Sweatshop
Let me begin by saying that my team was in no way forced to do sweatshop type labor in any way what so ever. This is not meant to be a poor reflection on my ministry, my host, or India. This is intended to share my latest empathetic realization.
A couple notes about India before I begin my story:
-It is winter in India right now, for which we are eternally grateful. It feels like the beginning of summer for us. The temperature in the summer can get up to 130 F.
-Women are generally viewed as being of less worth than men. It’s very strange to even feel it in the atmosphere.
-Women are expected to keep ankles covered at all times. Double coverage is expected (shirt covers pants, scarf covers shirt) and when praying, preaching or in service, the scarf should cover the head.
-Smiling=flirting. American women are generally viewed as promiscuous. At the risk of coming off wrong, you notice yourself starting to just avoid eye contact all together.
The story:
Christmas is a big deal for Christians in India. The church is all decked out with boughs of garlands. Everyone buys new Christmas clothes and there are “Mini-Christmas” parties. Part of the decorations for the church is 300 flowers made out of tissue paper. It’s actually really cute and fairly simple (good for bridal showers, weddings, etc.).
Our ministry this month doesn’t start until the evening so one day we were recruited to make some of those flowers. Anyway we were making these little flowers in the living room and unfortunately had to turn off the fan so that the pieces didn’t fly around the room. It was definitely toasty. Two of the women who help out around here were working with us.
Originally, we had a man who helps with the church show us how to make the flowers. Sometimes he would come in, just stand there and watch. I don’t know if it’s an American thing or a Sassy-Katie thing but micromanaging doesn’t feel great. He showed us that we were folding/cutting wrong and then just stood there. He wasn’t aggressive or violent but I suddenly got the smallest inclination of how working in a sweatshop might feel.
Sitting there I felt degraded. My work wasn’t good enough. Even if I wanted to defend my work, I couldn’t because of the language barrier. In addition, I didn’t want to reflect poorly on my host. The most overwhelming piece was the male-female dynamic. Would I have felt so frustrated if my overseer was a woman?
It just made me think how much worse it is for all of the children and women forced into labor. We were in there for maybe an hour. Those forced to work in sweltering factories are there for countless hours doing much more than 80 paper flowers. They don’t have the voice to speak up; maybe they were forced into the position to begin with or maybe they can’t afford to lose the job. This little experience reminds me to be grateful for all that I have been blessed with. I live in a society where I have equal standing with others. I have countless opportunities. I need to remember that, even in my society, not everyone is entitled to these privileges.
Katie
