Netflix is presently showing a documentary entitled 9to5: The Story of a Movement. This documentary traces the development of the 9 to 5 social movement that began foregrounding unfair working conditions for women office workers in the United States (initially in Boston) in the early 1970s. This movement was the inspiration for the 1980 comedy of the same name (which holds up pretty well and, sadly, is still topical, 40 years later).
One of the narrative arcs of the film explores how the 9 to 5 movement transitions from a social movement into a union (Local 925) as the workers sought to formalize and entrench the gains they had made. This includes following a union organizing campaign (in Cincinnati I think, but it may have been Seattle) through an initial defeat and subsequent victory. It also examines how the attack on labour by US business and government in the 1980s affected Local 925.
John Oliver recently did an interesting piece on working conditions in meat-packing plants. These working conditions are broadly similar to those in Alberta plants.
These conditions are an important factor in the repeated outbreaks of COVID at these plants. Close proximity, relentless pace, and no breaks are pretty common. Workers get injured often and seriously and receive inadequate medical care. Many workers are vulnerable workers, whose residency in the country may be at risk if they get fire. Others have few options for comparable jobs.
Alberta’s response to COVID outbreaks in meatpacking plants have basically been ineffective (kind of like Alberta’s broader response to COVID). Which is why we’ve seen outbreaks in plants High River, Calgary, Red Deer, and Brooks. The High River outbreak was one of the largest outbreaks in Canada. Workers and their family members have died. There has been community spread due to ineffective workplace controls.
Ng documents several instances of militancy among these workers, including a strike to protest and resist head tax collection in Victoria in 1878, efforts to reduce working hours and improve wages in laundries in 1906 and kitchens in 1907 and the formation of various Chinese unions.
Of particular interest is Ng’s discussion of co-operation between Chinese and White shingle-worker unions. Employers used Chinese workers to suppress wages and the more privileged white workers recognized in 1917 that they needed the support of Chinese workers to make progress. Ng’s translation of Chinese-language newspaper coverage demonstrates the savvy of the Chinese workers. Several strikes ensued to resist wage rollbacks and increase compensation.
Ng also chronicles Chinese workers mobilizing against racist relief programs during the Great Depression. This history challenges conventional historical views about Chinese workers as docile and strikebreakers. Overall, this is a very good read, particularly for students in LBST 325.
If you are looking for an interesting historical dramatization to fill you winter evenings, Amazon Prime is presently offering Good Girls Revolt, a 10-episode miniseries set in 1969 and 1970 at Newsweek Magazine.
Amazon cancelled the show after one season. But what a season it was! The show is based upon a book the chronicles a sex discrimination lawsuit by female researchers at Newsweek. The researchers are exploited horrendously, often being more qualified and better writers than the male reporters, but paid a fraction of their wages and denied credit.
The most interesting part of the show is how it documents what is essentially an organizing campaign by the women to assert their rights. I can’t think, off hand, of another mainstream series that follows an organizing campaign over time. Usually collective action is framed as spontaneous or the result of a long-standing power base.
In Good Girls Revolt, we get to see a group of workers create a new power base in a workplace. This includes recognizing and articulating their interests and how they differ from the interests of other workers (the men). It also engages how race and class can affect solidarity within a group. The character’s flaws and mis-steps are also realistically portrayed.
A few weeks back, the final report from the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Woman and Girls was released. While I haven't finished reading the report yet, Volume 1a contains two sections of particular interest to human resource and labour relations.
The first section is a deep dive into the relationship between resource-extraction projects and violence against Indigenous women and children (starting on page 584). The report specifically examines the impact of transient (or migrant) workers on receiving communities and their citizens as well as workplace harassment, shift work, additions and economic insecurity. The nub of it is that the structure of employment associated with these projects creates and/or amplifies negative consequences for Indigenous women and children.
