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On the Line: A Story of Class, Solidarity, and Two Women's Epic Fight to Build a Union
“Riveting and intimate. It is hard to imagine a more humanizing portrait of the American labor movement. A remarkable debut.� —Francisco Cantú, New York Times bestselling author of The Line Becomes a River
On the Line takes us inside a bold five-year campaign to bring a union to the dangerous industrial laundry factories of Phoenix, Arizona. The fight is led by two courageous women: Daisy Pitkin, a young labor organizer, and Alma, a second-shift immigrant worker who risks her livelihood fighting for safer working conditions. On the Line illuminates the harsh realities that workers in these factories face—routine exposure to biohazardous waste, surgical tools left in hospital sheets, and overheating machinery—as well as the ways broken US labor law makes it nearly impossible for them to fight back.
Forged in the flames of a vicious anti-union crusade and a grueling legal battle, the relationships that grow between Daisy, Alma, and the other factory workers show how a union, at its best, can reach beyond the workplace and form a solidarity so powerful that it can transcend friendship and transform communities. But when political strife divides the union, and her bond with Alma along with it, Daisy is forced to reflect on her own position of privilege and the power imbalances inherent in any top-down organizing movement.
In the social tradition of Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed, Stephanie Land’s Maid, or Matthew Desmond’s Evicted, and capturing the deeply personal nature of organizing, On the Line offers an exhilarating and long overdue look at the modern-day labor movement, how difficult it is to bring about social change, and why we can’t afford to stop trying. At this moment, when interest in collective action is rising, On the Line is a vital contribution to our national conversation.
On the Line takes us inside a bold five-year campaign to bring a union to the dangerous industrial laundry factories of Phoenix, Arizona. The fight is led by two courageous women: Daisy Pitkin, a young labor organizer, and Alma, a second-shift immigrant worker who risks her livelihood fighting for safer working conditions. On the Line illuminates the harsh realities that workers in these factories face—routine exposure to biohazardous waste, surgical tools left in hospital sheets, and overheating machinery—as well as the ways broken US labor law makes it nearly impossible for them to fight back.
Forged in the flames of a vicious anti-union crusade and a grueling legal battle, the relationships that grow between Daisy, Alma, and the other factory workers show how a union, at its best, can reach beyond the workplace and form a solidarity so powerful that it can transcend friendship and transform communities. But when political strife divides the union, and her bond with Alma along with it, Daisy is forced to reflect on her own position of privilege and the power imbalances inherent in any top-down organizing movement.
In the social tradition of Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed, Stephanie Land’s Maid, or Matthew Desmond’s Evicted, and capturing the deeply personal nature of organizing, On the Line offers an exhilarating and long overdue look at the modern-day labor movement, how difficult it is to bring about social change, and why we can’t afford to stop trying. At this moment, when interest in collective action is rising, On the Line is a vital contribution to our national conversation.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 2022
48 people are currently reading
4650 people want to read
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February 3, 2024
On the Line, a labor memoir by Daisy Pitkin, tells the true story of a grassroots struggle to organize a nonunion laundry in Arizona as part of an industry-wide unionizing campaign. My thanks go to NetGalley and Algonquin for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.
Daisy is an organizer for UNITE, a labor union that organizes textiles, laundries, transportation, service workers, and some others, created by the merger of ILGWU (International Ladies Garment Workers Union) and ACTWU, the American Clothing and Textile Workers Union (of which this reviewer was once a member and union activist.) She is working at the ground level, approaching workers in the parking lot, partnering with a woman named Alma that worked there and could talk to other workers inside the factory.
The memoir is written in the second person to Alma, and at first this seems odd, but as I read, I realize this is an effective and intelligent choice. By addressing Alma and the things that Alma has said and done during this fight, as well as the things the author did, along with what they did together, and the occasional differences of opinion they had and how they resolved them, she avoids making herself sound like a martyr to the cause. It would not read nearly so well in the first person, with the reader as audience.
The tasks of the workers all revolve around the commercial laundering process. Immense bags of dirty linens weighing up to 300 pounds are pushed off of the delivery trucks in rolling carts.
