The Ethical Consumer Paradox: Why We Say One Thing and Buy Another

52% of Shein Shoppers say they're 'environmentally conscious'

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Last weekend I posted one of my favorite recipes on Instagram. It solves the age old question - ‘What on earth do I do with half a cabbage?’ You know, besides letting it languish in the crisper drawer for a month.

I used this post to promote my recent book 101 Tips for a Zero Waste Kitchen. The book includes not only what to do with leftover cabbages, but your carrot tops, onion peels, lemon peels, and so much more etc.

It’s essentially a handbook on how to eliminate food waste in your kitchen with proper planning techniques and delicious recipes. (A book, I think is pretty handy especially given today’s grocery prices)

The post did pretty well with almost 1,500 people asking for a link to the book. The click through rate from my DM to bookshop.org is 29%.

But, did most people use bookshop to buy my book? Nope. The majority left that website and purchased the book on…. Amazon. And look, it was $2 cheaper. They probably got free shipping.

But, is that what we’re willing to sell our values for?

I’m just constantly perplexed by how many people say they want sustainability. Say they’re willing to pay more for an ethical and sustainable product. Say they want better business practices, but when it comes down to it - the data says they won’t actually buy.

an ethical consumer paradox?

What makes this conversation especially interesting is the fundamental disconnect between how we see ourselves and how we actually behave as consumers.

A new study revealed something shocking about Shein shoppers. The fast fashion giant isn’t primarily serving broke college students - nope, the average Shein shopper is a 35-year-old woman who spends over $100 a month on clothing!

Despite Shein’s well-documented labor violations and sustainability issues, 52% of their customers said they considered themselves to be ‘environmentally conscious’.

And 67% of Shein shoppers said they were willing to pay more for environmentally sustainable goods… but are they?

And this isn’t an isolated example. Research from NYU Stern’s Center for Sustainable Business found that while 65% of consumers say they want to buy from purpose-driven brands that advocate sustainability, only about 26% actually do so.

First Insight’s 2022 consumer research showed that while 73% of consumers list sustainability as an important factor in purchasing decisions, most aren’t willing to pay even a 10% premium for sustainable products.

So why do we have this disconnect? And is there anything we can do about it?

I think there are several layers worth unpacking…

the friction of ethical consumption

When we make purchases, we’re not just buying products - we’re navigating complex systems of convenience, habit, and incentives. Each ethical purchase requires overcoming multiple forms of friction:

1. Information friction: Researching whether a company actually lives up to its ethical claims takes time and effort

2. Convenience friction: Ethical alternatives often require more steps or planning (like ordering from specialized websites like a climate-neutral bookstore instead of one-click / “free” shipping Amazon purchases)

3. Price friction: The "true cost" pricing of ethical goods often means paying more upfront

4. Social friction: Swimming against the mainstream requires mental energy and sometimes social explanation

Each of these friction points requires conscious effort to overcome. And in a world where we make countless purchasing decisions weekly, maintaining that level of consciousness for every choice is exhausting.

the perfect ethical consumer

Perhaps part of the problem is that we’ve created an impossible standard. The ideal ethical consumer in our minds:

• Researches every purchase thoroughly

• Always chooses sustainability over convenience

• Never succumbs to impulse purchases

• Has unlimited time and mental bandwidth for consumption decisions

• Can afford ethical alternatives in every category

This mythical person doesn’t exist. Not even among the most dedicated sustainability advocates. Not even me.

I still occasionally order takeout. I still buy groceries that come in packaging. I’m always making compromises based on time, budget, and what’s realistically available.

The myth of the perfect ethical consumer doesn’t just create guilt - it creates a false dichotomy where we’re either ‘ethical consumers’ or we’re not. This all-or-nothing thinking makes it easy to give up entirely when we inevitably fall short.

the limits of individual consumer action

There’s also something deeper at work in our collective psyche: the uncomfortable realization that individual purchasing choices, while important, can’t solve systemic problems alone.

