Awareness is pointless without some sort of action.

Really, it is. Like most of my peers on Tuesday, I saw many (well, several) people walking around campus without shoes on. Ignoring the obvious hygienic problems, I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the point of it all was. I mean, I know the actual premise – that it was TOMS One Day Without Shoes, and that these people were hoping upon hope that I, or anyone else for that matter, would walk up and ask them just why exactly they weren’t wearing shoes.

Except I didn’t, and throughout the day I didn’t see anyone else ask either. In fact, when I decided to write my column about this topic I spoke to various classmates about their feelings regarding UA students walking around campus without shoes. Many knew, but perhaps most curious is that those who didn’t know said they didn’t bother to ask.

(On a side note, did it ever occur to anyone that by organizing one specific day to forgo shoes, and publicizing that day, that everybody not participating would already be aware of why people weren’t wearing shoes?)

Allow me to be blunt: TOMS One Day Without Shoes seems to be more self-serving than actually charitable. It strikes me as a day that people can do something exceedingly simple with absolutely no personal sacrifice, and then at the end of the day crawl into bed happy and under the impression that somehow their shoeless trotting made life better in third-world countries.

By now I’ve no doubt made many (well, several) people angry, so let me clarify a few things. First, I love TOMS. I do not personally own a pair, but I think it is fantastic that the company donates a pair of shoes for every pair sold. I love the people who buy TOMS, whether for comfort or style or for the sole purpose of providing someone somewhere with a pair of shoes. And, admittedly, I do think they are attractive shoes in their own, minimalist way.

What I don’t like is TOMS One Day Without Shoes—or at least its execution. Reading the article in The Crimson White recapping the event, every single person quoted only spoke about raising awareness. One person even went so far as to say that she has “to choose between several dozen pairs of shoes” and she forgets “that some people would be ecstatic to have just one pair of shoes.”

This quote—this exact statement—is what infuriates me about the nature of this event. Did any one of you who participated in One Day Without Shoes say to yourself, “Why don’t I take one (or more) of these several dozen pairs of shoes I own and donate it?”

Was this even coordinated with a shoe drive? Or are citizens of third-world countries only allowed to wear TOMS? Frankly, while I’ve heard many testimonials about how comfortable TOMS are, I’m pretty sure the ASICS and Puma running shoes I donated last month will probably be more appreciated than what essentially amounts to a foot wrap with a pad on the bottom.

(On the off chance that there was a shoe drive, congratulations — nobody knew about it.)

Hell, the T-shirts I donated last week to a Japan relief effort will probably be of more comfort to someone in need than the knowledge that somebody somewhere spent one whole day not wearing shoes only to walk back into his or her dorm, take a hot shower for twenty minutes, and climb into bed between $200 sheets congratulating his or herself on a job well done.

While I don’t want to call into question the altruism of TOMS (like I said, I do admire what the company is about), the way One Day Without Shoes is handled strikes me as nothing but a stunt to get people to buy more TOMS. And while yes, buying TOMS means someone in need gets a pair of shoes, that same person could get a pair of better quality, longer lasting shoes if someone were to simply donate a gently worn pair (or several dozen, as the case may be) of higher quality shoes.

How did we determine that consumption is somehow a better route for charity than actual sacrifice?

I can’t fix the need for blood by walking around with an open wound; likewise, I can’t fix the need for shoes by walking around barefoot. What I can do to help both of these causes is realize that because I have been blessed with a healthy body and an ample supply of shoes it is my obligation to help those that are in need.

I choose to be charitable because it is the right thing to do, not because it’s some twisted fashion statement like One Day Without Shoes.

John Davis is a junior majoring in serious business.