The Care Collective

It’s a hot summer’s day on an alpaca farm 40 miles north of Manhattan, and eight leaders in the environmental space have come together. This space is small and interwoven, as each of these women know firsthand. The climate crisis is daunting, but this community remains steadfast.

Of these eight advocates, five have brought along their children, ranging between six weeks and 10 years old, and two are pregnant – both in their last trimester. What unites all of them is the (largely overlooked) role they are playing in this period of climate transition: caregiving – whether that’s within their local and global communities, their industries, or for the environment.

Cameron Russell, the activist and fashion model behind one of the world’s most-watched TED talks, “Looks Aren’t Everything. Believe Me, I’m a Model”, says that she spent the pandemic asking herself and society the question, “What would the world look like with more caregivers?” In 2021, the occupation of essential workers holds greater weight and deserved recognition than ever before. Russell, who guest-curated this shoot, broadens the definition of caregivers, clarifying, “When I say ‘care’, this includes nurses and first responders [and] it also includes people taking care of the land, people taking care of the community; people who sustain and maintain life.”

Schiros’s care for the world is directly linked to her passion for innovation – and hearing her speak on subjects such as waste or biomaterials has a lasting effect. She has recently launched Werewool, a biotech company creating degradable textile fibers with DNA-programmed color and function. This means, essentially, engineering textiles to mimic nature and to have climate stability. How is she accomplishing this? Innovation, of course. Cue next-generation, low-power electronics and artificial photosynthesis, plus the creation of solar fuels like hydrogen and regenerative textiles for the fashion industry.

She questions the focus on having children as a problem in the climate crisis, stating: “I find a lot of hope in the passion, courage and critical thinking with which children and young people approach climate change and other global issues.”

Case in point, she asks her 10-year-old son, Actionnel, “What gives you hope?” He replies, “Clean energy, like solar and wind. I think kids will do a lot, because we know what the problems are. My friends and I made a prototype ice-cream cone that might help stop two of the biggest climate-change sources: plastic and food waste. [It has a] design that doesn’t let ice cream drip or fall, and a spoon that you can eat when you are done to lower the amount of plastic waste.”

Pham has no time for apathy when it comes to the climate crisis, breaking down the intangible to a tangible course of action. “Counteracting climate change requires structural changes in the global economy, our social systems and our world views,” she says.

Straight to the point, Pham is quick to highlight common slogans used in the fashion industry, such as “shop local” or “buy American” that may seem ethical but are ultimately harmful and offensive to marginalized communities in the US and abroad. She explains, “First, terrible labor conditions aren’t ‘foreign’ problems. They exist in the US, too.” Garment workers in the US are predominantly Latina, Asian and Indigenous people from Latin America and Asia, who “have been fighting to improve these conditions for years”. A ‘made in the USA’ label does not guarantee that the product was made under decent labor standards.

“Second, ‘buy American’ campaigns have historically been a vehicle for nativist and often anti-Asian ideologies,” she says. “We saw this with the campaigns in the 1980s, which went hand in hand with figurative and literal Japan bashing and, today, ‘buy American’ and ‘buy local’ campaigns are also vehicles for anti-Asian and particularly anti-Chinese ideas and practices.”

As an artist and designer of her namesake sustainable brand – a slow-fashion studio creating small batches of clothing, accessories and artwork – Mao champions care that extends past those who you can directly touch, holding space for the unseen. “The question both inside and outside the industry seems to be shifting [now] from, ‘Do I want to be involved in this movement?’ to ‘How [can] I be involved?’” she says, optimistically.

In Mao’s most recent project, made in collaboration with an intergenerational cohort of Chinatown garment workers, many of her collaborators were in their sixties and seventies. In fact, Lorraine Lum, part of this group and pictured here with Mao, is the fourth generation of a beloved Chinatown shop; with decades of experience in pattern-making, she’s the ideal artistic partner. “Although it was important to create something beautiful and meaningful together,” says Mao, “it was even more important to make sure everyone’s health needs were met in a very direct way – does anyone need food, water, seating, rest?” She believes that only when people feel cared for can work be truly sustainable.

What’s next for Mao? “A question that I want to carry forward into upcoming projects is, how do we make clothes in a way that supports the lives of the people who both wear them and make them?” There will be a reimagining around the work process and environment as she continues to ask, ‘What would it look like to operate from a place of mutual care?’