"Tribal Textiles" in a World of "Fast Fashion"

I was recently asked what I thought about "the sudden interest" in tribal textiles. Yet, my interest, and I'm sure that of many people, was ignited when first I was exposed to them. In my case that was about 30 years ago in Guatemala.

Tribal textiles generally exhibit an unexpected use of form, colour and texture; conversely, mainstream fashions are watered down to appeal to the widest (not wildest) market. Tribal textiles are so inherently different than the mass produced fashions that fill shopping malls that anyone who looks beyond the everyday and the proscribed could not fail to be intrigued by them.

Traditional Hmong "flower cloths" -- reverse applique on hemp

Of course, another important aspect of their appeal is the growing trend towards ethical consumption. Consumers want to have their cake and eat it, too, that is they want to shop their way out of the global crises we find ourselves in environmentally and economically after more than 50 years of expanding, industrial consumption. Tribal textiles fit the bill – because they can be traced back to a time when societies lived in a greater harmony with nature and when production itself was more authentic, that is, more human and less industrial.

Paleung backstrap weavers in Northern Thailand

Contemporary fashion created with traditional Paleung skills

At the same time, tribal textiles' apparently primitive styles are consistent with the DIY trend that has been popular for a generation already. When the understated elegance and expert tailoring of high fashion, well enough haute couture, were supplanted by art students' creations of cast-offs re-assembled into layered collages, the audience receptive to tribal textiles expanded.

But, what does this mean for the women who produce these textiles? Unfortunately, it might not mean much. The current world of "fast fashion" decrees that styles come and go faster and cheaper than a traditional textile can be produced!

Traditional textiles, regardless of their cultural origins, are produced by hand. While many of the women in the Global South who make them might consider $5/day a living wage, it may take weeks to finish a piece. The end result is slower and more expensive than almost anything produced in a factory, especially when you consider the follow-on costs of sourcing, shipping, labelling, marketing and retailing a product that is produced in limited quantities. Economies of scale do not apply here.

Traditional Mien needlework decorates mobile phone pouches

Consequently, many tribal textiles are being bought used and sold by the bale. A trip to the backside of a large market in a culturally diverse area (such as in Northern Thailand) will reveal truckloads of such textiles. But how is this possible?

The saddest reason is that armed conflicts increase the availability of such booty. Loads of pre-owned textiles came out of Guatemala during the genocidal years of the 1980’s, just as loads of used tribal textiles are coming out of Burma now. Many of these have probably been trans-shipped from China, Tibet or who-knows-where.

These pre-owned textiles are then reworked in nearby sweatshops into designs that will have greater appeal outside the original cultures that they were produced by and for. Not only does this provide incomes to merchants rather than artisans, it also robs young people of their cultural heritage by exporting rare patterns rather than preserving them for future generations.

Some fair traders are doing business in a better way, of course. They establish relationships with artisans who are still producing textiles in traditional ways, whether with backstrap looms, with natural dyes and fibres, or with intricate needlework – sometimes with all three. The products so produced are sold in limited editions and at higher prices, because paying fairly for intricate handwork is never cheap, even when the artisan has a much lower cost of living. However, there will always be for a niche market for those who understand the value, as well as costs and the limitations, of artisanal goods.

Designing accent pillows with a Hmong sewing group

Here at TAMMACHAT, we buy our textiles directly from the women that make them, putting money into the hands of artisans who are working to sustain their families, their communities and their cultures. We spend time together discussing how to best use their skills for our markets, without damaging anyone’s environment. Whether it’s a scarf woven on a backstrap loom, a cushion cover decorated with traditional appliqué or a bag that combines both of those skills, we know that the artists who made them were not exploited, nor were their cultures appropriated.

We bring these to market in tens and twenties, rather than tens of thousands. Once a year we return to Southeast Asia to replace last year's treasures that have found new homes. These tribal textiles are neither fast nor cheap but they are fairly traded treasures for those who can recognize the difference.

Alleson Kase
Co-founder, TAMMACHAT Natural Textiles

Cross stitch textiles reduce women's poverty

At the Asia Pacific Feminist Forum, I wasted no time finding the women's craft area. The struggle against the exploitation of migrant labour – domestic and industrial – was a major topic and the products available in the craft area were examples of positive income alternatives.

My eyes went immediately to the needlework of a women’s group from Phayao in northern Thailand. Baan Tho Fan Maetam Group is a social enterprise formed to help earn additional for village women and to provide scholarships to village children who are otherwise easy prey for sexual exploitation.

