The Hidden Cost of Convenience by Hanya Kotb

I never expected a pair of AirPods to make me question global capitalism, geopolitics, and the ethics of modern consumerism. But here I am, walking through the narrow alleys of Venice, late to class, popping them into my ears —again— and thinking about how much these tiny pods represent a complex web of human labor, environmental cost, and political tension.

They were not even mine to begin with. A friend from Canada gave them to me after getting the latest model. His mom got them both through her job, part of the perks companies use to justify corporate excess. I did not pay a dime, yet I cannot help but feel complicit in the damage they represent.

Designed in California, assembled in Vietnam, these AirPods have travelled more than I have— starting in a U.S. office, built by Vietnamese workers, shipped to Canada, and now living in my pocket in Italy. I recently looked up why they were made in Vietnam and not China. Turns out, Apple shifted production due to geopolitical tensions— tariffs, trade wars, and fears of China’s growing global power. Vietnam is the new “neutral ground.”

But neutrality for whom? Apple, the world’s first trillion-dollar company, still pays Vietnamese workers bare minimum wages. They face long hours, exhausting labor, and little protection. Just like the Chinese workers before them. And this isn’t unique to electronics. Think of cobalt mining in the Democratic Republic of Congo, where children work in dangerous conditions to extract minerals for the batteries in our phones and electric cars. Forced evictions, environmental damage, and human rights abuses are the norm.

Coming from Egypt, I cannot help but see the parallels. Africa and the Middle East have always borne the brunt of exploitation—first by colonial powers, now by corporations. It is heartbreaking to see the same cycle play out, just under a shinier, tech-savvier banner.

If my AirPods could talk, they would have stories darker than mine— of children in mines, families losing their homes, factory workers in faraway countries working themselves to the bone. All for a product that’s easy to lose, easy to replace, and will outlive my decomposing body by centuries.

Yet here I am, loving them. They make my day-to-day life easier— I use them to call my mom, attend meetings, and listen to music. That’s the contradiction: I depend on something built on suffering. But isn’t that true of most things we consume?

I have been trying to live more sustainably: buying secondhand, avoiding fast fashion, and choosing necessity over trend. But ethical consumption often comes with a high price tag. As a broke student, what are my options?

I don’t hate my AirPods. I hate the system that created them. And I hate how numb we have become to it all.

So no, this is not a call to boycott AirPods, or any of your most valuable commodities. It is a call to wake up. To ask more questions. To understand that the things we use every day are never just things. They’re artifacts of human stories—of labor, loss, resilience, and exploitation.

We are all connected, whether we like it or not. And if we do not start paying attention to that interconnectedness, we are not just heading toward disaster. We are already in it.