Some people have argued that if we focus on individual consumption as the primary lever for change , it can actually distract from more impactful collective action like policy change, labor organizing, and corporate accountability campaigns.

I definitely think the solution is ‘yes, and’ because I mean just look at how our environmental policies being absolutely crushed right now.

But this creates yet another paradox - we want our individual choices to matter deeply, but we also sense their limitations, which can breed a kind of resigned fatalism about our choices.

So what does all this mean for those of us trying to align our values with our spending? Here’s a few of my thoughts.

1. embrace imperfect action

Rather than aiming for ethical consumption perfection, we might be better served by focusing on consistent improvement and picking our battles.

Maybe that means prioritizing ethical choices in categories we purchase most frequently or that have the biggest environmental impact.

2. create systems to reduce decision fatigue

One reason Amazon succeeds is that it removes decision friction. What if we created similar systems for ethical consumption? This might look like:

• Setting up automatic deliveries from ethical brands we trust

• Creating bookmarks for ethical alternatives to make them as accessible as major retailers

• Establishing personal policies (“I always buy books from independent bookstores”) rather than deliberating each purchase anew

• Following and supporting creators who do a lot of that leg work for you (hello!)

3. value transparency over perfection

As a content creator, maybe perfect ethical consistency isn’t as valuable as honest transparency?

Maybe the most helpful thing I can do isn’t to present myself as having all the answers, but to share my own struggles, compromises, and evolving thinking about these issues.

4. recognize the power of collective action

While individual purchasing decisions absolutely matter, they matter most when they’re part of collective shifts.

Supporting campaigns for better labor practices, environmental regulations, and corporate accountability might ultimately create more change than perfectly curating our personal consumption.

my own dilemma…

When I started Going Zero Waste, I thought the path forward was clear: identify the most ethical choices and make them consistently. And while that’s still a great goal, after doing this for over a decade, I realize ethical consumption is more complex, more nuanced, and more challenging than I initially understood.

Being an ‘ethical consumer’ isn’t a fixed identity you achieve - it’s an ongoing practice of awareness, imperfect action, and continual learning. It’s not about purity but about progress.

Some days, that means celebrating when we make a purchase that aligns with our values. Other days, it means acknowledging that convenience, cost, or accessibility led us to make a different choice.

It means resisting the urge to judge ourselves too harshly while still striving to do better. And I wrestle with this tension constantly.

Circling back to my book, 101 Tips for a Zero Waste Kitchen. I genuinely believe in supporting Amazon alternatives like Bookshop.org, which is climate-neutral, gives back to local bookstores, and provides an affiliate program for creators. And yet, the reality is that the majority of people still bought through Amazon even when giving them an easy, sustainable answer.

The pull of Amazon is undeniable - even for me. My editor reminds me that Amazon reviews are crucial for visibility and sales. Its algorithm determines how many people discover my book. And while I want to resist its dominance, I also recognize that for many authors, success depends on playing within that system.

So here’s my question: Should I just start linking to Amazon?

The reality is, if someone is going to buy my book (or anything else) from Amazon anyway, linking there means I’d at least receive a small commission - money that could go directly back into creating more sustainability-focused content.

As an eco-friendly creator, funding my work is already more challenging because I actively turn down sponsorships that don’t align with my values. So does it make sense to take that Amazon cut, knowing it helps sustain this work? Or is that just giving in to a system I’ve spent years pushing against?

I’d love to hear your thoughts: Do you think it’s better to hold the line or should I also offer an amazon link option since they’re most likely to shop there anyway?

And this isn’t just a theoretical debate. It’s something I’m genuinely wrestling with, and I’d love your perspective. Let me know in the comments. ❤️

all my love,
Kathryn

P.S. If you’ve read my book, would you consider reviewing it on Amazon or Good Reads? My aforementioned editor would really appreciate it.