The second section is a deep dive into the sex industry (starting on page 656), in which Indigenous women and girls are often participants. This section does a nice job of capturing the nuances of sex work and the impact Canada’s colonial legacy has on the dynamics of sex work. It also highlights the importance of an intersectional analysis when examining how individuals experience sex work.
This case study of Wabasca “focuses on the lived experiences of Indigenous working families in the oil industry and how working conditions impact families and gender relations” (p. 1).
This study remedies the lack of attention paid by researchers to the economic, employment, or other benefits (and the tradeoffs among them) involving Indigenous communities and the gendered nature of these experiences.
The authors draw a number of conclusions and raise some very thought-provoking questions:
Interviews demonstrated that individuals working in the oil industry have experienced gender and racial discrimination at and related to work. At the same time, Indigenous companies have been able to carve out space in what has been an industry primarily dominated by non-Indigenous people. (p. 20)
The oil industry’s boom-bust cycle and the pressures of capitalism can bring significant imbalance and disruption to communities, as described here. However, through relationality in the community, specifically paid and unpaid caring work that is largely performed by women, the community works to establish balance. The industry itself may foster and exploit women’s engagement in this type of care work through its very structure and practices that create barriers and deterrents for women and ultimately reduce their participation in the higher-paying oilfield jobs. (p. 20)
Some interviewees have internalized hegemonic racist stereotypes and narratives that Indigenous workers lack the drive to move up the labour ladder. At the same time, some workers are conscious of the stereotypes and resist them. These workers, especially Indigenous tradespeople, described the need to work harder than white workers to move up the ladder. (p. 20)
Many Indigenous workers may end up streamed into unskilled labourer positions. The few Indigenous workers that become skilled journeymen or journeywomen sometimes end up being business owners by starting their own contracting companies. Indigenous business owners are a different class than their employees because they are wealthy enough to own some means of production. (pp. 20-21)
Capital is a form of social and economic power that is not necessarily recognized as such. The long-term concern is that capitalist relations will get implanted in Indigenous communities, hooking them into the trans-local practices of ruling that are integral to corporate power (building stronger support for continued extractivism, as business revenue streams come to require it), and dividing the community against itself. From the perspective of miyo-pimatisiwin, how can Indigenous understandings of being relations (“all my relations”), and caring for the collective good be maintained when capitalist structures divide the community by class and individualist approaches impact community relations? (p. 21)
Overall, this is a very useful extension of the significant research done (primarily by University of Alberta scholars) on the social impacts of Alberta’s oil-dependent economy.
This week’s instalment of Labour & Pop Culture is "Spaceship” by Kayne West. This song explores the frustration and desperation of low-wage work, particularly among young African-American men in the United States.
Of particular note is how being systemically discriminated against and economically excluded results in a rejection of the system:
If my manager insults me again I will be assaulting him After I fuck the manager up then I'm gonna shorten the register up Let's go back, back to the Gap Look at my check, wasn't no scratch So if I stole, wasn't my fault
The song also speaks to the experience of tokenism in the workplace:
Yeah I stole, never get caught They take me to the back and pat me Askin' me about some khakis But let some black people walk in I bet you they show off their token blackie Oh now they love Kanye, let's put him all in the front of the store
I couldn’t find a good video by Kayne but I did find this blues-y cover that is pretty good.