“The linen moves down the belt, you said, and then you flicked your arms back and forth to demonstrate how you and the other sorters toss sheets into one bin, towels to another, gowns to a third, and so on. You said, Sometimes they speed up the conveyor, and we don’t have time to be careful. There is a lot of blood and puke and feces. You said, We don’t get shoe covers, so some of us take off our shoes and drive home in our socks. You said, Our gloves are too big—they slip off our hands. Sometimes when they tear open, we have to handle the soiled linen with exposed skin…you were demanding a seemingly simple thing: to work your eight-or-ten-hour shift and come home unharmed. You wanted gloves that hospital needles cannot puncture. You wanted face masks to keep the blood and fluids from other bodies from entering your bodies. You wanted safety guards put back on machines where they had been removed. You wanted linen dust cleaned from the rafters to prevent fires.�
Safety rules are routinely flouted. Dirty linens land on the belt, and the belt feeds them into the mouth of a tunnel washer. When the washer jams, workers sometimes have to crawl through hot, bleachy, contaminated water to clear it and get it working. The supervisors are supposed to cut power when someone is in there, but they don’t. Ultimately it’s a choice for the owners to risk a possible, but unlikely fine from the government, or frequent decreases in production, which cut into profits. The workers are expendable; they can always find more. The wash and dry departments of industrial laundries are the most fatal of all industries, according to U.S. government statistics.
Daisy and Alma are working on a shoestring. When they have to be away from home overnight in order to meet workers as they go in or come out, they sleep in the car. Their signs are made by hand with posterboard and Sharpies. Initially, all of the workers sign cards, but then management begins a campaign of threats and intimidation. Not all of the workers are in the States legally, and most of them don’t know their legal rights. Most of them rescind their votes, and then it’s an uphill climb to get them to sign again.
This is a topic that is of great interest to me, and I was supposed to have read and reviewed this book in April of 2023, but my stomach twisted as I read of the horrific obstacles encountered by workers and by Daisy, and halfway through I had to put it down. Only recently did I slap myself upside the head and resume reading.
In any labor union, there are two sets of obstacles. The first, the one that is obvious, is the company, the bosses. Unions cut into profits, so the owners or boards of directors nearly always fight unionization. The second, and lesser known, is the union officialdom at the top. These people spend more time around the bosses and other highly paid union officers than they do around the workers, and they become jaded, sometimes contemptuous of those that they are supposed to represent, whose dues pay their salaries. When Daisy is eventually promoted, she discovers it’s harder to do anything that is in the interests of the clientele.
The book also includes a fair amount of union history, and it’s clearly explained, well woven throughout the narrative.
For those that are interested in unions and labor history, this is an excellent resource. But don’t read it at bedtime; it will do things to your dreams.
Daisy is an organizer for UNITE, a labor union that organizes textiles, laundries, transportation, service workers, and some others, created by the merger of ILGWU (International Ladies Garment Workers Union) and ACTWU, the American Clothing and Textile Workers Union (of which this reviewer was once a member and union activist.) She is working at the ground level, approaching workers in the parking lot, partnering with a woman named Alma that worked there and could talk to other workers inside the factory.
The memoir is written in the second person to Alma, and at first this seems odd, but as I read, I realize this is an effective and intelligent choice. By addressing Alma and the things that Alma has said and done during this fight, as well as the things the author did, along with what they did together, and the occasional differences of opinion they had and how they resolved them, she avoids making herself sound like a martyr to the cause. It would not read nearly so well in the first person, with the reader as audience.
The tasks of the workers all revolve around the commercial laundering process. Immense bags of dirty linens weighing up to 300 pounds are pushed off of the delivery trucks in rolling carts.
