we were once aliens

"When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God." Leviticus 19:33-34

Being from Philadelphia, sometimes I feel like an alien in the strange land of Houston, Texas. It has a different dialect (I’m fixin’ to make some pecan pie for all y’all), different weather patterns (read: HOT all the time), and culture. I have had the privilege to live as an immigrant in both Chile and Mexico - to depend on the hospitality and patience of others, to experience my language and whiteness as foreign, to be the “other”. And yet this year, ministering with Houston Interfaith Worker Justice, I am continually reminded that I have no idea what it means to be an immigrant, much less an immigrant without U.S. documents, in the United States today.

Low-wage workers come to Houston Interfaith Worker Justice when they have suffered some form of abuse in the workplace. The most common injustice is non-payment of wages, though injury on the job and verbal abuse are rampant. Though we never ask directly, most of the workers that come to the Worker Center are undocumented immigrants, since employers prey on their vulnerability and desperation for a job. 

I would like to share two (shortened) stories with you:

One Vietnamese woman who worked at an egg roll factory developed repetitive motion injuries because she and her co-workers were made to assemble 9 rolls per minute for 10-12 hours days. Workers were intimidated so as not to make complaints, and were barred from talking to each other so as not to organize together. She knows enough English to have a basic conversation, but not enough to understand doctors’ recommendations or navigate government forms. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to apply for disability, because as much as she needs the money, she’s afraid her ex-husband will use her disability to argue for custody of their children. On top of all that, the intensity of making these decisions has triggered depression.

Another worker, a Mexican man who worked in a mechanic shop and junk yard, now bikes half a mile out of his way to avoid passing the house of his former employer who threatened to kill him and to call immigration authorities when this worker asked for his due wages. The worker comments that no one works there for longer than a few weeks (allowing the employer to keep using people for their labor without recognizing their humanity).  

In both these cases I am overwhelmed with the question of how our society can allow such workplace abuses, how easily we lose the sense of our collective identity which our faith calls us to (You, the people of God, were once aliens and exploited workers in Egypt! Remember!). Perhaps what I find so compelling about immigrant workers’ struggles for dignified lives is that it humbles me to witness the resilience and strength of the human spirit. Working with immigrants themselves, I frequently revisit the question of what solidarity means; of how to support the immigrants rights movement as a privileged white female, and avoid impulses to co-opt the role of primary actor.

I am glad to be able to share these questions with you as part of the Dominican family, and hope you will take them to prayer and chew on them in your minds with me