[Hook: Kanye West, Tony Williams, John Legend]
I've been workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly (heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night) I've been workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly (heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night)
[Verse 1: Kanye West] Man, man, man If my manager insults me again I will be assaulting him After I fuck the manager up then I'm gonna shorten the register up Let's go back, back to the Gap Look at my check, wasn't no scratch So if I stole, wasn't my fault Yeah I stole, never get caught They take me to the back and pat me Askin' me about some khakis But let some black people walk in I bet you they show off their token blackie Oh now they love Kanye, let's put him all in the front of the store Saw him on break next to the 'No Smoking' sign with a blunt and a malt Takin' my hits, writin' my hits Writin' my rhymes, playin' my mind This fuckin' job can't help him So I quit, y'all welcome (heavens knows) Y'all don't know my struggle Y'all can't match my hustle (every night) You can't catch my hustle (every night) You can't fathom my love dude Lock yourself in a room doin' five beats a day for three summers That's a different world like Cree summers I deserve to do these numbers The kid that made back [aka running back], (heavens knows) Deserves that Maybach So many records in my basement (every night) I'm just waitin' on my spaceship (every night), I've been (blaow)
[Hook: Kanye West, Tony Williams, John Legend] Workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly (heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night) I've been workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly(heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night)
[Verse 2: GLC] Man, I'm talkin' way past the sky Let's go, oh And I didn't even try to work a job Represent the mob At the same time thirsty on the grind Chi state of mind Lost my mama, lost my mind My life, my love (heavens knows) that's not mine Why you ain't signed? Wasn't my time Leave me alone, (every night) work for y'all Half of it's yours, (every night) half of it's mine Only one to ball Never one to fall Gotta get mine Gotta take mine Got a tec-9 Reach my prime Gotta make these haters respect mine In the mall (heavens knows) 'til 12 when my schedule had said 9 (every night) Puttin' new pants on shelves Waitin' paitently (every night) I ask myself Where I wanna go, where I wanna be Life is much more than runnin' in the streets Holla at 'ye, hit me with the beat Put me on my feet Sound so sweet Yes (heavens knows) I'm the same ol' G, same goatee Stayin' low key, nope (every night) Holla at God Man (every night) why'd you had to take my folks? Hope to see Freddy G., Yusef G Love my G, Rolly G Police watch me smoke my weed, and count my G's Got a lot of people countin' on me (heavens knows) And I'm just tryin' to find my peace (every night) Should of finished school like my niece Then I wouldn't (every night) finally wouldn't use my piece, blaow Aw man, all this pressure
[Hook: Kanye West, Tony Williams, John Legend] I've been workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly (heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night) I've been workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly (heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night)
[Verse 3: Consequence] I remember havin' to take the dollar cab Comin' home real late at night Standin' on my feet all damn day Tryin' to make this thing right And havin' (heavens knows) one of my co-workers say Yo you look just like (every night) This kid I seen in the old Busta Rhymes video (every night) the other night Well easy come, easy go How that sayin' goes No more broad service, cars, and them TV shows I all had that snatched from me (heavens knows) And all the faculties all turn their back on me (every night) And didn't wanna hear a rap from me (every night) So naturally actually had to face things factually Had to be a catastrophe with the fridgest starin' back at me Cuz nothing's there, (heaven knows) nothing's fair I don't wanna ever go back there So I won't be takin' (every night) no days off 'til my spaceship takes off (every night) Blaow
[Hook: Kanye West, Tony Williams, John Legend] I've been workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly (heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night) I've been workin' this graveshift and I ain't made shit I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly (heavens knows) past the sky (every night, every night)
[Outro: Tony Williams] I wanna fly, I wanna fly I said I want my chariot to pick me up And take me brother for a ride
Over the past few years, the Alberta Labour History Institute has been collecting the stories of Indigenous workers in Alberta. A number of video interviews are now available online.
The most recent edited set of interviews looks at the role of Metis iron workers in building the CN Tower in Edmonton.
There is also a full transcript of the various interviews available that contains a fair bit more detail.
There are also numerous other interviews available.
At random, I listened to Linda Robinson’s very interesting interview about her experiences on the job as a person with a disability and her experiences with the labour movement.
The crux of the article is that the structural features of the SAWP mean that female workers have difficulty making choices about their bodies and sexuality. These structural factors include “…include precarious legal status, poverty, lack of access to primary care services, limited knowledge of the health care system, and workplace insecurity” (p. 92). Workers' sexuality is also subject to intense surveillance (by both their employers and the state), although this surveillance does not seem to prevent their sexual harassment.
