The Hidden Costs of Our Donation Bags

Every year, as much as 700,000 tons of used clothing from the U.S. alone are dumped and sorted through in different markets throughout Africa. Every year, millions of people clean out their closets, stuff old clothes in donation bags, and give them to a charity that will ship them off to a country in Africa. And every year, we tell ourselves it's for charity. We’ve built an entire routine around this idea: buy, wear, donate, repeat. 

I have always been told that my yearly clothing donations are displays of generosity. But underneath the piles of my out-of-style skinny jeans, old soccer jerseys, and shrunken hoodies is the destruction of the African textile industry and slowing of the continent’s industrialization capabilities. Those bags of clothes don’t always end up in a deserving child’s hands, but rather a global system that sorts, resells, and trashes massive amounts of secondhand clothing into countries which are facing more harm than good from them. 

About a third of globally donated clothes makes its way from wholesale rag houses to sub-Saharan Africa, with many countries importing hundreds of millions of dollars worth of used garments. In places like Kenya and Ghana, massive piles of clothing—called mitumba—are sold at prices so low that local producers simply cannot compete. This doesn’t just result in lower clothing prices, but the rapid derailing of domestic textile industries. In the ‘70s and ‘80s, many African countries had growing textile sectors which employed tens of thousands of workers and promoted local production. However, today, in countries like Nigeria, that number has dropped dramatically—over 70 textile manufacturing firms closed down, retrenching roughly 250,000 workers. This is especially concerning because the textile industry has historically been the launching point for nation-wide industrialization, as seen in countries like Britain and Japan, due to its low costs and high job creation capabilities. 

This lack of industrial development reinforces the cycle of dependence upon secondhand clothing. Instead of producing their own clothing, countries become cogs trapped within the machine of importing clothing, which creates a clear imbalance in the global economy. While wealthier countries continue to produce and overconsume, African nations are pushed down to the role of decomposers, even when they have the resources, labor, and potential to produce for themselves. 

As a response to this imbalance, countries in East Africa like Rwanda, Uganda, and Tanzania announced ambitious plans to phase out the large imports of secondhand clothing in order to protect and develop their domestic textile industries in 2016. However, 10 years later, it is apparent that only Rwanda is following through with these plans. The loss of support from fellow African nations was swift, and largely due to the U.S.-based industry groups lobbying the Trump administration to intervene—particularly the Secondary Materials and Recycled Textiles Association, which said that the East African Nation’s decision to phase out used clothing would impose significant economic hardship on America's used-clothing industry. They estimated that the secondhand apparel ban could cost 40,000 US jobs and $124 million in exports. As a result, the U.S. suspended Rwanda’s duty-free access to certain exports under the African Growth and Opportunity Act in 2018, essentially punishing the country for trying to develop its own industry. It’s obvious that our yearly “charitable” donations are really just tools to keep a toxic system running. 

This system’s harm goes beyond just economics; it reaches the environment too. Part of the reason we think donating clothes is beneficial is because it’s framed as a sustainable practice. Instead of throwing away our clothes, we see donations as giving them a “second life” and a way to protect our environment from the detrimental effects of overconsumption. But that is far from how it actually plays out. In markets like those in Ghana, vendors often throw out almost 4 percent of items due to them being unsellable. One hundred tons of garments leave the market every day as waste. Around 70 percent of that ends up in illegal dumps, ditches, and drains, where the waste flows into rivers and the sea.

Still, the secondhand clothing business provides many benefits to African countries that makes it hard to replace. For many people, it gives them access to clothes that they otherwise may not be able to afford when sold new. Due to the low incomes of much of Africa’s population, this system fills in a vast and prominent wealth gap. Entire local economies are constructed around the packaging, distribution, and selling of these garments. And for charities, the topic of donations is complex, because they understand the need for cheap garments in developing countries, and the short-term aid it brings. While this system addresses the immediate needs of the population, it doesn’t build any long-term strength or stability in the economy. The network that provides cheap goods and constructs local economies is also the one preventing the growth of local industries and the scaling of employment opportunities. The issue is bigger than whether secondhand clothing helps African countries: it’s whether the industry is sustainable, and if the long-term consequences truly outweigh the short-term benefits. 

The consequences are clear, yet millions continue to contribute to this cycle of unhealthy waste and dependence. Why? Because it’s far easier to donate a shirt than to delve deep and question the system behind it or change your consumption habits. Dropping off clothes in a few plastic bags is the easiest way to feel like you have done something good. Charities and donation sites never mention the large, exploitative systems that these clothes are entering. Consumers don’t see the sorting warehouses, waterway pollution, or industrial destruction. Often these charities, which are run by major companies or wealthy people, continue to ship clothing mainly due to it being highly profitable for Western organizations, and because it solves a massive waste disposal problem for them. The tax benefits and social influence for charities are also huge, which causes those to be the primary enticements rather than actually benefiting those in need.  

If we actually want to help, the solution isn’t donating more—it’s consuming less. Prioritizing local redistribution, be it through thrift stores or homeless shelters, is much better than letting dishonest charities funnel your clothes into harmful overseas markets. Even something as simple as reselling unwanted clothing can extend its lifespan without pushing it into a global web. We must support organizations that are transparent about where the clothes go and what their effects are on local populations in Africa. If clothes are being collected in our name, and in the practice of charity, we should know where they actually end up, who benefits from them, and who may be harmed in the process. Currently, most people don’t understand the full impact of their donated clothing, or only hear a simplified version that conveniently leaves out the economic and environmental detriments. Educating families and communities about sustainable clothing practices, and proper consumption habits are vital in preventing this system from continuing to go unchecked. 

We must also hold our government accountable for their decisions regarding this issue. If they continue to champion themselves on the global stage as assisting African countries, then they must stop punishing the nations that are trying to develop their own industries. Although recent U.S. politics has shifted toward a “trade-not-aid” policy with Africa, the government should still implement greater company oversight and regulation from charities and clothing companies. This would prevent them from leaving developing countries as dumping grounds for their clothing. In places where textile pollution has caused environmental damage, there must be global investments in cleaning efforts, recycling infrastructure, and sustainable waste management. The victim countries shouldn’t have to be the ones left to repair all the harm. 

Ultimately, the skinny jeans, soccer jerseys, and hoodies that many people like me donate every year are not just a simple gesture of generosity, but rather part of a large, snaking system that affects far more than just the space in our closets. And until we are truly able to understand what those unassuming donation bags become across the ocean, we’ll keep on mistaking our consumption for charity and excess for help, harming the very people we want to aid.