The hashtag #crystalhealing appears over 12 million times on Instagram. Search the term on TikTok and you’ll quickly unearth “certified crystal healing practitioners” discussing how various crystalline solids are endowed with magical healing properties: coping with grief, clearing negative energy, and ensuring “abundance” among the top results.
Like many “healing modalities” in wellness, the idea that crystals have healing properties relies on a metaphysical assumption: the “energy” in the crystal will somehow transfer “energy” into you, the human.
As with most spiritual philosophies, the reality is much dirtier. As the Wall St Journal reports, real people have to mine those crystals. It’s quite dirty work. Much of the American crystal economy relies on the backbreaking labor of Africans who risk their lives for poverty-level pay. Potential risks of crystal mining include tunnel collapse, asphyxia, free fall, or flooding.
One especially popular (according to acolytes, “potent” and “powerful”) crystal is cactus quartz, which can sell for upwards of $40,000. WSJ spoke to one South African miner, Linki Mugidi, who mines for that particular crystal.
She earns an average of about $4 a day digging for cactus quartz, also known as spirit quartz or fairy quartz, though that depends on how much of the mineral she finds. She digs for around 10 to 12 hours a day and takes just one Sunday off each month.
This isn’t the first exposé into the dark side of crystal mining. In 2019, The Guardian investigated crystal mining in Madagascar, one of the poorest countries on the planet.
Despite its volatile economy and the exploitation of the nation’s natural resources, Madagascar is rich in large rose quartz deposits. They happen to be in rural areas, where 80% of the population lives below the $1.90-a-day poverty line.

Sadly, conditions are even graver on the island nation than on mainland Africa.
Landslides are not the only danger for miners. Smashed rocks create fine dust and quartz particles can penetrate deep into the lungs. There, they fester, inflaming surrounding cells, increasing the risk of lung cancer and silicosis. Child labour is also widespread: the US Department of Labor and the International Labour Organization estimate that about 85,000 children work in Madagascar’s mines.
I’ve written about the contradictions of the crystal industry before: the spiritual yearnings of a predominantly white and wealthy population supported by slave-like (and sometimes actual slave labor) conditions. I’ve received replies about “fair trade” and “certified” crystals, implying that no slave labor was involved. Though crystal mining is a global phenomenon, as the WSJ reports, it’s a largely unregulated industry. Guaranteeing the origins of crystals remains challenging.

The payment for crystals, which is relatively low compared to the exorbitant rates charged in New Age tchotchke shops, is often based on weight, not color or type. This means the most expensive crystals are purchased for the same price as relatively inexpensive varieties. Thus, workers receive none of the upside of discovering a rare gem.
Even more tragically, demand is up to the whims of the suppliers of these self-proclaimed witches and warlocks.
Lucky Chauke, a 34-year-old freelance miner who was born in Boekenhouthoek, says waiting for buyers is worse than the punishing work to extract the crystals. No one has come for two weeks, he says. “We are running out of food.”
Crystal healing has long encapsulated the paradox of spirituality: a pseudoscientific ideology turning a blind eye to the ugly reality of slave labor and poverty.
Once again, waxing poetic about energy healing for TikTok attention capture trumps the lived experience of people putting their lives in danger to support a whimsical fantasy.
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