The authors document numerous acts of resistance (e.g., rule breaking, speaking out, various forms of concerted action) as these workers assert their reproductive rights. That said, it is striking how these women’s ability to control their bodies is constrained in a country that, at least theoretically, upholds women’s right to make free choices about sexuality and health care.
Among the strategies advocated by the authors are educating health care providers about the unique power relationship that exists in the SAWP program, ensuring workers can (and now they can) access the public health-care system without undue financial constraint, and severing links between the health-care and immigration systems.
This week’s installment of Labour & Pop Culture is “Links on the chain” by Phil Ochs. This song was originally released in 1965 and is a rebuke to trade unionists who failed to support the civil rights movements.
The song starts by noting that organized labour (which was a powerful force in the 1960s) had to fight for recognition against the forces of the state and employers. Yet, once accepted (more or less), powerful actors declined to support the civil rights movement.
Oh, the black man was a rising fast, racing from the shade And your union took no stand and your union was betrayed
Ochs points out that civil rights activists used many of the same tactics as early labour activists to seek accommodation of their interests. Yet unionists did not act in solidarity, in part because they feared (or were told to fear) for the expansion of the labour pool that equality might bring.
And the man who tries to tell you that they'll take your job away He's the same man who was scabbing hard just the other day And your union's not a union till he's thrown out of the way
This is a very critical song (Ochs opens the song by condemning homophobia… in 1965!) that holds lessons for today’s trade unionists about the importance of solidarity across traditional divisions.
Come you ranks of labor, come you union core And see if you remember the struggles of before When you were standing helpless on the outside of the door And you started building links On the chain, on the chain And you started building links On the chain
When the police on the horses were waiting on demand Riding through the strike with the pistols in their hands Swinging at the skulls of many a union man As you built one more link On the chain, on the chain As you built one more link On the chain
Then the army of the fascists tried to put you on the run But the army of the union, they did what could be done Oh, the power of the factory was greater than the gun As you built one more link On the chain, on the chain As you built one more link On the chain
And then in 1954, decisions finally made Oh, the black man was a rising fast, racing from the shade And your union took no stand and your union was betrayed As you lost yourself a link On the chain, on the chain As you lost yourself a link On the chain
And then there came the boycotts and then the freedom rides And forgetting what you stood for, you tried to block the tide Oh, the automation bosses were laughing on the side As they watched you lose your link On the chain, on the chain As they watched you lose your link On the chain
You know when they block your trucks boys by laying on the road All that they are doing is all that you have showed That you gotta strike, you gotta fight to get what you are owed When you're building all your links On the chain, on the chain When you're building all your links On the chain
And the man who tries to tell you that they'll take your job away He's the same man who was scabbing hard just the other day And your union's not a union till he's thrown out of the way And he's choking on your links Of the chain, of the chai And he's choking on your links Of the chain
For now the times are telling you the times are rolling on And you're fighting for the same thing, the jobs that will be gone Now it's only fair to ask your boys, which side are you on? As you're building all your links On the chain, on the chain As you're building all your links On the chain
This week’s installment of Labour & Pop Culture features “The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll” written by Bob Dylan. The story recounts the 1963 death of an African-American barmaid. She was killed by a wealthy, drunk, and racist white man (and later slumlord) in Maryland and who later served just six months in jail.
It’s comforting to think of the kind of systemic racism that leads to largely unpunished deaths is a think of the past. Yet it clearly isn’t and it remains embedded in employment. Last month, there was an undercover investigation by the Toronto Star into conditions at a North York industrial bakery where three workers have died.
The real surprise here is that only three workers have died. The working conditions are terrible and the plant basically runs by exploiting (often female) immigrants who have few alternatives to earn a living and aren’t likely to exercise (or even know) their safety rights. The company had been dinged for 191 health and safety violations since 1999. The real number of violations is likely to be much higher given the anemic degree of OHS inspection in most Canadian provinces.
