Beneath the Clothes We Donate: How America’s Fast Fashion Addiction is lDrowning Ghana

By Nkozi Knight


A young boy stands amid mountains of discarded clothing and plastic waste on Ghana’s Chorkor Beach

Accra, Ghana

The beaches of Ghana should be sanctuaries. Places where waves kiss the sand and children play in peace. But on the shores of Chorkor Beach, the tide doesn’t bring seashells. It brings sweaters from Shein, leggings from Lululemon, and Target tees soaked in salt and filth.

Week after week, a deluge of secondhand clothing arrives in Ghana from the United States, the United Kingdom, and other industrialized nations. Billed as “donations,” these shipments are not gifts. They are refuse. They are the castoffs of a culture addicted to overconsumption and numbed to consequence.

Ghana receives roughly 15 million garments a week, much of it dumped by consumers who believe they’re “doing good” by donating to local bins outside of Walmart or church parking lots. In reality, 40 percent of these clothes are unusable trash, exported to West Africa in bulk and eventually dumped, burned, or strewn across the coastline. Kantamanto Market in Accra, once a center of textile trade and reuse, has become overwhelmed and swamped by low-quality fast fashion designed to fall apart before its first wash.

“We are drowning in your clothing,” said a local vendor in a recent BBC Africa Eye documentary. “These aren’t donations. They are poison.”

This isn’t hyperbole. Synthetic fabrics, often polyester, don’t biodegrade. They clog drains, suffocate marine life, and release microplastics into the ecosystem. Some are so contaminated with dyes and industrial chemicals that simply burning them chokes nearby residents. Because Western brands outsource both the problem and the blame, few Americans ever witness the wreckage.

The Cult of the New

American corporations drive this destruction through a business model of planned obsolescence and psychological manipulation. Fast fashion giants like Shein, Fashion Nova, Boohoo, and H&M churn out hundreds of new styles weekly. And we buy them. On impulse. To feel something. To impress no one. To post once on social media and then forget.

A 2023 Vogue Business investigation reported that the average American throws away 81 pounds of clothing per year. That’s nearly 13 billion pounds of textile waste, most of which is either burned or exported. Out of sight. Out of mind.

The 2024 HBO documentary Brandy Hellville and the Cult of Fast Fashion peeled back the curtain on this global racket, revealing how corporations knowingly flood developing nations with clothing that cannot be sold, recycled, or reused. These companies profit from both ends of the pipeline, selling cheap clothes and then writing off their “donations” for tax breaks.

But in Ghana, the beaches tell the truth. Children walk barefoot through piles of wet fabric. Fishermen cast their nets into waters tangled with discarded bras and sweaters. Clothes meant for dignity now strip the land of its own.

Stop Pretending It’s Helping

The problem is systemic, but it starts at home.

Donating clothes in bins is not inherently virtuous. In fact, it’s part of the illusion. The vast majority of those clothes don’t go to shelters or local families. They are sold in bulk to global brokers who profit off Africa’s environmental misery.

We are not helping. We are offloading guilt.

The solution cannot be just more donation or wishful recycling. It begins with consuming less. Buy intentionally. Wear things longer. Mend. Repurpose. Swap. Or better yet, just don’t buy unless you need to. The world doesn’t need another $9 tee you’ll forget in a week.

And for the clothes that have truly reached their end? Perhaps it’s time to explore municipal incineration, compostable textiles, or clothing deposit programs where manufacturers are held financially responsible for their waste. We regulate plastic straws more than we regulate stores like Forever 21, H&M, and Walmart.

A Final Reckoning

Americans, if we do not change, beaches like Chorkor will disappear, buried under the weight of our vanity and excess. What once were coastal communities tied to fishing, family, and resilience are now becoming textile graveyards. The soil is dying. The water is choking. The air burns with the fumes of our unwanted clothes that takes 200 years to naturally decompose.

This is no longer just about fashion. It’s about justice.

Because let’s be honest: we know who’s responsible.

