Do the tariffs on tea today remind you of the Boston Tea Party? Because they do for me.

At Cup of Tea, we’re celebrating Black Tea Month, and it feels like the perfect time to reflect on how black tea became part of America’s story — not just as a beverage, but as a symbol of independence and protest.

Tea doesn’t grow in Britain. The tea that filled the cups of colonists in the 1700s came from China, carried across oceans by the British East India Company. Black tea — varieties like Bohea, Congou, and Souchong — was a staple of colonial life, enjoyed in homes, taverns, and social gatherings across the colonies. It was comforting, familiar, and part of a daily routine.

Then came the Tea Act of 1773, which gave the British East India Company exclusive rights to sell tea in the American colonies while keeping an import tax in place. The colonists had no representation in Parliament — no voice in the decisions that affected their lives or livelihoods. This became known as “taxation without representation.” And they’d had enough.

On a cold December night, a group of colonists disguised themselves and boarded three ships in Boston Harbor. They threw 342 chests of Chinese black tea into the water. It was an act of protest — a stand against economic control and the silencing of ordinary people. They weren’t protesting tea itself; they were protesting injustice.

As someone who imports tea today, I feel the echo of that protest. Modern tariffs can raise the cost of tea dramatically — sometimes by 20, 30, or even 50 percent. Those increases don’t just affect what’s on our shelves; they ripple all the way back to the families who grow and process the leaves — families in China, Japan, India, to name a few — who depend on fair and steady trade to make a living.

That’s our modern version of taxation without representation. These decisions are made far away, yet they directly shape the survival of small businesses like mine and the well-being of the farmers who grow the tea we all love. It’s hard not to see the same imbalance that once fueled a harbor full of protest.

Black tea has always been more than a drink. It connects continents and cultures; it weaves together hands and stories from field to cup. It carries history in its leaves — stories of trade, transformation, and resilience.

So yes — the tariffs on tea today do remind me of the Boston Tea Party. They remind me that protest isn’t always about anger; sometimes it’s about care — for fairness, for community, for the people behind what we love.

This Black Tea Month at Cup of Tea, I raise my cup to that spirit — to the courage of those who stood up, to the growers who still do, and to everyone who believes that a simple cup of tea can still make a powerful statement.