As a result of the guilty plea, the Crown withdrew charges against Diaby’s supervisor at the factory, as well as charges related to two other unrelated incidents that occurred at Fiera Foods in October 2015 and June 2016, when workers suffered “critical” arm injuries.
So, basically, pay one fine to avoid prosecution on other charges. I don’t imagine we’ve heard the last of the story about health and safety violations at this bakery. What this tells us is that racism (and sexism) don’t just exist in Canadian employment, but in fact are a structural part of employment. Companies rely upon exploiting vulnerable workers for competitive advantage and will (despite current regulatory efforts) ignore their most basic obligations under law.
I picked this Christy Moore version of the song because I can’t stand Dylan’s voice.
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll, With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin', And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him As they rode him in custody down to the station, And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all fears, Take the rag away from your face, now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years, Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him, And high office relations in the politics of Maryland, Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders, And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling, In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.
But you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all fears, Take the rag away from your face, now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen. She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage, And never sat once at the head of the table And didn't even talk to the people at the table, Who just cleaned up all the food from the table, And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level, Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane That sailed through the air and came down through the room, Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle. And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all fears, Take the rag away from your face, now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel, To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded, And that even the nobles get properly handled Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em, And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom, Stared at the person who killed for no reason, Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'. And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance, William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.
Oh, but you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all fears, Bury the rag deep in your face, for now's the time for your
This week I finally got around to reading a dissertation from the University of Saskatchewan that examines occupational health and safety of Latino migrant farm workers. I’ve been looking forward to reading this for awhile.
Language barriers, personal and cultural factors are identified as factors affecting safety training, with language barriers being identified by virtually every research participant (Latino workers, employers, bureaucrats, Canadian workers) discussing it. This barrier also affects migrant workers’ ability to access health care and causes social isolation, compounding the geographic isolation associated with prairie agriculture. And linguistic barriers can intensify the risk of hazards because workers may not be told about the hazard or control strategies and/or may not understand such information.
The nature of seasonal agricultural work may also be a factor. Such work is often difficulty and unpleasant. It is also often time pressured and hazard control strategies may be only partially implemented or ignored in the face of production pressure. Productivity can become the dominant value of all players—this is certainly something we see in Alberta with farms exempted from many of the work-time constraints that every other workplace must follow.
The researcher also considered aspects of the labour mobility programs that allow these workers to enter Canada. Specifically, labour mobility regimes may reinforce the focus on productivity at the expense of other considerations. Workers in such programs are profoundly vulnerable to their employers and resistance can result in being sent home or not rehired in subsequent years. This reduces the ability and willingness of workers to consider OHS issues or participate in training. Workers must also cope with social isolation and stress, which may reduce their ability to engage with OHS training.
English-language training that is focused on the circumstances of the workers and training on machinery are identified as two issues that require attention. This training is necessary to address unsafe agricultural practices that workers may have learned in their home countries (there seemed to be a gendered effect here). Adequate workplace support (including the availability of translators), changes in how contracts are structured, and a different approach to safety training (that engages the worker more fully) are suggested.
This week’s installment of Labour & Pop Culture looks at “Deportee” written by Woody Guthrie. This song is about a 1948 plane crash that killed 28 migrant farm workers being returned from the United States to Mexico. (A misunderstanding about the nature of the US Bracero program resulted in the workers being labeled deportees).
This song draws our attention to the strange discourse on migrant workers in the United States. The country (particularly in labour-intensive sectors of agriculture) is profoundly dependent upon migrants workers with no legal right to work in the US. These workers basically subsidize the price of food for everyone because they have no choice but to accept grindingly low wages and terrible working conditions.
For their hard work, they are demonized. Most recently, Donald Trump has (without any evidence) accused illegal migrants of massive voter fraud. A more common critique centres on such workers “stealing our jobs” (that no citizen will take because the jobs are so terrible…). This “othering” of migrant workers is very similar to the othering of immigrants and other racialized groups, again most notably in the rising tide of Islamaphobia evident in the US and Canada.