“The linen moves down the belt, you said, and then you flicked your arms back and forth to demonstrate how you and the other sorters toss sheets into one bin, towels to another, gowns to a third, and so on. You said, Sometimes they speed up the conveyor, and we don’t have time to be careful. There is a lot of blood and puke and feces. You said, We don’t get shoe covers, so some of us take off our shoes and drive home in our socks. You said, Our gloves are too big—they slip off our hands. Sometimes when they tear open, we have to handle the soiled linen with exposed skin…you were demanding a seemingly simple thing: to work your eight-or-ten-hour shift and come home unharmed. You wanted gloves that hospital needles cannot puncture. You wanted face masks to keep the blood and fluids from other bodies from entering your bodies. You wanted safety guards put back on machines where they had been removed. You wanted linen dust cleaned from the rafters to prevent fires.�
Safety rules are routinely flouted. Dirty linens land on the belt, and the belt feeds them into the mouth of a tunnel washer. When the washer jams, workers sometimes have to crawl through hot, bleachy, contaminated water to clear it and get it working. The supervisors are supposed to cut power when someone is in there, but they don’t. Ultimately it’s a choice for the owners to risk a possible, but unlikely fine from the government, or frequent decreases in production, which cut into profits. The workers are expendable; they can always find more. The wash and dry departments of industrial laundries are the most fatal of all industries, according to U.S. government statistics.
Daisy and Alma are working on a shoestring. When they have to be away from home overnight in order to meet workers as they go in or come out, they sleep in the car. Their signs are made by hand with posterboard and Sharpies. Initially, all of the workers sign cards, but then management begins a campaign of threats and intimidation. Not all of the workers are in the States legally, and most of them don’t know their legal rights. Most of them rescind their votes, and then it’s an uphill climb to get them to sign again.
This is a topic that is of great interest to me, and I was supposed to have read and reviewed this book in April of 2023, but my stomach twisted as I read of the horrific obstacles encountered by workers and by Daisy, and halfway through I had to put it down. Only recently did I slap myself upside the head and resume reading.
In any labor union, there are two sets of obstacles. The first, the one that is obvious, is the company, the bosses. Unions cut into profits, so the owners or boards of directors nearly always fight unionization. The second, and lesser known, is the union officialdom at the top. These people spend more time around the bosses and other highly paid union officers than they do around the workers, and they become jaded, sometimes contemptuous of those that they are supposed to represent, whose dues pay their salaries. When Daisy is eventually promoted, she discovers it’s harder to do anything that is in the interests of the clientele.
The book also includes a fair amount of union history, and it’s clearly explained, well woven throughout the narrative.
For those that are interested in unions and labor history, this is an excellent resource. But don’t read it at bedtime; it will do things to your dreams.
August 8, 2022
To be transparent I did not know much at all about unions before reading this book, beyond the fact that they exist to protect the right of workers, but WOW was I lucky to happen upon this story. It illustrates and explains the incredibly complex set of structures and power dynamics that directly affect the experiences of vast numbers of workers who, every day, do the difficult jobs that underpin society like ensuring hospitals have clean sheets, blankets, and towels.
On the Line is equal parts a crash course in labor organizing in the United States with a specific orientation around the role women have played within that history, a memoir about a shared attempt to create a union at an industrial laundry told from the perspective of the author recounting her experience to her close co-organizer, and a meditation on…moths? (The last part didn’t make as much sense to me either, but tbh it somehow added to the beauty and depth of Ms. Pitkin’s account). This story was tender, riveting, artistic, and incredibly informative, all at once.
The bonus fact I wasn’t expecting that filled me with pride: labor strikes in the US actually began in the late 1800s in my own little home state of Rhode Island with a group of young women! ⚓️✊�
On the Line is equal parts a crash course in labor organizing in the United States with a specific orientation around the role women have played within that history, a memoir about a shared attempt to create a union at an industrial laundry told from the perspective of the author recounting her experience to her close co-organizer, and a meditation on…moths? (The last part didn’t make as much sense to me either, but tbh it somehow added to the beauty and depth of Ms. Pitkin’s account). This story was tender, riveting, artistic, and incredibly informative, all at once.
The bonus fact I wasn’t expecting that filled me with pride: labor strikes in the US actually began in the late 1800s in my own little home state of Rhode Island with a group of young women! ⚓️✊�
May 28, 2022
I really enjoyed reading this Absolutely marvelous book!! I highly recommend this book
August 21, 2024
This is why unions are SO IMPORTANT. Over and over again. It’s not a particularly well-organized book but I think the information present outweighs that aspect of it. Good but not great. 3.9 stars
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July 17, 2023Had a really good cry when I finished this. If you're interested in the nitty-gritty of union drives, heartfelt solidarity, and messy internal politics, you gotta read this. (Also there's stuff about moths.)
