is far more important than the final result. Now, I greatly value self-reflection and non-judgmental thinking and have an understanding that the zero-waste lifestyle is achieved through time and other circumstantial factors, such as accessibility of sustainable alternatives. It became clear to me the importance of mental health above being zero waste, realizing now that regardless of whether I was successfully zero-waste, the intention to reduce my environmental impact is what really matters.