Ruining National Pancake Day

ihopToday marks the tenth anniversary of IHOP’s National Pancake Day. Head to just about any IHOP today and enjoy free buttermilk pancakes as the company solicits donations for the Children’s Miracle Network! Did I mention free pancakes?

While this is a noble undertaking, historical context does have a way of ruining our joy now doesn’t it? Even free pancakes.

During the first half of the twentieth century, there was a National Pancake Festival that was sponsored by Quaker Oats, the owners of the Aunt Jemima franchise. Similar concept but with even more fan fair. Representatives from the company would go to places like children’s hospitals and Kiwanis clubs to make pancakes for everyone and raise money for charity. There was even a Pancake Princess! And races at Disneyland! It was a nationwide celebration of deliciousness for a good cause!

Have I ruined it yet?…No?

Well, it seems I left out one important detail. The center of these celebrations was Aunt Jemima herself, who made appearances all over the country.

Wilson at KiwanisHere is Aunt Jemima (real name: Edith Wilson) at the Kiwanis Club where she, I am sure, gleefully served pancakes and sang songs with the Pancake Princess, who, in every photo that I’ve seen, is always a blonde white woman.

Looking at archival photos, I cannot put into words how incredibly unsettling it is seeing the happy, doting Aunt Jemima, the only black person among a sea of white faces. Even on a day of giving and service, an apron and a handkerchief manage to cement in our imaginations this belief that black women are born and bred to serve.

And in case that is not disturbing enough for you, those races at Disneyland I mentioned? Yeah. People raced while dressed as Aunt Jemima.

pancake races

Your eyes are not deceiving you. The above image is, in fact, a group of white housewives dressed as Aunt Jemima running through the streets of the happiest place on earth.

Sigh.

I hope that you can still enjoy your free pancakes. I mean that sincerely despite my usual tone of sarcasm. Just remember the labor it takes to make this happen. Some overworked and underpaid cook at IHOP will make thousands of pancakes today. And your server has, no doubt, been standing on her feet for hours without so much as a break between tables.

So, give to charity if you feel so inclined. But, more importantly, remember to tip well and recognize that free pancakes happen at someone’s expense. Rather its Aunt Jemima or your local IHOP employee.

And now that it has been sufficiently ruined, I leave National Pancake Day here on the cutting room floor. At least until next year.

A Scholar of Domestic Workers Walks Into a Bar

Last night, as a writing break, I headed to my favorite watering hole for a beer. While there, an old friend came in and introduced me to his significant other. The usual first meeting conversation ensued. Proud friend tells boyfriend that I am working on a PhD. Boyfriend asks what its about. Cue cocktail party dissertation description.

A middle-aged man nearby overhears the conversation and seems interested. He begins asking me lots of questions about my work. He seems weirdly confrontational. Asking questions like “Where are you going with this?” and “What is your argument about exploitation exactly?”

I kept asking for clarification. Because domestic workers not having the labor rights afforded to all other workers seems pretty self explanatory to me as it relates to exploitation.

I should also say that this was a black man. He asked what I thought about domestic workers since they look like him and me. I said that was the motivation behind the dissertation to begin with. This is my history as a black woman.

Then the unimaginable happened.

He pulls out a debit card for a business. His business. A home healthcare business.

It was a dramatic move on his part. He seemed disappointed that I was unfazed. But this elicited more questions than answers. I asked him if most of his employees were women? To which he responded, “I am the one asking the questions here! I am just an ignorant black man.”

At this point I started feeling angry and patronized. I hate feeling patronized. I was being put in a position to justify my work, in a sense to justify domestic worker activism in general. In academic spaces this is to  be expected. It is the responsibility of a scholar. But in this situation I couldn’t help but think: no sir, you should be the one on the defensive here.

I asked whether or not he paid his workers minimum wage. (Which, as a reminder, he is NOT required to do by law). He said they were happy with whatever he paid them. Took that as a no.

I couldn’t help but notice the gendered dynamic of the conversation. His sarcasm as he exclaimed that he was just an ignorant black man. The lack of recognition of my scholarly credibility all while refusing to accept accountability as one who employs domestic workers.

I left feeling frustrated, angry, and defeated in a way. I think this is a byproduct of the emotions of writing a dissertation that one feels so passionately about. You become really attached to the subject matter. You might even write a blog about it even though you spend countless hours a day writing anyway.

At the same time the ideas can be ambiguous. I’m writing about history. Its over. The subjects of every chapter, except for the incomparable Esther Cooper Jackson, are dead. Its all interpretation. Until these vague ideas about misogyny and class oppression take corporeal form. And then smack you in the face with their indifference to their own role in the exploitation of women workers.

