When I was younger, I spent a lot of time in thrift stores. My mom bought household items and clothing and I played hide-and-seek in the racks or read age inappropriate books from the 50 cent shelf. Thrift stores supplemented our six-person family with four school-age children. I think maybe there was another side to it though; especially since we already had access to marked down, tax-free clothing through government subsidized stores on the military installations where my dad worked. 

My mother grew up in poverty as the second oldest of ten children. My grandma worked really hard to support them. When my mom was younger, she was bullied at school for not having the right clothing or shoes or deodorant—basically for being low income. I think thrifting was something that made sense to her long after she no longer strictly needed it to get by. Anyways, that’s her story. Here’s mine.

I thrifted throughout college, while I also worked as a janitor, and I kept up the habit after graduation. In my early 20s, I lived paycheck to paycheck and thrift stores put dishes on my shelves, and cute clothes in my closet. By this time, cheap goods from big box stores were also becoming an option—something I didn’t grow up with in the 90s. 

But eventually, things changed. I spent less and less time thrifting on the weekends. 

It wasn’t a conversation I ever had with myself. And I don’t think I stopped because I understood the importance of not thrifting if you don’t have to. But it just sort of happened. Thrifting was no longer a necessity for me, it had become a leisure activity. And I had other leisure activities that occupied my time. As my income increased, I also lived farther and farther away from the thrift stores, pawn shops, and payday loan centers that had defined the neighborhoods of my early 20s. So it sort of made sense that I no longer shopped there. 

It eventually reached a point where I would have had to go out of my way to thrift. And it would’ve felt strange to park a $23,000 car in the lot, walk into a place full of donated items and score a few “cute tops” for $5. Like, ‘no hun—that is not the way,’—but anyways, I wasn’t consciously thinking any of that. I just gradually stopped thrifting. 

Of course, I still buy used clothing. Most of my new clothing consists of gently used items from local consignment stores and from online reselling platforms like Poshmark and eBay. Yes, it’s more expensive; however, it feels right. Taking donated items out of the hands of people who need them to clothe their families, keep Child Protective Services off their backs, look their best at low-paying jobs that offer just short of full time hours—that doesn’t feel right. You probably already know that. Or maybe you don’t know. If this is new information to you, I’m gonna need you to put the vintage top down and stop shopping at Goodwill. Here are five reasons why:

5. You don’t need to

I’m not talking to the folks who may no longer depend on thrifting to strictly get by but who rely on it to budget effectively. No, no, no. This message isn’t for you. This is for the folks for whom thrifting is a leisure activity: a date night or something they do after brunch on the weekends. I know thrifting looks like any other old form of capitalism. Goodwill is a 6.1 billion dollar industry after all. And in a sense you’re not wrong, but in this context, you’d be mistaken. These are donated items. They are not for you. They are for people who actually need them. 

If you do not need these donated items to get by; to make ends meet; to make it to the next payday; or to meet your basic needs—please don’t purchase them. This isn’t the fun shopping experience where you and your friends find slouchy oversized tops to complete your 90s fit, or a cute dress to wear once for the campus party. This isn’t a game where you win by finding the name-brand pieces and bragging about how much money you saved. It’s also not a way to bolster your self image as an eco friendly, low waste environmentalist. People depend on these items to clothe their families and you don’t. 

4. You have other options—they don’t. 

You can afford pricier consignment options. And now you know the difference between consigned goods, where a portion of the profit goes to the consignor and a portion goes to the consignee, and thrift shops where donated goods often fail to reach their intended recipients: low income people and low income families. 

Now you understand that when people who can afford to pay higher shop at thrift stores, prices increase for everyone. Yes, that's right. Your desire to feel good about yourself can actually price low-income adults out of the stores they depend on to clothe their families. 

Then there are predatory resellers who buy donated items in bulk in order to resell name-brand or vintage clothing on Etsy, Poshmark, ThredUp or their own websites. They also contribute to rising costs at thrift stores. 

So you shop consignment now. You’re still environmentally conscious and low waste. You’re also staying alert for predatory resellers with thousands or tens of thousands of reviews. You’re doing your part.

3. You’re deconstructing your class bias

Maybe for a brief time, you bought into the idea that there’s enough of the thrifted name-brand finds to go around or that low-income adults should be grateful to pick over Shein remains—they don’t deserve to have nice things, after all. But you do. You have the leisure time to make a hobby of thrifting. Your friends are impressed by your ability to find the best name-brand items. It’s not your fault that low-income folks thrift to survive and not to pass the time. It’s not your fault that they have to pick over leftovers of well-to-do thrifters who aren’t stuck working just short of full time hours with no benefits while spending the majority of their income on skyrocketing rent, food and fuel prices. 

Now you know better. You realize that we live in a country where the same people who call the police on the homeless for occupying their gentrified city blocks with unsightly tents and parked vans—those same people will pride themselves for being “environmentally friendly” as they thrift donated goods—you know, the stuff that was actually intended for the unhoused folks they don’t want in their upscale neighborhoods. Wait, but how are the poor supposed to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and achieve the American Dream when we keep stealing from them?