Guthrie’s song pointedly talks about the cost (to migrant workers) of their poor treatment and how the appalling treatment of human beings is downplayed when we label them as “illegals” or “deportees”.
There are dozens and dozens of covers of this song. I chose KT Tunstall’s acoustic cover—she has a lovely voice and has shifted the melody away from the 1940s folk sound that is so tedious:
The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning, The oranges piled in their creosote dumps; They're flying 'em back to the Mexican border To pay all their money to wade back again
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita, Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria; You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane, All they will call you will be "deportees"
My father's own father, he waded that river, They took all the money he made in his life; My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees, And they rode the truck till they took down and died.
Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted, Our work contract's out and we have to move on; Six hundred miles to that Mexican border, They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.
We died in your hills, we died in your deserts, We died in your valleys and died on your plains. We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes, Both sides of the river, we died just the same.
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon, A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills, Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves? The radio says, "They are just deportees"
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards? Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit? To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil And be called by no name except "deportees"?
This week’s intallment of Labour & Pop Culture is “Hard Hat and a Hammer” by Alan Jackson. This is a typical valourization of the (blue collar) worker that we see a fair bit of in country music. This song has two notable parts.
First, while the lyrics approve of hard work (presumably in support of a family), the lyrics recognize the interchangeability of workers in advanced capitalism. That is to say, at some level, there is an awareness workers get used and discarded.
He gives his life then fades away
Another young man takes his place
While I expect most workers would at some level recognize this dynamic, it was striking to hear it normalized in a song.
Second, this song constructs (blue-collar) work as the preserve of men (and mostly white men). Sure, at the end of the song Jackson sings “Oh, the working man and… woman” but this is clearly an after-thought: the lyrics and the images in the video are highly gendered and clearly message that workers are men.
Further, workers are mostly white men. There were about 40 or 45 different workers pictured in the video. All but one (at the end) were men and only about 5 or 6 were non-white. The effect of the song and the lyrics is to define blue collar workers as mostly white guys.
I’m reading a very interesting ethnography written by a woman who spent three years in the construction industry (I will blog about it in the future) and a central theme in her experience was the construction of work as the preserve of white males. And the social norms on construction sites are often designed to maintain this position of privilege.
Lace-up boots and faded jeans
A homemade sandwich, a half jug of tea
Average Joe, average pay
Same ol' end and same ol' day
[CHORUS]
But there's nothing wrong with a hard hat and a hammer
Kind of glue that sticks this world together
Hands of steel and cradle of the Promised Land
God bless the working man
All week long making a living
Life keeps takin', he keeps giving
Behind the scene, below the grade
Hardly noticed but part of everything
[CHORUS]
He gives his life then fades away
Another young man takes his place
Average Joe, average pay
Same ol end, same old' day
But there's nothing wrong with a hard hat and a hammer
Kind of glue that sticks this world together
Hands of steel and cradle of the Promised Land
No, there's nothing wrong with a hard hat and a hammer
Kind of glue that sticks this world together
Hands of steel and cradle of the Promised Land
God bless the working man
In Edmonton this Saturday, Migrante Alberta will be hosting a free screening of Migrant Dreams, a powerful feature documentary by multiple award-winning director Min Sook Lee (El Contrato, Hogtown, Tiger Spirit) and Emmy award-winning producer Lisa Valencia-Svensson (Herman’s House).
The film tells the undertold story of migrant agricultural workers struggling against Canada’s Temporary Foreign Worker Program (TFWP) that treats foreign workers as modern-day slaves.
The Canadian Seasonal Agricultural Workers program (CSAWP) began in 1966 as a government agreement between Jamaica and Canada. For the past 50 years, the migrant farm workers have arrived in Canada under conditions that are akin to indentured labour.
