You probably didn’t wake up today thinking, “I shall lead a revolution using oat milk and biodegradable floss,” but here we are. Welcome to the absurdly powerful world of voting with your wallet—a daily, low-effort form of protest where your receipts are basically mini-political statements. Whether you’re buying from a queer-owned bookstore instead of the mega-chain that lowkey funds conversion therapy, or choosing the artisanal vegan mushroom jerky over big-brand beef biltong, you’re protesting. Softly. Subtly. But definitely.
Let’s be real—most of us are not marching through the streets every weekend. We’re tired. There’s load shedding, your boss is on your case, and someone keeps finishing the peanut butter without replacing it. But we are buying things. All the time. And every time we tap, swipe, or click, we’re sending a little message to the universe (and capitalism): “This is who I support. This is the world I want to fund.”
You might not even realise you’re doing it. That moment you decide to spend R40 extra on shampoo because it’s cruelty-free? Tiny protest. Opting for the small coffee roastery instead of the multinational that allegedly launders vibes and dodges taxes? Lowkey rebellion. Telling Checkers Sixty60 to shove off because your local grocer has that one brand of kale chips you like? That’s resistance, baby.
And then there’s the brands we’ve unsubscribed from. You know the ones. The dodgy ones. The “we just accidentally made racist shirts and somehow do it every season” ones. Or the “our CEO donated to politicians who think women are seasonal décor” brands. We stop buying from them. We don’t burn down their stores. We just stop showing up. And that silence? That’s loud.
In South Africa, we’ve seen the power of collective financial choices. Remember when Woolies raised their prices and everyone swore off their rotisserie chicken for two weeks out of pure spite? Or when local Twitter cancels a franchise and you can feel the PR interns scrambling? Voting with your wallet here hits different—it’s spicy, community-led, and often hilarious.
Even choosing what services we subscribe to is a form of protest. Like, are you giving your coins to that one streaming platform with dodgy labour practices or the one with the chaotic local documentaries about haunted karoo windmills? Every click is a statement. Every debit order a flag.
But it’s not always about brands. Sometimes, it’s about choosing who gets our support on a community level. That’s why you’ll drive an extra ten minutes to get your falafel from that one aunty who remembers your order and calls you “my angel.” That’s why you’ll pay R5 more for a beaded bracelet at the market than order the same thing for less from a sketchy dropship site. Because your wallet has values—even if your Wi-Fi doesn’t.
And don’t get us started on second-hand shopping. That’s not just economic—it’s ideological. Thrifting is the “I won’t fund fast fashion, but I still want to look unreasonably cool and mysterious” move. It’s giving budget-friendly revolution. It’s a ‘no thanks’ to mass production and a ‘yes please’ to that one jacket that smells like a grandmother and rebellion.
It’s also in the food. Veganism, vegetarianism, flexitarianism—whatever -ism you’re on—it’s more than just what you eat. It’s about what you’re not supporting. Industrial meat production? Hard pass. Milk from sad cows? Also no. You’re buying into compassion. Which also tastes like coconut milk and digestive smugness.
Even where you bank, invest, and insure has meaning. You switching to a bank that doesn’t fund fossil fuels or a platform that supports Black-owned businesses? That’s financial activism. You might not feel like an activist while sitting in your pyjamas arguing with a chatbot, but your bank balance says otherwise.
The beauty of all this is that it’s accessible. You don’t have to have a trust fund or a graphic tee that says “fight the system” in Comic Sans. You just need to be a little intentional. Read the label. Check the source. Ask yourself: “Does this brand align with my values, or is it just really good at pretending to care during Pride month?”
Of course, there’s nuance. Not everyone has the financial freedom to always buy ethically, locally, or sustainably. And that’s okay. This isn’t about guilt—it’s about awareness. It’s about doing what you can, when you can, with what you have. Because even small choices can add up. And even if the revolution is slow, at least it’s biodegradable.
So next time you buy toothpaste, book a flight, or choose a streaming platform, remember: your wallet is doing more than just spending. It’s speaking. Loudly. With receipts.