July 12, 2024
Just beautifully executed. I don’t know a lot about labor history or modern union organizing so this was a great introduction, but more than that, I couldn’t read more than a couple pages without tearing up. This is as much a portrait of female friendship as it is about the pitfalls and triumphs of the modern labor movement.
March 16, 2023
I've written and deleted probably five drafts of reviews for this book because each one seemed unnecessarily harsh and negative, when I did in fact like this book overall. It even inspired me to add other books on workers' rights and labor laws to my "to read" list. Today I finally realized what the trouble is: if you enjoy memoirs where personal feelings and experiences engage you the most, On the Line will probably work for you. If you enjoy books written by journalists, where detailed information and writing prowess engages you, then you may end up a bit more on the disappointed side.
I'm used to reading books in the latter category and far less in the former, so my lack of 5 stars here could very well be due to the fact that I approached the book expecting something different, even though Pitkin makes it clear in the introduction that it is "part memoir". On the Line can really be separated into three sections though, which makes it difficult to rate the book as a whole: Pitkin’s personal memoir, the letter to Alma Gomez García (the main story), and a history of unionization and labor.
For full disclosure, I listened to the audiobook, narrated by the author. Sometimes choosing the author to read their own work is risky. Although Pitkin reads clearly, almost no emotion or inflection comes through (and I’m saying this as someone who genuinely prefers less dramatic narrators). In fact, as I listened, I couldn’t help but envision a completely blank-faced reader, not necessarily nervous, yet never smiling; perhaps not unlike any of my fellow university classmates reading a work they put a lot of effort and passion into, yet flatly reading it aloud in front of the class.
Similar to other reviewers� opinions, I felt the portions consisting of Pitkin’s memoir the weakest by far. At first, I didn’t think the sections on the moths would bother me much, being a lover of analogy and metaphor, but eventually it felt more like page-filler than relevant information, especially after the author’s particularly long meander into moth-related Greek mythology.
The main driver of the book, the unionization of industrial laundry workers in Arizona, was both the most interesting and the most frustrating. This was what I wanted to know about, but Pitkin wrote these sections as if they were addressed to her friend Alma Gomez Garcia, one of the workers helping to unionize. The constant “you� (referring to Gomez Garcia) kept pushing me out of the story, disconnecting me from being invested in the people and the events that were happening. It was also odd to read things like, �. . . in Mexico, where you were born [at this place] and had three brothers. You grew up in [these circumstances] and made [these choices]. You felt [this way].� (This is not an actual quote, but an example.) It sounds as if Pitkin is addressing the passage to Gomez Garcia, explaining to her the woman's own life story, experiences, and feelings. I know Pitkin does this to give the reader a background on her friend, but then why the constant use of “you�? If someone is writing a book or letter to me, I don’t need them to tell me how many siblings I have, where I grew up, or my feelings about things.
My final complaint is that Pitkin utilizes a literary device I typically love because of its impact: using “and� to string together lists instead of commas only. Unfortunately, she uses this device ad nauseam so that its punchiness eventually fades into simple irritation. Here is an actual quote from the book, near the end when this device had already been used at least once or more in every preceding chapter:
When she called again, I wrote what she reported in my notebook: “Why are you resisting?�, and “Why don’t you follow his orders?�, and “Are you committed to building the union at the hotel or not?�, and “It doesn’t seem that you are�, and “Don’t you want to learn to be a leader?�, and “What are you so afraid of?�.
None of the things mentioned here are really that big of a deal, but I personally felt these were many small, repeated things that kept me from absorbing what the author had to say in a way that she probably would have liked. I expect most others will not be put off by these annoyances, but they do serve to show that this book is more a memoir than anything. I did find the insider’s look at union organizations and union building fascinating. That, along with Pitkin’s chapters on the history of unions (particularly as she focused on women laborers), is what ultimately kept me reading and inspired me to pick up other books perhaps more in line with my expectations.
I'm used to reading books in the latter category and far less in the former, so my lack of 5 stars here could very well be due to the fact that I approached the book expecting something different, even though Pitkin makes it clear in the introduction that it is "part memoir". On the Line can really be separated into three sections though, which makes it difficult to rate the book as a whole: Pitkin’s personal memoir, the letter to Alma Gomez García (the main story), and a history of unionization and labor.