The responsible parties include: Shein, H&M, Zara, Forever 21, Fashion Nova, Boohoo, PrettyLittleThing, Temu, Target, Walmart, Old Navy, Uniqlo, Gap, Amazon’s in-house brands, and countless Instagram and Tik Tok shops. These corporations flood the global market with billions of garments each year. Their business model thrives on overproduction, cheap labor, and psychological manipulation. They manufacture the illusion of need. They sell you a fantasy of trendiness and self-expression at the cost of someone else’s environment and dignity.

And we, the consumers, buy in. Often literally.

Every impulse buy, every “haul” video, every $5 tee or $10 dress contributes to a planetary cycle of destruction. We wear it once, toss it in a bin, and tell ourselves we did something good by “donating.” But we’re not recycling. We’re relocating the problem. Our discarded clothes are not going to those in need. They’re going to countries like Ghana, Kenya, Chile, and Haiti, nations without the infrastructure to process the sheer volume of waste we produce.

Because the truth is: your closet might be clean, but someone else is paying the price for it.

And they’re paying with their soil, their seas, and their breath.

We need a global reckoning. Not just with corporations, but with ourselves.

Buy less. Buy better. Demand accountability. Push for laws that make brands responsible for the full life cycle of their products.

Until we stop treating clothing as disposable, we will continue to treat people the same way.

Boys play in the sea diving off a pile of clothing found washed up on the beach at Jamestown, Accra(Image: Adam Gerrard / Daily Mirror

For a video documentary, watch:

Ghana: Fast fashion dumping dumping ground

Further Reading and Resources:

Greenpeace Report: Fast Fashion, Slow Poison

HBO Documentary: Brandy Hellville & The Cult of Fast Fashion

AP News Article: Fast fashion waste is polluting Africa

The Guardian: Where does the UK’s fast fashion end up?

The Lingering Shadows of Imperialism: Exploitation of African Nations

As someone who has served in the military, I’ve had firsthand insight into the geopolitical dynamics that still play out across the globe. One particular issue that has always been close to my heart is the persistent exploitation of African nations by former colonial powers and the United States.

Niger, a landlocked country in West Africa, serves as a stark example. It is the source of 5% of the world’s uranium, a precious resource vital for nuclear energy and weapons. Yet, despite its immense wealth beneath the ground, Niger consistently ranks as one of the world’s poorest countries. This incongruity can be attributed to the continued imperialism and exploitative tactics employed by Western nations.

Historically, countries like France and Great Britain have left indelible marks on Africa, ostensibly ending colonization, but in truth, perpetuating a new form of neocolonialism. France, for instance, still exerts considerable economic influence on many of its former colonies, including Niger. Complex agreements and unequal trade dynamics ensure that while African nations supply raw materials, they see only a fraction of the profits.

The United States, though not a colonial power in Africa, has also been implicated in this exploitative dynamic. The establishment of military bases across the continent serves dual purposes: it’s positioned as a safeguard against extremism and other threats, but it also ensures that the U.S. maintains a stronghold to protect its interests, which often include access to natural resources. During my time in the military, it was evident how strategic positioning wasn’t just about national security, but also about economic leverage.

Furthermore, it’s worth noting that while African countries export raw materials, they often have to import finished products at higher prices, further entrenching them in a cycle of poverty. The revenues from these natural resources, like uranium from Niger, do not equitably benefit the local communities. Instead, profits are siphoned off by multinational corporations and corrupt leaders, leaving the general populace grappling with poverty, unemployment, and underdevelopment.

Addressing this exploitation requires a multipronged approach:

  1. Transparency in Trade Deals: International trade agreements involving African nations must be transparent, ensuring that they benefit local communities as much as they do foreign entities.
  2. Empowering Local Economies: Investing in local infrastructure, education, and healthcare can help African nations process their own resources, creating jobs and reducing dependency on imports.
  3. International Accountability: Global institutions, such as the UN, must hold countries accountable for exploitative practices, ushering in a new era of equitable and fair trade.

While the flags of colonial powers no longer fly over African capitals, the shadows of imperialism linger. It’s a collective responsibility, both of African governments and the international community, to dismantle these remnants of exploitation and pave the way for a brighter, more equitable future for the continent. As someone who has seen the intricacies of this exploitation up close, I urge everyone to educate themselves, advocate for change, and support policies that promote fairness and justice.