The idea for Brewgooder came from a basic realisation I’d had in my early twenties; that the world was a deeply unfair place for far too many.
In 2012 I was given the chance to volunteer in Nepal, but while there I contracted a parasite after drinking water that had been contaminated. I flew home and was able to access the NHS, a service my mum had devoted her entire working life to. Within days I was on the mend, but I also couldn't stop thinking about how differently things could have turned out.
For someone without access to basic resources like safe water or healthcare, an illness like mine could have been fatal. But I had received treatment, made a full recovery and could crack on with my life. The difference between those two possible outcomes was entirely down to circumstances I’d had no influence on: where I was born and raised, the resources available to me and the privileges that came with them.
It made me realise just how much of our future is shaped before we get any say in it. And this isn't all down to chance. The systems and structures that shape our world have established and reinforce these inequalities, concentrating power, resources and opportunity in the hands of a privileged few while leaving others with far less.
As a naive 22-year-old fresh out of university, I was determined to do something about that. I didn't want to accept that this was just how the world had to work. I applied for every government and international development job I could find, hoping to turn a desire for a fairer system into something tangible. But I was swiftly rejected by every single one.
I ended up working for a small Edinburgh business called Social Bite, a sandwich shop that became a pioneer of social business in Scotland through its work tackling homelessness. The job was defining for me. It opened my eyes to the role companies could play in creating meaningful change, beyond the work of governments and NGOs. It showed me that the way things are, isn't necessarily the way they have to be, and that businesses could genuinely shape the world into something better.
During that time, as with most people my age, I'd come to recognise the social power of beer: how it brought people together around the world, on all sorts of occasions, and how something as simple as buying someone a drink could be an expression of compassion, generosity and friendship.
But I couldn't find a beer brand that really spoke to my values, or one that seemed interested in using that social power to do anything beyond making profit. I wanted to build something different: a values-led beer company that could bring people together around a shared belief in a fairer world, while using its platform to help make that world a reality; supporting communities, creating opportunity and challenging the structures and inequalities that held people back.
I remember talking about it with someone who’d asked me, “If you were going to do it, what would you call it?” and I just remember saying “You’d call it Brewgooder.” Once I had the name I was committed. I just needed to learn how to brew.
