Fashion Industry Faces the Shipibo-Konibo: The Cultural Appropriation Scandal Everyone’s Talking About
Let’s get one thing straight: the Shipibo-Konibo people aren’t just creating pretty patterns—they’re weaving stories, ancestry, and identity into their textiles. Kené, their sacred art, is deeply tied to their worldview, representing everything from nature’s energy to spiritual beliefs. Think of it as wearable heritage.
According to AP, the intricate designs are painted or embroidered using natural materials sourced from the Amazon, with each pattern telling a unique story about the artist’s community and life. Recognized as a “Cultural Heritage of the Nation” by Peru in 2008, kené isn’t just another trend to slap on your Instagram feed; it’s a living connection to Shipibo-Konibo identity. As artist Sadith Silvano said, “These pieces are sacred. We bless our work with the energy of our songs.”
Anis Samanez at Orígenes 2024: A Moment She’ll Never Forget (for All the Wrong Reasons)
Things got messy during the Orígenes 2024 event in Barranco, Lima, when designer Anis Samanez took the stage to recount her attempt to collaborate with a Shipibo-Konibo community. According to CNN, she expressed shock that the community wouldn’t share their knowledge for free, saying, “They wanted to charge me. I’m Peruvian too; just because I’m from the coast doesn’t make me less Peruvian than them.” Cue the collective eye-roll.
The comment, dripping with entitlement, wasn’t the worst part. José Forteza, editor of Vogue México y Latinoamérica, backed her up with a tone-deaf remark: “If it weren’t for her, they’d still be starving.” Yikes. The backlash was immediate, and not just from the fashion industry. Social media exploded with accusations of cultural exploitation, and Shipibo-Konibo leaders weren’t about to stay silent.
Why the Kené Is Sacred, Not a Freebie
Let’s be clear: the Shipibo-Konibo aren’t gatekeeping their heritage for no reason. Their art isn’t just a vibe; it’s centuries of tradition, technique, and spirituality. Silvano, who has become a prominent voice for the community, told La República, “This is a form of racism and cultural exploitation.”
Creating a single kené piece can take months, using natural pigments from the Amazon and materials that connect directly to their land. According to AP, every design has meaning—a specific story, belief, or ancestral lesson embedded in the pattern. It’s not something you just “borrow” without understanding its significance.
The Fallout: Fashion Industry, Take Notes
Samanez’s casual dismissal of Shipibo-Konibo artistry came at a cost. According to Infobae, Falabella—the retail giant that recently collaborated with her on a collection—pulled her products from stores and slashed prices by over 50% before quietly removing them from its website. Social media didn’t hold back either, with influencers and consumers alike calling her out for perpetuating cultural extractivism.
Her apology didn’t do much to stop the flames. While she claimed her comments were taken out of context, Shipibo-Konibo leaders weren’t having it. Olinda Silvano, a prominent artist, responded, “We are ancestral professionals. If she wants to work with us, she must pay.”
Cultural Appropriation Isn’t a Trend
This controversy highlights a bigger problem: the fashion industry’s habit of romanticizing Indigenous cultures without respecting their rights. Researcher Américo Mendoza Mori, quoted by Infobae, explained how Western intellectual property laws often overlook the collective ownership of Indigenous art, leaving communities vulnerable to exploitation.
But let’s be real—this isn’t just about laws. It’s about shifting mindsets. Collaborations with Indigenous artists need to be partnerships, not one-sided transactions. As Sadith Silvano said, “They see our work as aesthetic, but they don’t understand its meaning.”
