As Raki from West Papua took the microphone, the festive atmosphere at the A12 climate blockade fell silent. Around me, thousands of protesters who had been cheering the classical orchestra and the street performers stood still, arm in arm. His words cut through our mood: climate change is terrorising his homeland, and our country’s colonial legacy lived on through our government’s choices. While we protested fossil fuel subsidies on the A12, the system we inherited continued to exploit his people’s land.

Listening to Raki Ap that day, I began to see how history echoes in the present. The colonial mindset that drove Europeans to see the world as something to discover and exploit hasn’t disappeared—it has evolved. Back then, colonisers operated as if they thought: what we find, we keep. The resources—and people!—were never theirs to take, yet that’s exactly what they did.

We have used, taken, and exploited, building our wealth upon it and using that wealth to develop ourselves. As a privileged, wealthy, white woman in the cosmetics industry, I had to acknowledge this wasn’t just history—it was my present reality. It took time to see how deep these colonial patterns ran in my own work.

After hearing Raki, I began examining my industry’s role in perpetuating colonial systems. The obvious ingredients to investigate were shea butter, argan oil, and palm oil— from previously colonised areas with documented trade practices that exploit local farmers and communities. As I dug deeper, I discovered colonial patterns in unexpected places.

Years ago, a supplier pitched their ’new’ bisabolol, explaining it wouldn’t require felling trees, like the traditional natural version. I saw it as an environmental issue—the destruction of Brazilian trees for a cosmetic ingredient for Europe. Now, with new eyes, I began investigating deeper. What I discovered was staggering: it takes one ton of 12-year-old candeia wood to produce 7 kilograms of bisabolol. This ingredient, used in baby care to aftershave, was decimating Brazilian trees. Reports from 2000 referred to a ‘candeia mafia’—the high demand sparked illegal harvesting, pushing the tree to extinction.1

Now I saw something different: this wasn’t just environmental destruction, but a clear example of modern colonialism hiding in my formulations.2 Here was Europe’s demand for a luxury skincare ingredient literally uprooting Brazil’s future. A synthetic alternative existed, but I rejected it, as I only created and manufactured natural cosmetics.

After the bisabolol pitch, I developed a simple and pragmatic impact analysis model for my team. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped us determine each ingredient’s social and environmental impact. After Raki’s speech, I added new questions: Who profits from this ingredient? Who is paying the real price? The answers revealed colonial patterns.

These revelations forced me to confront an uncomfortable truth: the wealth of our industry was built on centuries of exploitation. We took resources, denied others the means to develop, and continue to profit from these unequal relationships.

This isn’t just about history. It’s about the choices we make today. The legacy of colonial exploitation is woven through our industry’s supply chains, from the ingredients we source to the wages we pay.

My investigation into bisabolol opened my eyes to similar patterns across our industry. Fair Trade’s fundamental principle—that “earning a decent livelihood is a human right”—resonated deeply with what I was discovering. It also showed me a path forward. While certifications alone can’t solve everything, Fair Trade offers tools for change. They define fairness not just as paying minimum wage, but as providing a ‘Living Wage’—enough for workers and their families to afford food, housing, healthcare, and education.

This matters because in many formerly colonised countries, workers still receive unfair wages for harvesting ingredients: mica, argan nuts, cocoa, and palm.

I’ve learned to ask suppliers specific questions about wages and working conditions. The Global Living Wage Coalition provides benchmarks to ensure fairness.

Through years of formulating and investigating, I’ve learned that uncovering these patterns requires persistence. It means going beyond certifications—checking ingredient origins, verifying working conditions, consulting resources like the US Department of Labor’s annual list of goods produced with forced labour. Each question brings us closer to understanding the actual cost of our ingredients.

The tools for change exist. We can choose suppliers who prioritize sustainability and fair wages. We can demand transparency. We can refuse to accept “that’s just how it’s done” as an answer.

That day on the A12, Raki showed me how our choices ripple across the world. Now, every ingredient decision carries that weight—and possibility for change. We can no longer turn a blind eye. What will we choose to see, and what will we do about it?

1. Alves Gomes Albertti, L., Delatte, T.L., Souza de Farias, K., Boaretto, A.G., Verstappen, F., van Houwelingen, A., Cankar, K., Carollo, C.A., Bouwmeester, H.J. & Beekwilder, J. (2018) “Identification of the Bisabolol Synthase in the Endangered Candeia Tree (Eremanthus Erythropappus (DC) McLeisch).” *Frontiers in plant. Frontiers in Plant Science* 9 (September), 9, 1340. DOI: 10.3389/fpls.2018.01340, PubMed: 30294334. ↩︎
2. Yale Global online. “Sustainability or Greenwashing?” https://archive-yaleglobal.yale.edu/content/sustainability-or-greenwashing Accessed 26 August 2024. ↩︎