For full disclosure, I listened to the audiobook, narrated by the author. Sometimes choosing the author to read their own work is risky. Although Pitkin reads clearly, almost no emotion or inflection comes through (and I’m saying this as someone who genuinely prefers less dramatic narrators). In fact, as I listened, I couldn’t help but envision a completely blank-faced reader, not necessarily nervous, yet never smiling; perhaps not unlike any of my fellow university classmates reading a work they put a lot of effort and passion into, yet flatly reading it aloud in front of the class.
Similar to other reviewers� opinions, I felt the portions consisting of Pitkin’s memoir the weakest by far. At first, I didn’t think the sections on the moths would bother me much, being a lover of analogy and metaphor, but eventually it felt more like page-filler than relevant information, especially after the author’s particularly long meander into moth-related Greek mythology.
The main driver of the book, the unionization of industrial laundry workers in Arizona, was both the most interesting and the most frustrating. This was what I wanted to know about, but Pitkin wrote these sections as if they were addressed to her friend Alma Gomez Garcia, one of the workers helping to unionize. The constant “you� (referring to Gomez Garcia) kept pushing me out of the story, disconnecting me from being invested in the people and the events that were happening. It was also odd to read things like, �. . . in Mexico, where you were born [at this place] and had three brothers. You grew up in [these circumstances] and made [these choices]. You felt [this way].� (This is not an actual quote, but an example.) It sounds as if Pitkin is addressing the passage to Gomez Garcia, explaining to her the woman's own life story, experiences, and feelings. I know Pitkin does this to give the reader a background on her friend, but then why the constant use of “you�? If someone is writing a book or letter to me, I don’t need them to tell me how many siblings I have, where I grew up, or my feelings about things.
My final complaint is that Pitkin utilizes a literary device I typically love because of its impact: using “and� to string together lists instead of commas only. Unfortunately, she uses this device ad nauseam so that its punchiness eventually fades into simple irritation. Here is an actual quote from the book, near the end when this device had already been used at least once or more in every preceding chapter:
When she called again, I wrote what she reported in my notebook: “Why are you resisting?�, and “Why don’t you follow his orders?�, and “Are you committed to building the union at the hotel or not?�, and “It doesn’t seem that you are�, and “Don’t you want to learn to be a leader?�, and “What are you so afraid of?�.
None of the things mentioned here are really that big of a deal, but I personally felt these were many small, repeated things that kept me from absorbing what the author had to say in a way that she probably would have liked. I expect most others will not be put off by these annoyances, but they do serve to show that this book is more a memoir than anything. I did find the insider’s look at union organizations and union building fascinating. That, along with Pitkin’s chapters on the history of unions (particularly as she focused on women laborers), is what ultimately kept me reading and inspired me to pick up other books perhaps more in line with my expectations.
June 11, 2025
really really good. i felt like i was remembering pheonix in 2003, a place ive never been to and a time i was not conscious. the relationship between daisy and alma is very compelling; i feel like whenever daisy wrote abt alma id bring my eyes closer to the page so i could hear her better.
id give it 5 stars if only i wasnt getting a little antsy 3/4 in, but maybe that has more to do w me than pitkins writing idk.
earnestly recommend this to all my unite here girlies it made me think abt the union and the peculiarities abt it ive been able to notice from my vantage point and make me feel lots of love for it all over again
id give it 5 stars if only i wasnt getting a little antsy 3/4 in, but maybe that has more to do w me than pitkins writing idk.
