“We are haunted by somethings we have been involved in, even they appear foreign, alien, far away, doubly other.” – Avery Gordon, Ghostly Matters: Haunting and the Sociological Imagination
I don’t know how or when it happened, but the knowledge slowly crept up on me that my wardrobe is haunted. For years now, there has always been a sense of unease about it – murmurings that I would ignore or laugh off, like stories of cold children’s fingers brushing your neck as you walked through a forest at midnight. That slightly rueful laugh, I’m sure you’ve heard it.
“Penneys’ finest, probably made in a sweatshop, but sure it was only five euro!” That, or, “Apparently since people complained about it, they’ve rectified everything”. There are ways of acknowledging situations in order to make them disappear – and yet, I felt my garments quiver at their weak seams as I justified their provenance.
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