Migrant Dreams exposes the underbelly of the Canadian government labour program that has built a system designed to empower brokers and growers to exploit, dehumanize and deceive migrant workers who have virtually no access to support or information in their own language. Workers willing to pay exorbitant fees to work at minimum wage jobs packing the fruits and vegetables we eat in our homes. Migrant workers who deserve basic labour and human rights. Canada it seems, has failed them.
The screening will be at the U of A ECHA Building (11405 87 Ave.) on Saturday, October 1st at 2:00pm. You can learn more on Facebook. There will be a short discussion after the film.
This week’s installment of Labour & Pop Culture is “Work from Home” by Fifth Harmony. At one level, this song is a weak (and occasionally vulgar) double entrendre wherein work is a metaphor for getting busy.
Lyrically, this song is boring. And, as a home worker, I assure you, working at home is nothing like this—it is mostly about unloading the dishwasher while trying to pay attention on a conference call.
Visually, though, the video is worth a look. A couple of things stood out for me:
1. Work is blue collar: The “work” featured in the video is construction (maybe they are building a mall or condo complex?). It would be interesting to know why construction work was chosen to represent work (besides the availability of lots of phallic symbols). Is it because the director sees work as quintessentially blue collar and manual?
2. Work is a thing men do: Construction is one of the most gendered occupations going and all of the “real” workers in this video are men. The only women in the video are singing and distracting the “workers”. In this way, the song constructs work as a male activity while women are cast as hyper-sexualized playmates.
3. Work is white: Recognizing that race is a social construct, a quick spin through the video reveals that none of the “workers” are of colour (despite the profound ethnic diversity among the members of Fifth Dimension). The only non-white guy is Ty Dolla $ign who appears to reinforce the “this song is about having sex with women” message.
That the music industry uses and reinforces stereotypes is hardly an earth-shattering revelation. Yet the brazen sexism and racism in the video is striking and likely reinforces the social norms that contribute to minimal female participation in the construction industry and, more broadly, defining women in narrow, sexualized terms.
I ain't worried 'bout nothin' I ain't wearin' na nada I'm sittin' pretty, impatient, but I know you gotta Put in them hours, I'mma make it harder I'm sending pic after picture, I'mma get you fired
I know you're always on the night shift But I can't stand these nights alone And I don't need no explanation 'Cause baby, you're the boss at home
[CHORUS]
You don't gotta go to work, work, work, work, work, work, work But you gotta put in work, work, work, work, work, work, work You don't gotta go to work, work, work, work, work, work, work Let my body do the work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work We can work from home, oh, oh, oh-oh We can work from home, oh, oh, oh-oh
Let's put it into motion I'mma give you a promotion I'll make it feel like a vacay, turn the bed into an ocean We don't need nobody, I just need your body Nothin' but sheets in between us, ain't no getting off early
I know you're always on the night shift But I can't stand these nights alone And I don't need no explanation 'Cause baby, you're the boss at home
[CHORUS]
[Ty Dolla $ign:] Girl, go to work for me Can you make it clap, no hands for me? Take it to the ground, pick it up for me Look back at it all over me Put in work like my timesheet She ride it like a '63 I'mma buy her no Celine Let her ride in a foreign with me Oh, she the bae, I'm her boo And she down to break the rules Ride or die, she gon' go I won't judge, she finesse I pipe up, she take that Putting overtime on your body
[CHORUS]
Yeah, we can work from home Yeah, we can work from home Yeah
What we found were two contradictory view. Migrant work was generally framed positively, with government MLAs asserting it was economically necessary and posed no threat to Canadian workers. By contrast, government MLAs asserted that international migrant workers had questionable occupational, linguistic or cultural skills and caused negative social and economic impacts in Canada.
Essentially, Tory MLAs asserted migrant work is good but migrant workers are bad. Taken individually, these narratives appear contradictory. Viewed together, however, these narratives can be understood as an effort to dehumanize temporary and permanent international migrant workers. This “othering” of migrant workers justifies migrant workers’ partial citizenship and suppresses criticism of their poor treatment.
