Last week I wandered through the mazelike corridors of a giant hospital in my home of Atlanta, and talked to workers on the bottom rung of the healthcare social and economic system. I once again got the long familiar rush of hope from workers who had given up on a better life now, allowing themselves the sweet luxury of thinking of what a better life would mean, and embracing hope for the first time–maybe for years or maybe forever.
Watching the face of a 50-something woman come alive as she made up a bed with military precision while we talked about what having a union would mean–a say on the job, negotiated wage increases, benefits, dignity on the job, and respect from the supervisors is a thrill no organizer can find anywhere else.
“Y’all just made my day,” she said. “Sometimes a little hope is all you need.”
That jolt to the organizer’s heart or guts, the viscera doesn’t come from giving anybody anything or from doing anything for anybody, but from reminding workers of their own dignity and offering them the chance to make their lives and the lives of their co-workers better if they do it together.
Talking to an excited young man about 30-ish who was already working to build his union, he asked us if we had talked to so and so or such and such who wanted to be part of building the union, powered me all over again.
Watching a young man with 30-40 years of work and a whole life ahead of him realize that it doesn’t have to be this way, life can be different, poverty is not inevitable.
All this made me remember that our work, when done right, means lighting thousands of fires of dignity in the hearts of thousands of workers, and teaching them what dare not be said–that we are all better off when we are all better off, that when we work and struggle together for ourselves and each other and everyone’s families, there is a synergy of power that can overcome even the power of the Koch boys and crazy Adelson’s “hoarded gold.”
Image source: {innocent eyes} on Flickr (CC BY 2.0)