The white shirt, two little girls and privilege

I bought Hana fancy white shirt – the kind I would wear. It is a white long sleeved jersey shirt, with a long vertical strip of crochet down the middle. I was very excited to buy it on sale at Zara. I felt justified spending $7.99 on it even though it was an extravagance considers she would grow out of it soon enough and that I could easily buy cheaper clothes at old navy at $2 a pop sometimes. I bought it anyway – I enjoyed the luxury of it.
And today when I deemed it a special enough day to wear it, I coaxed it on her the way you sometimes have to with a fussy toddler. I had to stop half way while undressing her but eventually I managed to quickly slip it over her head and as it was making its way over her hair, the tag flashed ‘made in Bangladesh’ and for a minute it caught me off guard and transported me to another place. I imagined the little hands that perhaps may have made this shirt and how it was now worn by her. I imagine how the people making these clothes may have admired these little clothes with no hopes of ever being able to wear them. How in some ways I am connected to both ends of this cycle – the little girl that helped us in the kitchen while we were in Bangladesh for our summer holidays on year and my little girl. What different lives. Will she ever know? My little girl of the privilege she has? So much of me just wants her to have it all but true privilege I just realized is being grateful for it all – for be able to understand what privilege we have


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