Feb 28 Economic Blackout

What if you enjoy it!

Imagine becoming addicted to buying nothing!

Back in the late eighties, there was a great trend of vintage clothing stores owned by individuals. The owners of these funky cool shops would scour the Goodwills and charity shops and find all kinds of clothing that were sometimes high-end, always cool, and at the very least fun. Shopping at these places was cool, it had nothing to do with boxing out corporate America, who would wear a gap t-shirt when they could wear a 60’s T-shirt with an STP logo splashed across the front?

In an era of infinite choice, where everything from a morning coffee to a streaming subscription demands a piece of the paycheck, a quiet rebellion has been brewing—not in protests of Trump, but in the simple act of not buying. Economic boycotts, once the domain of targeted political activism, have been evolving into something far broader: a wholesale rejection of consumer culture itself.

For decades, consumer boycotts have been a tool of political leverage, from the Montgomery Bus Boycott of the Civil Rights era to modern-day refusals to buy from companies with questionable labor or environmental practices. But what happens when people begin boycotting en masse—not just as a statement against injustice, but because they realize they don’t need to buy as much as they thought? Could an economic boycott be a gateway to something far larger—the unraveling of capitalism as we know it?

Corporations like Target are losing a big chunk of business for their ending of DEI policies, while other corporations are more than happy to take up the slack by being of the mindset that includes everyone.

In 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic forced much of the world into an unplanned experiment in minimalism. Supply chain disruptions, business closures, and economic uncertainty made once-routine purchases suddenly seem excessive, even irrelevant. People found themselves cooking at home, rediscovering old hobbies, questioning their reliance on fast fashion and endless Amazon orders. For some, the pandemic was a moment of crisis; for others, it was a revelation.

"I was always on autopilot—buying, consuming, upgrading," says Maria Thompson, a former advertising executive who now leads a community initiative focused on conscious consumption. "Then suddenly, I had to stop. And I realized: I didn’t miss most of it."

The aftershocks of that realization are still reverberating. While retail spending has rebounded post-pandemic, a growing number of people are embracing voluntary consumption limits, not out of necessity, but out of preference. Movements like "Buy Nothing" groups and "slow living" influencers have gained traction, signaling a shift in values that transcends traditional activism.

The peace and tranquility of not chasing stuff is the real reward, spitting the bit of multinational corporations, shopping locally, and not sharing your money or work energy with faceless stockholders who have placed bets on your behavior, like a Kentucky derby racehorse is a beautiful feeling. You’re trained and bred to consume, a lot making a breakthrough and spending a day at the city bocce court with people is kind of wonderful.

A sustained reduction in consumer spending has the potential to reshape global economies. Capitalism thrives on perpetual growth, driven by an ever-expanding cycle of production and consumption. If people opt out—en masse—what happens next?

Imagine if the Feb 28th expands beyond its original target and becomes a lifestyle, companies have to adjust. The world saw glimpses of this during COVID—brands that once thrived on disposable goods had to pivot toward sustainability, repairability, and longevity.

And then there’s the environmental impact. Overconsumption is one of the primary drivers of climate change, with industries from fashion to technology churning out products at unsustainable rates. The less we buy, the less we waste. Could a global culture shift away from consumerism be the climate action governments have struggled to implement?

Beyond economics and ecology, there’s another unexpected consequence of economic restraint: peace of mind. The mental load of constant consumer choice—what to buy, where to buy it, whether it's ethical—can be exhausting. Some who have embraced economic boycotts describe it as a form of liberation.

I find the less I buy, the less I have to worry about I haven’t stopped purchasing things yet, but I am buying a whole lot less. Being raised in poverty I’m lucky I don’t have the urges to make impulse purchases, no clutter, no decision fatigue. I feel lighter. This is not for everyone, but it can be modified and where at least a little less becomes more, more time with family, more time daydreaming, relaxing, or just going for a walk.

Could this widespread relief from the pressures of consumerism spell the beginning of the end for capitalism? While the system is deeply entrenched, history has shown that economic models are not immutable. Feudalism gave way to mercantilism, which evolved into industrial capitalism. If a critical mass of consumers simply stops consuming, the system, as during the covid pandemic change on a dime.

It is important to note Capitalism isn’t just about production—it’s about demand, If demand shifts fundamentally, the structure that supports it has to evolve.

If boycotts become lifestyles, and lifestyles become culture shifts, where does that leave the future economy? America could catch up with other countries and see a transition toward cooperative models, localism, and economies based on repair, reuse, and reciprocity rather than endless acquisition. Throughout Europe, I’ve seen where small villages and cities know where every dollar goes. Consumption on a national level is a sin and buying stuff from multinational corporations is too heinous to imagine, they don’t have their own currencies, but they certainly know where their local dollars go.

The Patagonia clothing company offers a consumer alternative while funneling revenue into environmental protection. Every piece of clothing they produce is guaranteed for life, they repair and offer a worn wear line, and anything that can’t be saved is turned into baby clothing. They are prosperous selling less in a world where fashion is well fascist.

We’ve been conditioned to believe that to participate in society, we must consume, But what if we participated in other ways? What if the real revolution isn’t in what we buy, but in what we refuse to buy? What if we ran background checks on corporations, the information is out there, but what if we stuck to it? Making choices with the people’s chainsaw of the wallet, not Musk’s bejeweled cartoon one.

Perhaps, as COVID-19 taught us, we never really needed to consume as much as we thought. Perhaps the future isn’t in the next purchase but in the absence of one.

On February 28, thats this Friday the "Economic Blackout Day" Organized by The People's Union USA, this protest urges consumers to halt spending at major chains, fast food restaurants, and gas stations for 24 hours. The goal? To send a powerful message against corporate greed and systemic issues, particularly targeting companies that have rolled back Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) policies following recent executive orders from President Donald Trump

Economic Blackout Day has gained significant traction on social media, resonating with a populace frustrated by the current administration's policies and the influential role of figures like Elon Musk. Musk, serving as an adviser and head of the newly formed "Department of Government Efficiency," recently issued an email demanding federal workers justify their jobs under threat of dismissal—a move that has sparked widespread protests and petitions, among a number of illegal moves by an illegitimate government.

In San Francisco, for instance, protests outside the city's only Tesla dealership have become a frequent sight. Demonstrators express their frustration with Musk's influence and recent power moves within the federal government, spurred by Trump's policies.

This boycott exemplifies how economic restraint can serve as a form of political dynamics, challenging not only corporate practices but also the very structures of power and governance. Wouldn’t it be amazing if this political protest became widespread and the economic boycott catalyzed a reevaluation of our societal and economic systems? There are some merits to small c capitalism, but and as Pee-wee Herman said “There is always a big butt” An unbridled multinational corporate monolith, consumers born to feed the beast, make shareholders happy, has led to misery, and destroyed the environment.

As February 28 (Friday) approaches, let’s see whether this act of collective non-consumption will mark a turning point not only politically but—a moment when consumers, by choosing not to buy, begin to reshape the world much like the unforeseen impacts of a global pandemic once did.

Thanks for reading as always