"We kill ourselves to make a living": The Cost of Working
Just finding a job can be terrifying. And that's only the beginning.
Since 2008, Alejandro has dedicated his life and labor to the United States. As a 52 year-old undocumented immigrant, Alejandro has no choice but to work “under the table” to support himself and his family. For 14 years he has managed to stay under the radar by working low-profile, low-income jobs. His status shackles him to poverty. His family attempts to survive living paycheck-to-paycheck. His health is jeopardized as he overexerts his body through arduous manual labor. And every time he clocks-in for work, his body is flooded with the anxiety of being discovered.
Recently, the factory Alejandro works for implemented E-Verify, a database system that checks the identities of workers against government records. It flagged him as an unauthorized worker. Suddenly and unexpectedly he was faced with the risk of losing his job, and, as the sole provider for his family, the cascading effects: poverty, homelessness, even deportation. Despite the time he has sacrificed working for America, he has no legal standing to fight for his job, receive social security, or seek unemployment benefits. Alejandro is just one of millions targeted by an economic system built to exploit the labor of undocumented workers.
Every time he clocks-in for work, his body is flooded with the anxiety of being discovered.
How often do you think about the legal structures that allow you to be hired, to work, and to safely receive a paycheck in this country? Perhaps you dig up your social security card on the rare instance that you need to renew a license. You likely do not worry about needing a work permit. As life-changing as these documents are for undocumented individuals, they are all but invisible and forgotten by everyone else.
Working While Undocumented (not as easy as you’d think)
Let’s talk about how capitalism saps the humanity of undocumented individuals. If you’re a citizen in the U.S., your well-being is tied to the nation’s economy. Your labor is a valued asset. It entitles you to the various social benefits of being a citizen: everything from healthcare, to COVID relief checks, to the security that you won’t be persecuted for lacking documents proving your legality in this country. In contrast, the efforts of undocumented workers do not come paired with this social contract, even if our labor is a crucial aspect of keeping this country running on a daily basis.
Having the right to work legally is a privilege taken for granted by citizens. We are not afforded this privilege. Instead, without a legal working permit or a social security number, undocumented immigrants are pushed to work illegally – “under the table.”
Acquiring a job only heightens our vulnerability. The U.S. has a long history of labor exploitation, thriving off the cheap labor of the most oppressed. This system is upheld by fear, made possible through the criminalization of our bodies. If we work illegally, the U.S. economy and the companies that enrich it are not obligated to pay us fairly, ensure our rights as workers, or compensate our time, labor, and health consumed at its convenience.
Acquiring a job only heightens our vulnerability.
Crackdowns on unauthorized labor, such as violent immigration raids on labor sites and attempts to prevent the hiring of undocumented laborers, like E-Verify, punish individual workers in this cruel system. Meanwhile, executives controlling the levers of the machine get a slap on the hand. A review of data from a one year period found that only 11 individuals (and no companies) were prosecuted for hiring undocumented individuals. Contrast these 11 prosecutions of individual employers with the 85,727 individuals prosecuted for illegal entry, 34,617 prosecuted for illegal re-entry, and 4,733 prosecuted for illegally bringing in or harboring immigrants. The burden of harm always fall on those of us that make this country operate.
Even while remaining invisible, we cannot escape the costs. We kill ourselves to make a living. Barriers to safe work options relegate most undocumented workers to some of the most hazardous jobs in agriculture, construction, janitorial/maintenance, and other low-wage, high-risk industries. Substandard living conditions that accompany low-income paired with lack of preventive and services contribute to an increased risk of work injury and disability. Valued by our ability to work, once condemned an inconvenience we are disposed— thrown off the margins of society without a safety net.
Let’s return to a fundamental premise of La Cuenta: contrary to popular belief, undocumented individuals do not choose to be undocumented. The risks and limitations that come with working while undocumented are obviously not a secret to us. However, many are left with no choice. We sacrifice everything to support ourselves and our families, and the U.S. readily takes it.
Propina:
If you’re a new La Cuenta Reader, each installment includes a small propina—an action item, a token of gratitude, a suggested media product, something for our readers to take away.
This week we want to showcase the work of Judy Baca, an American artist, activist, and professor of Chicano studies, world arts, and cultures based at the University of California, Los Angeles. Her website gives insight to the inspirations behind her murals, immigrant communities being one of them:
“Baca’s public artworks focus on revealing and reconciling diverse peoples’ struggles for their rights and affirm the connections of each community to place. She gives form to monuments that rise up out of neighborhoods. Together with the people who live there, they co-create monumental public art places that become “sites of public memory.” Baca has stood for art in service of equity for all people. Her public arts initiatives reflect the lives and concerns of populations that have been historically disenfranchised, including women, the working poor, youth, the elderly and immigrant communities, throughout Los Angeles and increasingly in national and international venues.”
We invite you to sit with and reflect on her mural “Uprising of the Mujeres.” In the image, Judy Baca places an Indigenous woman at the forefront of political struggle against the prioritization of military spending, the formation of a police state at the expense of social welfare and the exploitation of workers to further capitalism. We hope you find connections to the stories of Alejandro and other workers in this week’s issue.