earnestly recommend this to all my unite here girlies it made me think abt the union and the peculiarities abt it ive been able to notice from my vantage point and make me feel lots of love for it all over again
July 12, 2024
damn! my boss can write ✍️
February 8, 2023
On the Line: a Story of Class, Solidarity, and Two Women’s Epic Fight to Build a Union had come to my attention due to a pro-union cat on twitter (@jortsthecat � which if you haven’t encountered, I promise he and Jean are worth taking a quick deep dive). I don’t know if it was the time/place I was reading it, or my affection for the recommending source and their tone, or the actual writing of the book but this one was firmly middle of the road for me. There were parts of this book that I enjoyed, and that I think are important as we reckon with labor laws that have been eroded to the point of being too weak to help most workers fight back and win in the United States. Based on who I am as a person the sections where Pitkin lays out the actual history of the unions which eventually become UNITE (garment workers) and how that story is mythologized were the strongest for me as they are both important social history but provide a lens to view organizing and its costs. I appreciated that Pitkin explicitly reckons with the privilege she brought with her into her experience in Phoenix and the imbalance of power that comes from top-down organizing but I was left with the sensation that while she named it, she didn’t fully interrogate it or land on a final thought. What didn’t work for me were the sections of this book that make up the other half of the narrative. I know Pitkin was going for a metaphor or allegory in unpacking her consistent nightmares about moths during her time organizing in Phoenix and her later continued fascination with studying them, but the sections stood starkly in contrast with the other sections.
full review:
full review:
August 29, 2022
I'm honestly not sure where to start with this book. I picked it up because we (my coworkers and I) are currently trying to build a union in our place of work. I was surprised by what I was reading. There were so many similarities between what Pitkin was experience as she tried to build the union, that my coworkers and I were experiencing as well. I think that's what kept me reading, wanting to know if they were successful in organizing their union and if their hard work paid off.
I may be in the minority here, but I really enjoyed reading about how the UNITE union got started, and it stemmed from the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.
The only complaint I have about this novel, is some was in Spanish, and there wasn't notes on what it translates into English. Other than that, it was my only issue with the book.
I really think anyone organizing a union, or part of a union needs to pick up and read this book.
I may be in the minority here, but I really enjoyed reading about how the UNITE union got started, and it stemmed from the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.
The only complaint I have about this novel, is some was in Spanish, and there wasn't notes on what it translates into English. Other than that, it was my only issue with the book.
I really think anyone organizing a union, or part of a union needs to pick up and read this book.
May 7, 2023
Very interesting topic, not so interesting book. The writing style just wasn't for me. I did learn a bit, but I felt like I had to wade through a lot to find those bits.
June 18, 2025
this book was good and devastating and has much food for thought. +1 star just because i think that daisy pitkins takes on organizing culture are good and i agree with them. i especially liked her reflections on care vs anger and also got really angry with her when she was talking about “storytelling�. was pretty much fuming for the last 15 percent of the book.
i also liked her reflections on how the fight changes people in chapter 2. “the you before the fight denatures you..�
i also liked her reflections on how the fight changes people in chapter 2. “the you before the fight denatures you..�
November 22, 2022
Reflective, informative, and well-written. I especially appreciated the author’s choice to write as a memoir and her symbolism and connection to moths. Recommend!
January 5, 2023
this book was so powerful. beautiful writing and history around the labor movement, union organizing, and building solidarity. i wish the parts about the moths/self immolation and the ideological struggles btwn UNITE/HERE were more fleshed out but damn.
March 29, 2022
An intimate and powerful account on the American labor movement. On The Line takes place over the five years campaign in bringing voice to the workers employed in dangerous factories. A glimpse through the lens of the innermost grueling effort in organization and battle for fairness, Daisy illuminates the harsh conditions these workers face daily and the broken system of the US labor law that contributes to the injustice practice in our society.
The campaign is led by two extraordinary women, Daisy Pitkin and Alma, a second shift immigrant worker. However, it takes a village to fight this momentous battle for social change. It spotlights the factory workers and those involved in the fight, the strong solidarity and a sense of community. Pitkin switches narrative structures throughout the book. The second person point of view structure provided for a much intimate approach. During this narrative structure, Daisy is having a direct conversation with myself, the reader. The workers' harsh realities and the campaigns felt personal and evoked a sense of immediacy. On top of the second person narrative, Pitkin with grace delivers historical information on the U.S. labor movements. Thoroughly researched, it was enlightening, sobering and inspiring.
The sense of love and respect for this community shines in this memoir. However, Pitkin is very candid about the day to day work in the organization, the uncertainty during their groundwork and health and safety concerns for the workers. Reading about these vivid brutal accounts of the workers were heartbreaking yet eye-opening. The details on the harsh realities of many workers and the long struggles of those on the front line may be disheartening, but Pitkin's memoir is in a hopeful tone. It is a portrait of fierce spirits and resilience of human beings in connection to all of us, sharing the same visions and hopes for respect, fairness and equality.