This morning I woke up and realized that I had no idea how much stamina and strength is required to advocate for domestic worker rights. Everyday the women who work in this movement face this kind of somehow justified refusal of basic labor rights and a violent indifference by employers and legislators. I do not know how they do it. But I’m glad they do.

Since it is probably uncouth to include the expletives I want to use to describe this situation in my dissertation I am happily leaving this right here on the cutting room floor.

Obligatory Black History Month Post

I have always felt somewhat indifferent about Black History Month. As a child, raised by black parents who were politically radical, I learned about black history everyday. So the cliche black history facts were never new for me.

As an adult I attended a black college and am now a scholar of black history. Not to mention I am writing a dissertation. Black history is my job. Every minute of everyday. (At least until the dissertation is done.)

I really don’t want to disparage BHM though. It has a long and important history (more on that in a second.) It’s important for young people. For instance, a friend of mine is a physics teacher at a diverse Florida charter school. As one of a disappointing few black teachers, his students asked him to incorporate black history into the month’s lessons. Yes its a problematic situation. But if children are asking to learn about things (asking…as in not complaining) and it takes a token month out of the year to inspire them to inquire about black history…well, what can you do. Gotta take what we can get.

But, what you might not know is that the founder of BHM (formerly Negro History Week), Carter G. Woodson, once wrote a powerful essay about domestic workers, entitled “The Negro Washerwoman,” where he celebrated them as the cornerstones of the black community.

I first came across the essay a couple of years ago. It was sent to me by a good friend, who I now owe my life. I have returned to the essay so many times. It is a shining light in a history that so often forgets the domestic worker and doesn’t understand her significance.

Woodson describes my purpose in writing this dissertation so eloquently:

And why should the Negro washerwoman be thus considered? Because she gave her life as a sacrifice for others. Whether as a slave or a free woman of color of the antebellum period or as a worker in the ranks of an emancipated people, her life without exception was on of unrelenting toil for those whom she loved. In the history of no people has her example been paralleled, in no other figure in the Negro group can be found a type of measuring up to the level of this philanthropic spirit in unselfish service.

What he said.

“The Negro Washerwoman” was published in 1930 in The Journal of Negro History. Woodson, as the father of the study of black history, placed domestic workers at the center of our communal American lineage. Here I am, 85 years later, attempting to do the same. It can be a daunting task. But it is so worth it.

So this year, as a way to observe BHM, I am remembering its founder and his commitment to giving the story of black women’s labor the reverence it deserves. For me, the washerwoman will never be left on the cutting room floor.

Domestic Workers Organize in the Arab World

Its a global movement my friends! Domestic workers in Lebanon are in the beginning stages of unionizing, making them the first domestic workers union in the Arab world. This is really exciting news, though the road ahead for these women will certainly not be easy.

As is true in the US, the vast majority of domestic workers in Lebanon are migrant women, predominantly from South East Asia and Africa. There are already 200 women committed to the movement, and I for one cannot wait to see what happens next.

What is particularly inspiring is that existing labor unions in the country have already lent their support to this new union. Seeing domestic workers as essential to the larger movement for workers’ rights only strengthens the movement for the working class. And let me tell you if you ever encounter domestic worker activists from anywhere in the world you would know that you want these women at the head of your movement! They are incredible organizers and tireless fighters for justice for all workers.

What is really interesting, at least to me, is how similar the language used by domestic worker organizers all over the world, and throughout history is. Poor working conditions, no minimum wage, lack of protection from physical/sexual abuse, no days off, no benefits, no insurance, no vacation…and no dignity. I read it everyday in the archives dating  back to the late nineteenth century. I read it everyday on social media as I keep track of the movement in the US. And here it is again in the Arab world.

In 2011, when I began this project I learned that domestic workers were still not guaranteed the rights that we all take for granted as workers. And I was horrified. And I’m still horrified reading it here. Honestly, it calls our global humanity into question. The cutting room floor is really comprised of the things that I just can’t stop thinking about. But if I put them in the dissertation my committee would hang me by my toes for writing too much.

But I owe to the women who fight to keep the movement growing in the US and other parts of North America, in Asia, in Africa, in Europe, and now in the Arab World to keep talking about it. And I will.

Domestic Workers: The Mysterious Women of History

Gordon Parks domestic workerEarlier this month, The New York times asked it readers to help the publication uncover the mystery of this Gordon Parks photo. Not much is known about the picture. It shows two women, in the Atlanta airport. One white. The other, black, presumably her domestic worker, holds a white child. It was taken in the Spring of 1956. Other than that, it’s a mystery.

The description above was mine. The Times chose something a little more…sensational.

The image is striking: A stone-faced African-American woman in a spotless maid’s uniform cradles a white toddler while a stylishly dressed white woman sits nearby.

