Commercial Cultural Appropriation

Part 2. Fashion, intellectual property, and human rights

African designs and fashion

African aesthetics have been some of the fashion industry’s most popular go-to sources to draw inspiration for decades. Taking influence and reinterpreting designs while giving proper credit could be done in a manner that might be seen more as appreciation rather than appropriation. On many occasions, however, labels have not taken steps to cross that line but instead have resulted in taking cultural property in an exploitative manner.

Louis Vuitton copied an African Basotho blanket’s design for its 2017 men’s collection. In this case, the designs that were copied had ritualistic meaning for the people of Lesotho, from whom the design originated. Basotho is the ethnic group that most of the population of Lesotho belongs to. The blankets have significance as there are different symbolic meanings behind their designs that relate to different points in life and rites of passage in society. There are specific designs that relate to areas of life, like marriage, the birth of a child, or the transition to adulthood. Some designs are tributes to historical events.

In the spring/summer 2012 Men’s collection, which was presented in June 2011, Louis Vuitton borrowed its designs from the Maasai peoples’ traditional Shuka blanket. The collection included hats, scarves, shorts, and shirts in traditional Maasai designs. The collection was the debut of the new Vuitton designer Kim Jones. It was critically praised, but like many times before, the Maasai people were not attributed or compensated in any way.

The Maasai people’s clothing and other aesthetics, like bead accessories, have been copied into the fashion industry’s use on many other occasions. The Maasai have demonstrated some vocal opposition to this. In 2009 Maasai group organized a two-day presentation on intellectual property and they’ve campaigned on behalf of their intellectual property rights ever since. In 2015, Marisella Ouma, the Former Executive Director of the Kenya Copyright Board, explicitly addressed the protectability of the Maasai’s shuka shawls while speaking at the African Ministerial Conference on Intellectual Property for an Emerging Africa, Dakar, and Senegal. According to Ouma the Maasai’s cultural heritage, including its well-known prints:

do not belong to the public domain and should be recognized as part of intellectual property.

There has been a great effort to gain control over the Maasai brand for the people themselves, and this fight might finally be paying off. In 2018, British label Koy Clothing licensed the Maasai brand. Currently, the brand is selling items that are inspired by Kenyan designs. At least 50 percent of the profits are supposed to go back to the communities.

Maasai people make items for sale, as well as for their own use. Many of the Maasai women support their families with their handcrafts of bead accessories that are sold both globally and locally. Maasai’s brand and aesthetic clearly have demonstrable economic value since they are often exploited. But most of the Maasai live below the poverty line. It does not seem fair in comparison that if any label attempts to paint shoe soles red or replicate the shape of a Birkin bag, Louboutin and Hermès will likely sue that label immediately for a huge sum of damages. Still, African communities who desperately need the revenues that they could gain from their designs are seen as having no legitimate control over their intangible property.

Maasais have tried fixing this by obtaining a trademark for their cultural property. Multiple intellectual property experts have been working with the Maasai to help them with the issue. For the Maasai, as well as many other groups, removing inappropriate images is just as important as financial gain. Respect for the culture is again an important factor here too.

A Washington DC non-profit, Light Years IP, has helped to create the Maasai Intellectual Property Initiative to organize and consult the communities and to push brands to obtain a proper license when they use the Maasai brand in designs. It had been estimated that around 80 labels were infringing the Maasai brand in 2017 when the initiative was set up. They should have been paying licensing fees worth about 10 million US dollars a year.

Taking cultural property from a group becomes increasingly adversary after that group has clearly expressed that it opposes the appropriation. In that case, the appropriation is no longer just inconsiderate or ignorant when done without permission or consultation. It becomes actively antagonistic.

In an earlier incident, designer Matthew Williamson was criticized for copying his spring/summer 2008 collection in 2007. This time designs drew their inspiration from traditional Ethiopian dresses. Two of these dresses in the collection were similar enough to formal Ethiopian dresses that they sparked objection in the community. There was even a statement from the Intellectual Property Office in Addis Ababa, made by Abdurazak Omer, expressing displeasure over the use of the designs. It was stated that the designs were intellectual property that travels from generation to generation and is tightly connected to local identity, religion, and sense of nationality. Claiming them without permission was deemed immoral. The community felt violated over the appropriation of their national dress.

This opposition, and the collective feeling of unfair and unjust conduct, in this incident might be better explained if the economic factor is taken into account. Ethiopia is one the poorest states in the world, and a tailor in Ethiopia, at the time when the disputed collection was presented, made in a month a sum of money that was equivalent to up to 10 British pounds. The dress replica was priced at 895 pounds, and it would have cost only 30 pounds had it been made by one of these Ethiopian tailors. It is understandable that the peoples whose designs and intellectual property is taken feel wronged when they are denied the economic benefits channeled from their cultural expressions and property when the designer or corporation raking in the profits is not part of that culture.

There are, of course, plenty of modern designers in Africa, and that makes it seem more unfair that labels seem to find that there is value in African aesthetics but choose to replica it rather than hire African designers or work in collaboration. International visibility has also been limited, even though there have been many new emerging African designers.

For a while, it looked like the Obama Presidency was on the verge of being able to help African fashion to break into the mainstream. President Obama has Ghanaian descent through his father, and during his Ghana visit in 2009, he honored the visit by commissioning a suit from tailor and fashion designer Ozwald Boateng. Boateng was born and raised in London but draws inspiration from his roots in Ghana in his designs. At this time, it seemed like African designers were finding a more stable standing in the global fashion scene since the New York Fashion Week featured its new African Collective in 2009. The magazines called this explosion of style and culture the ‘Obama Effect,’ thanking the support that Michelle Obama had been showing for up-and-coming young designers.

Things had been quieter on this front for a while, but in 2018 an artist collective with Rosario Dawson as one of the co-founders was able to showcase African artisans in New York fashion week. It was a critical success. One of the purposes of the show was to shift the narrative on African-made goods, showing that buying African artisan work does not need to be considered ‘aid.’ The product themselves have high aesthetic value. In Spring 2020, New York Fashion Week deputed the Emerge! show that showcased eight African designers.

You can read the first part here. The next one will be out in a few days.