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Growing up in New York City is hard - even harder when one
comes from an immigrant family that wants to make a better
life in another country, like my parents who are from Mexico.
They came into this country never thinking that they would
work long hours, in bad conditions or having to take two jobs
to support the family.
My mom worked so many hours in a sweatshop to pay babysitters,
to buy the week's groceries, and to help pay off the bills
and rent. She was only paid $5.25 an hour. She always did
overtime, so she came back home some time between 8 and 11
at night. Most days I had already done my homework and was
asleep by that time. Sometimes I would wonder if my mother
loved me at all because she spent so much time at work and
not with me. The times I was still awake when she came home,
I would see my mom cook for my dad and uncle and get lunch
ready for the next day for the family. I always saw her tired
and with headaches. When I was able to see her get home from
work I would run to hug her but she always had this smell,
like nail polish or nail polish remover. She never got home
with her hair clean - it always had sticky litter in it with
that same smell.
I slowly saw how her health got worse. Her headaches were
not headaches, but became migraines. When she cooked, things
would just fall out of her hands. In conversations she would
forget what she was talking about. As I was starting to understand
that she was not well anymore, we started going to doctors.
One doctor told her that all of these pains were caused by
her job. She kept working for two years but her arms were
in more pain than ever. That was the point when she stopped
working and filed for Workers' Comp.
Not only is my mom suffering but I am too. Now I am taking
on responsibilities I never thought I would have. I take care
of my mom now and make sure she is fine. I go with her everywhere,
to her doctor's appointments, lawyer and to her hearings.
When I don't I have to make sure to write down the exact directions
of where she is going - if not, she will get lost. No matter
if she has been to that place many times before and should
know it; she can get lost.
Throughout seeing all that has happened to my mom, I sometimes
feel powerless to bring her health back. If I was able to
turn time back and change it all, I would, but I can't. It
has been very difficult for my mom and I to deal with this
situation. It's very painful because now my mom says, "I'm
the one who should support and take care of you, not the other
way around."
I got involved in NMASS because my mother worked in a sweatshop.
When I first met other garment workers I was reminded of my
mother and how hard she worked. The backbreaking long hours
and abusive conditions that many garment workers face is only
a sampling of some of the worst exploitation experienced by
all kinds of working people in the U.S., including my parents.
I joined this campaign [the "It's About TIME!"
Campaign"] to fight the kinds of conditions that kept
my mother from spending time with me and eventually ruined
her health.
We are fighting to change those things, those sweatshop conditions
that lead to my mom not having her health and me not having
my mom. Fighting has changed me a lot. I don't feel so alone
now. It's not just a problem of my community. I've met more
people to connect to. Now I feel like I can talk more.
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