You are a work in progress. You are beginning to understand that low-income adults are held to impossible, ridiculous standards while being deprived of the resources they need to survive. You didn’t grow up Black or Brown in low income neighborhoods marked by disinvestment and over-policing. You’ve never been fearful of Child Protective Services taking away your children because you couldn’t afford to clothe them in a way that society deemed acceptable. The thrift store isn’t your primary means of clothing your family and furnishing your apartment. Or maybe you never considered just how costly it is to be low income in the U.S.

But you do realize that we live in a country where people are judged by their appearance and where standards of beauty, professionalism, acceptability are limited to a certain skin color, body size, and socioeconomic level. You’re also starting to understand how poverty intersects with race and disability. We are constantly told to ‘dress for the job you want, not the one you have.’ You can’t believe that and still feel angry that MBC thinks you should leave the donated Christy Dawn prairie dress for someone who actually needs it. And that person is not you. 

2. You no longer depend on Goodwill for virtue signaling 

It’s not that you set out to care more about virtue signaling than the basic needs of low-income families. You’re not quite sure how you got to that point—things spiraled out-of-control. It’s more like an unintended consequence of actually giving a damn. You move in progressive circles and there’s so much peer pressure to do things a certain way. Your behavior gets policed even as you police the actions of your friends and neighbors.

You don’t want to be shamed for not using reusable bags (to bring home your mostly plastic packaging from the store). You don’t want to be shamed for using plastic straws even though your child has dysphagia and depends on the damn things to help supplement his TPN. You don’t want to be shamed for buying fast fashion or for allowing your kids to eat processed sugars and you certainly don’t want to be shamed for not being the low waste, sustainable, environmentally conscious person that everyone thinks you are. 

Yes you’ve considered repairing old clothing but how would your friends and neighbors know—there’s little virtue signaling value in that. It doesn’t naturally come up in conversation nor does it roll off the tongue. You’ve considered outfit repeating but while your skin is light or white, you’re not thin enough for that to be socially acceptable. Or maybe you are thin but your skin color isn’t light enough. We all know that outfit repeating is a trendy practice on the right type of socially acceptable body but that doesn’t include everyone. Plus, you don’t want anyone to report your kids to CPS for neglect.

But there’s value in scoring a cute, trendy outfit from your local thrift store. Your friends will compliment you and when they do you can modestly proclaim, “Oh this old thing? I got it from Goodwill.” They’ll be impressed!

It’s not that you’ve ceased virtue signaling. Who knows? Maybe it’s something human beings are hardwired to do. You want to be judged and found worthy as the right sort of progressive in your mostly white town. However, you no longer need to take donated goods away from families who depend on them in order to feel good about yourself. 

1. You realize that saving the planet will require systemic change

So to be clear, saving the planet will require political activism and systemic change. And a fundamental shift in capitalism. Yet, for some reason—let’s call it western individualism and capitalism indoctrination—we like to pretend that the action or inaction of ordinary people will determine our fate. We focus more on shaming ourselves and others than challenging and disrupting the systems that contribute the most to climate change. Never mind the fact that 100 companies are responsible for 71% of emissions. We like to pretend that ditching plastic bags for reusable ones will save the planet. Or ditching single use straws. It won’t. Meanwhile, capitalism and apathetic western governments are running this planet into the ground.  

Conclusion

Lastly, we want to acknowledge that thrift stores like Goodwill have a long dark history of legally exploiting disabled workers. Under the 1938 Fair Labor Standard Act (FLSA), disabled employees are paid far below minimum wage. This practice of “subminimum wages” for “substandard workers” is rooted in anti-Black racism—and it exists to this day. Didn’t know? Learn more about the history here. 

Next Steps

While it’s true that there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism, that doesn’t mean you should give up. You might not be able to fix the planet by thrifting but you can still deconstruct your class bias by not taking donated goods away from low income families.

You have other eco-friendly options like outfit repeating, repairing old clothing, and buying consignment. You can also look into your local Buy Nothing, Facebook clothing swaps and local yard sales. Yes time is a resource, and it’s ironic that people with more means often have the time to thrift while people with fewer resources don’t. If time is an abundant resource for you, please use it to find alternatives to thrifting.

Want to take an extra step? Well-to-do families exchanging gently used clothing and household items may help people feel better about themselves, but it’s still classist and racist. It excludes people who would actually benefit from the practice. Most of us don’t live in mixed income neighborhoods, after all. It’s a truth universally acknowledged that white folks in well-to-do neighborhoods will organize and fight to the last person to block the construction of affordable housing. Not In My Backyard, right? If your neighborhood has more BLM signs than actual Black people, your clothing swap is sustainable but not equitable. So what can you do?

Look for ways to support working class families with limited resources—even if they don't live next door. It’s not as simple as inviting them to swap events in your neighborhood where they’ll face microaggressions and outright racist and classist remarks. It’s not as simple as inviting them to events if they don’t have the time to participate or a way to show up. Also, few people like the power imbalance implicit in receiving “charity.”

Mutual aid is more impactful. Make friends with people outside of your tax bracket. Do the work to unpack your implicit bias and practice anti racism in your daily life. Take the time to build healthy relationships with people from different races and socioeconomic backgrounds. Build trust and be a decent human being. Then help out where you can without making it weird. Don’t make it about you. And definitely don’t be a white savior. Nobody wants that. But do support your friends who are busting their ass to survive in an economy that penalizes them for being poor and re-traumatizes them for not fulfilling whatever version of the American Dream corporate America is currently selling. And don’t thrift if you don’t have to.