The group is comprised of an embroidery team of 59 hill tribe women. Mien (i.e., Yao) women are widely known as expert cross stitchers; the beautiful works on display were fine examples. The Maetam Group also includes a sewing team of 7 women who add these decorations onto sturdy cotton bags and pouches.

TAMMACHAT will be selling these wonderfully crafted, fair trade items in the Spring and Summer of 2012, when this group will celebrate their 16th anniversary of providing alternatives to poverty and exploitation.

Alleson

#8: Hmong Flower Cloths

Dec. 15, 2009

From Chiang Mai we headed north by bus to Chiang Rai province to meet with a group of White Hmong sewers. Our plan was to make an order for several dozen "pa'ndau" -- pronounced "pan-dow" and often translated as "flower cloth" -- a style of reverse applique that decorates many items used by traditional Hmong families.

Having no written language, Hmong rituals and artistry have been vital in keeping their unique culture alive. Extraordinary needlework has long been a large part of that culture; Hmong girls traditionally begin to learn the stitches for pa'ndau embroidery as young as 5 years old.

The last few years, we've bought many flower cloths through the Queen of Thailand’s SUPPORT Project -- a handicraft development program designed to boost farm families’ welfare, provide women with an important source of income and preserve cultural artistry. The SUPPORT Project was launched in conjunction with The Thai Royal Project Foundation initiated by the King of Thailand in 1969 to encourage hilltribe villagers to switch from the cultivation of opium poppies to alternative crops.

The flower cloths we've brought to Canada are often mounted on a piece of hemp about 12" square, as hemp has traditionally been retted and woven by Hmong women as well. The squares have been very popular at our events, especially with fibre artists. Last year we paired flower cloth squares with organic cotton from the Pattanarak Foundation to make cushion covers, which were just as popular.

Last year Ellen also set herself the task of finding a Hmong sewing group from which we could buy flower cloths directly to assure ourselves that the women were paid fairly for their work. Several dead-ends later, she found Patricia Solar of Izara Arts, who was able to put us in contact with a group of Hmong sewers.

With the help of Izara Arts' production manager Muay -- and her truck -- we travelled several hours into the "Golden Triangle" where Thailand meets Burma and Laos. Once we reached the White Hmong village, we also had the help of Kamonnit (the daughter of the head of the sewing group, Mai Li), whose job in the group is communications, sales and accounts. In addition to Hmong, Kamonnit is fluent and literate in Thai, and reads and writes enough English to use email.

A small crowd of us gathered around a rickety tin table in front of a tiny house -- Ellen and I, Muay and the mother of another Izara staff person, Mai Li, Kamonnit, the 5 older Hmong sewers and a passing neighbour. There we all were, almost blocking the street of the overgrown hamlet which was once a refugee settlement, speaking 3 languages while we poured over some samples we had brought with us. We learned from the sewers which elements of the designs were easier to sew, and which would take  more time and therefore cost more. We also learned that no one in the area made hemp fabric, which we had suspected might be the case.

As we talked, Mai Li quickly folded a piece of paper and cut into it the shapes of one of the samples we had brought: a paper pattern that these skilled sewers could transform into a finished flower cloth. So this is how they make them so symmetrical, we realized. Ellen and I were both reminded of making paper snowflakes as children.

With the sewers' input, we settled on 2 designs that could be fairly made within our budget. We chose 3 colour combinations for each design and explained their complex details to Kamonnit, who carefully wrote out the 6 variations. We would buy the hemp backing cloth in Chiang Mai, where it was more readily available; they would provide the coloured cloth for the designs, as well as the accent threads, which we selected from a large plastic bag filled with a tangle of dozens of coloured threads. For extra clarity, we stapled to each colour of cloth 2 corresponding thread colours, while the sewers nodded their approval of this communication technique.

We made a 50% cash deposit, our usual fair trade practice, and took banking information to transfer the final payment directly into the group's bank account, once the order was finished. We promised to email the address where they would send the finished pieces by bus so they could be transformed into cushion covers by the Pattanarak Foundation, a non-governmental organization working on Thailand's other border with Laos, also along the Mekong.

A new challenge will be to find handwoven hemp cloth in Laos, home to many Hmong and other ethnic minorities who still  live isolated rural lives in the upland areas of that mountainous country.

Alleson (Pii Plaa)