The Way I See It: Perspectives on the Labor Movement From the People in It
Who can we tell these stories to but each other? We can’t talk to members about other members. Our leaders, like parents, are disinterested in our antics and our anecdotes. They have outgrown this lifestyle. They go home to their spouses and their children, or hop on airplanes to important meetings with other leaders in far away places, leaving “the kids” unattended for days at a time.
“They’ve persevered and won. They fight like hell for the members. They have a lot of respect for the president. He’s a people person. He’d step in. People thought they’d been sold out by [a rep] in negotiations. . . . At negotiations I couldn’t be there . . . . The whole [negotiating] committee [of members from the bargaining unit] thought he was selling out. The president had to step in. They had a team of reps working on the contract. . . . Membership trusted him. They fell in love with him.” Union rep.
What of OUR spouses and OUR children? Not many of us still have either. Too many times we’ve made that miscalculation too early and for too long–the one where the family can wait until this next organizing drive is over, or this next contract is negotiated. The families don’t wait. The children’s ballgames are still played, the spouses’ parents still pass away, the teenagers still need someone to rebel against. We try to hold on with one hand, while driving the job with the rest of our soul. We don’t often succeed. The drinkers most certainly do not, because there is not enough time in a day to do our job as we wish we could and then commiserate with co-workers, much less get home in time to fix supper or help with homework. Some of us try to outsmart the system by marrying other organizers, thinking that at least our spouses will understand the demands. Often that only leads to faster demise. If we have not lost our families yet we will, and if we don’t it is because we and they expect too little of each other, so little that we need no more than paper and labels to keep us together.
“I’m at the wall, giving 100%. If that isn’t enough, what is? I don’t want to burn out. Not caring, getting frustrated. Sometimes I get overwhelmed.” Union rep.
But I come back every day because I see things I would never see elsewhere. We are often the witness of so much love we are silenced by awe. Last week a steward, a worksite leader, stayed up all night with a mourning co-worker. At a local hospital, a department of union members donated their hard-earned vacation time to another union member so she could spend the last month home with her dying toddler.
“We have a lot of loyal–I mean loyal–members. The local is part of their lives. They got good wages and working conditions because of the local. Others believe we haven’t done anything. One of the best organizations–people of all races and nationalities–we’re pulling in the same direction. We break barriers. One local–straight ahead.” Union rep.
I have hope. I don’t have it from listening to the rhetoric in newspapers or the speeches our union leaders give. I have it because of what I know as an organizer. At my most cynical moments I know that our leaders will stop the erosion of our movement at the very least because they must maintain a system off which to live, a system over which they have power. In my most cynical moments I know they enjoy the power and they want more of it.
“Members feel how they’re treated is important. General well-being. How management treats you. The local can’t identify with that. . . . Pay scale. When you get a three percent pay increase and the local thinks it’s a victory and it may be to them, but it’s NOT to membership. People ratify a contract because they feel they have no other choice. Like myself. Most members feel that even a union that doesn’t do everything that needs to be done is better than not having a union at all.” Union steward.