Thank you to NetGalley and Algonquin Books for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
The campaign is led by two extraordinary women, Daisy Pitkin and Alma, a second shift immigrant worker. However, it takes a village to fight this momentous battle for social change. It spotlights the factory workers and those involved in the fight, the strong solidarity and a sense of community. Pitkin switches narrative structures throughout the book. The second person point of view structure provided for a much intimate approach. During this narrative structure, Daisy is having a direct conversation with myself, the reader. The workers' harsh realities and the campaigns felt personal and evoked a sense of immediacy. On top of the second person narrative, Pitkin with grace delivers historical information on the U.S. labor movements. Thoroughly researched, it was enlightening, sobering and inspiring.
The sense of love and respect for this community shines in this memoir. However, Pitkin is very candid about the day to day work in the organization, the uncertainty during their groundwork and health and safety concerns for the workers. Reading about these vivid brutal accounts of the workers were heartbreaking yet eye-opening. The details on the harsh realities of many workers and the long struggles of those on the front line may be disheartening, but Pitkin's memoir is in a hopeful tone. It is a portrait of fierce spirits and resilience of human beings in connection to all of us, sharing the same visions and hopes for respect, fairness and equality.
Thank you to NetGalley and Algonquin Books for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
April 28, 2022
Daisy Pitkin's account of her work organizing workers, mostly Mexican immigrants, in industrial laundries in Arizona is hair raising. The sheer amount of work involved to get access to these workers, and talk to them about their work conditions was almost beyond belief. In many of these workplaces, safeguards had been removed from machinery to speed up the work. While in smaller, "better" laundries, hospital loads were pre-washed before sorting by workers to remove dangerous items such as syringe needles (very common), blood and even body parts, in these industrial laundries, workers were often injured. Not only was the work dirty, it was dangerous.
Daisy forges a friendship with Alma, a Mexican immigrant, who works in the laundry Daisy and others are organizing. The stories of how management broke almost every rule and law on the books beggars belief. And sadly, because of the ineffectiveness of the National Labor Relations Board, and Arizona courts, they got away with it. Alma proves to be a leader, and becomes a target for management at her workplace.
Pitkin worked for UNITE then UNITE/HERE then Workers United/SEIU. These unions were also guilty of dirty tricks, and a lot of big egos. I finished the book not knowing why anyone would want to work as a union organizer when even their own union wasn't totally on the up and up. But as a former teachers' union activist, as imperfect as my own union in Boston was, I still believe I was, and other teachers were, better off because we had it.
Pitkin describes the decline of unions in the second half of the 20th century:
In 2020 industrial laundry workers made $10.13 an hour on average. The CEO of the largest laundry corporation in the US made almost $10 million. Union density has fallen to 6.4 percent in the private sector…around 11 percent overall, similar to the percentage it was in 1910, when the ILGWU was formed…Since union density fell below 25 percent in 1977, income inequality has risen exponentially every year. She goes on to say "The right to organize is almost nonexistent as those rights, established in 1935, have eroded over the past decades."
Yet, we have seen a trend towards organizing that is rapidly growing - teachers, Amazon, Starbucks. And Pitkin believes that rather than being led by anger, these efforts are led by solidarity. I hope she is right. I have a younger sister who works in an Amazon warehouse. We don't talk about her job much, except when she is on mandatory overtime. It's a job she needs.
Daisy forges a friendship with Alma, a Mexican immigrant, who works in the laundry Daisy and others are organizing. The stories of how management broke almost every rule and law on the books beggars belief. And sadly, because of the ineffectiveness of the National Labor Relations Board, and Arizona courts, they got away with it. Alma proves to be a leader, and becomes a target for management at her workplace.
Pitkin worked for UNITE then UNITE/HERE then Workers United/SEIU. These unions were also guilty of dirty tricks, and a lot of big egos. I finished the book not knowing why anyone would want to work as a union organizer when even their own union wasn't totally on the up and up. But as a former teachers' union activist, as imperfect as my own union in Boston was, I still believe I was, and other teachers were, better off because we had it.
