On April 24 2013, Rana Plaza—a garment factory—collapsed just outside Dhaka, Bangladesh. 1,129 workers were killed. Most of them were making clothes for North American manufacturers. The day before the collapse, inspectors had  responded to a complaint of a "cracking sound," but the factory owner to whom they reported ignored their warning. Mothers, daughters, fathers and sons went to work the next day unaware of the danger, being paid a pittance to make our clothes. 

This year my Los Angeles-based all-girls school changed its uniform supplier to Lands' End, whose uniforms were supposed to be comfier than the ones we wore in previous years. Some girls (especially us Seniors) complained about the sudden change, while others looked forward to a fabric that felt nicer on their skin. These were our privileged conversations and complaints. Lucky us. 

Cut back to Bangladesh, where a girl deprived of an education sews the school logo onto the t-shirt that will be shipped to me. I learn in the shirt she has made for me, while she sews instead of learning. The Lands' End "Made in Bangladesh" tag burns a hole in the back of my neck.

Bangladesh isn't the only manufacturing center for my Lands' End school items: I have tags labeled "Cambodia," "Vietnam," "China," and more. You're only making my voice louder.

That's why I'm petitioning Lands' End to move its clothing production out of any country that fails U.S. safety standards and humanitarian norms. It must expand its highly publicized 2012 "Made in the USA" collection to include the production of school uniforms.