Now I don’t know how much history they know over at the Times. (Which is weird since they documented most of it.) But if you understand how Jim Crow works, you know that airport waiting rooms were segregated spaces. That flying was still a luxury for the wealthy during the 1950s. And that the only way two women, one black, the other white, would be sitting next to each other at a Southern airport is if the black women was the white woman’s employee.

Oh but they are not done.

We don’t know, the author laments, what their relationship is beyond employer/employee. This is true. But the look on the black woman’s face in the picture, if I may join in the conjecture, suggests to me that the answer is…there isn’t one. Why does there have to be a relationship beyond that?

These are not the kinds of questions we would ask of any other form of labor. Why do we expect domestic workers and their employers to be any more than that. Its a fiction we have been perpetuating through pop culture for decades. And it couldn’t be further from the truth. Just because domestic workers don’t clock in at a factory…just because their work happens in the home…doesn’t mean that its anything more than work. There is an intimacy about taking care of children, and I have found that domestic workers do forge strong bonds with the children they care for (at times), but this almost never translates to a relationship with their employers beyond that which is dictated by work and wages.

But wait my friends…there’s more.

We do know it is an unusual, intimate photo of race relations and economic inequality, subjects as freighted today as they were 60 years ago when the civil rights movement was gaining momentum.

Um…what?

Unusual? Nope nothing unusual here. By 1956, nearly half of black women were still working as domestic workers. Racism…about as American as apple pie. Par for the course. Economic inequality…sort of a byproduct of capitalism. And some would argue more stark now than it was in 1956.

There is nothing extraordinary about the circumstances of the photo. The photo itself is striking from an artistic point of view. Gordon Parks was an amazing photographer. But his interest was in the everyday. There is nothing unusual about this photo. Its everyday life under the auspices of Jim Crow.

Here is what Parks’ notes say about the photo according to the article:

This image shows the continuous matter of servitude which extends into the terminal around 2 a.m. Here, a white baby is held by a Negro maid while the baby’s mother checks on reservations, etc. Although the Negro woman serves as nurse-maid for the white woman’s baby, the two would not be allowed to sit and eat a meal together in any Atlanta restaurant.

Notice how different his description is than the retrospective observations of the New York Times. It is clear to him that the black woman is a nurse maid. And it was the circumstances of her labor that intrigued him. The fact that she could so intimately care for this woman and her family, but that they could not (and probably would not) eat a meal together. The photo exposes Jim Crow as unusual. But in 1956 Atlanta, segregation was mundane.

The article ends with some observations by scholars and art critics. Then they implore readers to help them discover the story behind the photo. A story that they have already invested in. The story of employer and employee, white woman and black woman, symbols of race and class in America.

But symbolism isn’t history. I, too, am curious. I also wonder what that black woman’s name is. Where she lived. If she has a family. But if there is anything I have learned throughout the process of writing history is that stories like these inspire more questions than answers. The story between them, the one the Times is looking for, this extraordinary story of Jim Crow and class differences is a fiction. Everything we think we know about domestic labor in the popular imagination is fiction.

If I weren’t 6 weeks away from finishing this dissertation, I’d take up the Times on their challenge. After all I am curious and I do have a pension for finding the unfindable. But for now my scattered musings will remain here. On the cutting room floor.

The Unwelcome Return of Mammy

I had a pretty bad day yesterday. Like mercury in retrograde bad. So my good friend came to the rescue with a two piece and a biscuit and her hulu plus password so we could watch Empire.

Don’t judge me.

If you haven’t heard yet (or you aren’t keeping track of black twitter) Empire is a new show directed by Lee Daniels (of Precious and The Butler fame) starring Tariji P. Henson and Terrence Howard chronicling the drama that is Empire Records, a hip hop dynasty.

For you soap opera fans, its sort of like the black version of Passions. For other pop culture fanatics its like Glee meets Fame (the tv series not the movie) meets Superfly.

Again, don’t judge me.

I wasn’t planning on watching it. I’m not much of a Lee Daniels fan. Plus I don’t have cable. Or TV. Or time.

But I enjoyed it in that way that we unapologetically enjoy over the top terrible pop culture trash. At least until this happened.

In the middle of episode 2 the family sits around their lavish dining room table, in their lavish mansion, for some lavish reason. Just your average black family. (sarcasm)

Empire

Anyway, sometime during this scene a maid walks in and serves Terrence Howard something. We never see her face, only her ample back side. She is on screen for all of 5 seconds.

I immediately turn to my friend and ask: Why is Hattie McDaniel in Empire?

hattie mcdaniel

She has no business in this scene whatsoever. She does nothing to move the plot. Or even create a necessary pause in the dialogue. She says nothing. She is ambiance. Essentially she is just a symbol of how rich they are. An ornament of new money.

