Shein Leverages U.S. Influencer Culture To Shape Narrative About Fast Fashion—and China

U.S. lawmakers and fashion influencers have something in common: an interest in the Chinese ultrafast fashion brand Shein, which was valued last year at more than Zara and H&M combined.

U.S. representatives behind the 2021 Uyghur Forced Labor Prevention Act, which aims to prevent products made with forced labor in Xinjiang from entering the U.S. market, wrote a letter to the Biden Administration in April laying out their concerns that the law was being insufficiently implemented, specifically with regard to Shein. The letter came after an unnamed group of “like-minded individuals and businesses” in Washington, D.C. released a website called Shut Down Shein, which alleges (among other things) that the company “uses slave labor to pick cotton in China.”

Members of the fashion community are having their own exchanges about whether Shein is a Chinese Communist Party weapon, an anti-sustainability enabler of labor abuses or a low-cost retailer that makes clothes for all Americans, whatever their size or budget. In addition to its hypercompetitive prices, which Bloomberg has tied to forced labor, Shein’s success comes as a result of its direct-to-consumer model, which relies on influencer content. The company’s charm offensive also includes a weekly video series designed to win back customers’ trust in the wake of the rights abuses allegations made against the company.

The online debate has heated up in recent weeks after a group of fashion influencers were invited by Shein to attend a brand trip to Guangzhou. The influencers who attended the trip include Dani Carbonari (@danidmc), Marina Saavedra (@marinasaavedraa) and Destene Sudduth (itsdestene_), who had positive things to say about the company—and about China.

In a video describing the trip, Carbonari directly addressed what she considers to be unfair attacks on the company’s reputation. “I think my biggest takeaway from this trip is to be an independent thinker; get the facts; and see it with your own two eyes,” she said. She then addressed the dominance of hawkish views on all things related to China. “There’s a narrative fed to us in the U.S. and I’m one that always likes to be open-minded and seek the truth,” she said. “So I’m grateful for that about myself and I hope the same for you guys.”

Her gratitude is representative of a trend wherein some influencers attempt to counter the pervasive negativity of the internet by focusing on positive things and thoughts. This is especially true for marginalized creators, which include plus-sized influencers like Carbonari.

“Being a plus sized influencer means being constantly ridiculed for being fat,” said Kiera Wilson, a cultural writer and graduate student in intermediality at the University of Edinburgh. Many creators who are regularly criticized for their weight or appearance have cultivated a body-positivity movement, which Wilson says has trickled into a general positivity movement.

That “positivity” can show up in attempts to promote Shein, like when creators post unboxing videos of their hauls with voiceovers describing their evolution in self love. In other instances, creators might post fun-loving photos of themselves with positive captions and simply tag the brand. But persistent positivity is not reserved for the influencers of the fashion world. In China, the term “positive energy“—originally popularized organically by social media users—has been co-opted by Xi Jinping to promote content that comports with CCP policies and narratives. Its unclear definition gives it a boundless relevance when it comes to state control of online discourse in China. The Shein influencers’ videos would have a high chance at passing the positive energy censorship test—not exactly a badge of honor if one’s goal is to be truthful.

On the China trip, the group of influencers were ostensibly attempting, among other things, to correct the record for a company that has been accused of serious human rights abuses to their many thousands of followers—in the name of positivity and gratitude. In exchange, they were taken on a free and, based on the content they posted, luxurious trip to Guangzhou at a time when many people hoping to get into China for work or to see family struggle to get affordable flights to the country.

“The whole influencer economy is based on feeling like the product is second to the lifestyle it exists in. But the lifestyle, or the imagery of it, is the product,” Wilson said. Subtly equating purchases with positivity and, by extension, happiness is appealing to young and impressionable scrollers-turned-shoppers.

When influencer content also includes factory tours and unsubstantiated claims that China’s human rights abuses are overblown, the consequences can be bigger than putting followers in a good mood. Creators are aware that many of their followers are young people who may have limited context on these issues and who rely on social media to get their news. (The American Press Institute found that 74% of Gen Z get their news from social media on a daily basis.)

A teenager who wants to be a loyal fan might absorb and repeat the narrative that Shein is being unfairly attacked, which is nefarious enough given the credible claims that the company engages in problematic practices with repercussions for health, sustainability and labor rights. But they may also take it a step further, absolving the Chinese leadership of its proven and potential human rights abuses because they just don’t have an appetite for pessimism. The U.S.-China relationship carries more global salience than any other single foreign policy issue; online campaigns that help dull the critical thinking skills of America’s youngest and future voters—even as an unintended byproduct—should be rectified.

The backlash to the Shein trip centered on arguments that the company was clearly putting on a show for the group in an attempt to bolster its reputation, particularly ahead of its expected U.S. initial public offering. Some commentators described themselves as having direct experience visiting Chinese clothing factories and said the factory the group visited was clearly “fake”—designed to look good and not indicative of conditions in other factories.

Members of the fashion community who are against fast fashion on environmental or social grounds (forced or underpaid labor chief among them) weighed in on the Shein trip. “I’ve never said that people should boycott all Chinese-made goods,” tweeted Menswear writer Derek Guy. “I’ve only said that people should buy things they’ll cherish and wear for years. Things that are made with respect for workers and have a low impact on the environment. This is not $5 polyester stuff from Shein.”

Post by post, influencers are helping to shape the next generation of voters’ opinions on a range of issues. The Shein debacle shows that China policy is one of them. If the mood on China in Washington is to a degree “dangerous groupthink” in a hawkish direction, glitzy videos of automated and purportedly ethically run factories posted by beloved influencers can help cultivate a sense that the entire American narrative is wrong, and China is being unfairly characterized across the board. That alternative extreme is also dangerous.