She is a painfully familiar trope. I found it strange that she was wearing the traditional uniform. Like the one domestic workers were once required to wear. A mark of their labor and a justification for their presence in certain segregated spaces. Contemporary domestic workers look nothing like this. At all. In fact, at one time household laborers protested the uniform requirement. It was sort of like capitalism’s version of the scarlet letter.

In my diligence as a researcher I scoured the internet and did figure out her name. But she has no other acting credits. I really wanted to know who she was. This dissertation research and work with activists and advocates has me wanting to put a name and a story to all domestic workers (real or fictional).

I used to relish in the examination of symbolism as an undergraduate english major. Now it has become a  major pain in my ass. The symbol or idea of the domestic worker is probably one of the most powerful images in the American imagination. I think its this that continues to render domestic work invisible.

For those of us who live in urban centers, like New York, we see domestic workers all the time on public transportation or in parks, etc. But we don’t *see* them. There is this image of these women fixed in our brains that comes with 200+ years of shit. It feels like a brick wall that I have to bang my head against just to talk about something as mundane as the actual labor process that domestic workers encounter. Its so frustrating.

So when the ghost of Hattie McDaniel appeared on my screen I just wanted to scream: GO AWAY! And not to Hattie. I love Hattie. But to mammy. And on a black show no less! Ugh!

I wasn’t going to write about this but when I woke up this morning still thinking about it I decided it belonged here on the cutting room floor.

To Unionize or not to Unionize: That is the Question

For the last couple weeks I have been finishing this chapter on the amazing Esther Cooper Jackson and her master’s thesis written in 1940 on domestic workers and unions. Its pretty damn incredible. During the first half of the twentieth century domestic workers formed unions in Birmingham, Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, Newark, Washington, D.C., Cincinnati, and a host of other cities.

These unions were quite militant. Neva Ryan, the president of the Chicago Domestic Workers Association wrote in a 1934 editorial that she didn’t know why domestic workers had not revolted long ago. But that the new union was the writing on the wall.

Of course, this was not without a significant amount of resistance from employers and agencies. Take for instance this anti-union posted from a 1942 article published in NY PM Daily.

Anti Union Poster from PM Daily 1941

I’m really just sharing this because I find it laughable. One woman alone can run a household! She simply chooses not to! Of course. Sigh.

Anyway, on to the subject of this post. Currently, domestic workers in the United States are not permitted to unionize under the National Labor Relations Act. Domestic workers over the years have set aside a movement for inclusion in the Act, in favor of advocating for legislation guaranteeing minimum wage, social security, maximum hours, etc.

But now that domestic worker bills’ of rights have been passed in several states the question of unionization is back on the table. It’s a really complex issue.

First, there is the issue of citizenship. Unions would not necessarily be able to protect those who are undocumented. Because immigration issues are so important to organizers, as they should be since a significant number of domestic workers in the US are immigrant women, they are invested in exploring other models for representing workers.

I wonder how well bills of rights will protect undocumented workers at all? Hmm. I will have to get back to you on this.

As an aside, in many parts of Europe undocumented workers do have certain legislative protections and can be advocated for by unions. Just gonna leave that there. Since I could write a tome about America and the politics of migrant labor and capitalism. I have to resist including this in the dissertation all the time.

But then there is the pressing issue of enforcing the bills of rights. Many domestic worker advocates and activists see unionizing as the answer. It would give workers the ability to collectively bargain, and a way to combat the isolation of private household work.

I have no idea what the right answer is here. Its a really tough question. But what I will say is that I learned an important lesson as a scholar by witnessing these debates at various times.

I think labor scholars and Leftists like myself sometimes get caught up in the magic that was early twentieth century labor organizing. To be barred from unionizing was a major injustice in my eyes. Because I know what unions can do. Or, should I say, did do.

I have watched labor scholars both relish in the melancholy that is the fall of the Soviet Union and the end of the glory days of Left labor organizing, while advocating for unionizing where ever it is not.

Thanks to my research and conversations with current domestic workers, I realize that unions are not the only, and not always the best means for organizing. Especially in this moment, which is nothing like the moment in which Neva Ryan called for domestic workers to revolt.

Parts of that long gone movement seem to be returning. I see elements of it in the organizing of fast food workers, for instance. But issues of race, gender, and citizenship complicate this question for domestic workers.

I find that the debate has really expanded my historical lens and compelled me to ask new and different questions. I’m a better scholar for it.

As for now, I can finally remove the post-it on my desk reminding me to write this post. And leave the question of rather or not to unionize here on the cutting room floor.