Pitkin describes the decline of unions in the second half of the 20th century:
In 2020 industrial laundry workers made $10.13 an hour on average. The CEO of the largest laundry corporation in the US made almost $10 million. Union density has fallen to 6.4 percent in the private sector…around 11 percent overall, similar to the percentage it was in 1910, when the ILGWU was formed…Since union density fell below 25 percent in 1977, income inequality has risen exponentially every year. She goes on to say "The right to organize is almost nonexistent as those rights, established in 1935, have eroded over the past decades."
Yet, we have seen a trend towards organizing that is rapidly growing - teachers, Amazon, Starbucks. And Pitkin believes that rather than being led by anger, these efforts are led by solidarity. I hope she is right. I have a younger sister who works in an Amazon warehouse. We don't talk about her job much, except when she is on mandatory overtime. It's a job she needs.
December 30, 2022
Going through all the books recommended to me, but have been slow to get to. Can't say I have read anything like this before, and it really felt like a unique read. That being said it lacked any narrative oomph that I felt reading nonfiction works like Invisible Child or Evicted. It seemed so caught up in a desire to be this esoteric book on union organizing and solidarity, but also about moths and various representations of them and the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire and this inner drama with the merger of another labor company and this one companionship that apparently is so crucial that the book will be written as a letter addressed to this person (until the end), that at the end of the book I have no idea what I was supposed to take away from it all.
After not contextualizing much of any of the story, the book ends by saying how there is a resurgence in labor organizing with more strikes than there have been in decades. That sort of information was missing througout most of the narrative even though it could easily have served as a motivating force for the text. The author then makes a call to action under this vague idea/buzzword of solidarity and the importance of union organizing, yet after 250 pages of unfocused writing it feels unearned. The reader barely learned how those who won the hard fought battle for the union benefited. How their conditions improved are never explored fully, just the conditions of their inital contract are mentioned. Instead, it focuses on questions the author was asked that felt too invasive or how she was caught sleeping with a dude or Vladimir Nabokov's thoughts on moths. So, I could care less by the end.
After not contextualizing much of any of the story, the book ends by saying how there is a resurgence in labor organizing with more strikes than there have been in decades. That sort of information was missing througout most of the narrative even though it could easily have served as a motivating force for the text. The author then makes a call to action under this vague idea/buzzword of solidarity and the importance of union organizing, yet after 250 pages of unfocused writing it feels unearned. The reader barely learned how those who won the hard fought battle for the union benefited. How their conditions improved are never explored fully, just the conditions of their inital contract are mentioned. Instead, it focuses on questions the author was asked that felt too invasive or how she was caught sleeping with a dude or Vladimir Nabokov's thoughts on moths. So, I could care less by the end.
January 13, 2022
An absolutely stunning and powerful book.
May 21, 2025
This is a very moving and beautifully written account of an organizing campaign to unionize laundry workers in Phoenix, Arizona in the early 2000s, written from the perspective of Daisy (a white middle class staff organizer with UNITE) as a kind of love letter to Alma (the lead inside organizer and one of the many immigrant low wage workers at the Sodexho laundry factory in Phoenix) � following not only the ups and downs of the multi-year campaign, but also the growth, rupturing and eventual mending of their friendship.
I would recommend this book to anyone thinking through all the messiness, tensions, and contradictions of organizing, what labour organizing (or organizing more generally) really looks like, the line between solidarity and the conflation/cooptation of other people’s struggles, what we mean when we say “we�, the power dynamics between workers/inside organizers and outside/paid staff organizers, the dangers and realities of top-down organizing, the limits and absurdities of the law and legal process, and just all the hard feelings and relationship building and tough conversations and losses and forced compromises (and also self righteousness!) that can come with organizing.
I think so much writing that explores privilege tends to be a bit cringe, or self-indulgent and unnecessarily self-effacing without actually being productive � but I felt Daisy’s account was critical, rigorous, nuanced and brought up lots of necessary questions for thinking through what cross-class solidarity looks like � while also holding up a microscope to the shortcomings of top down organizing strategies.
The book also contains lots of interesting history on the garment worker labour movement, some of the internal union politics/strife within UNITE-HERE, and disagreements on organizing tactics (and imo raises important questions on the ethics of certain organizing tactics).
I would recommend this book to anyone thinking through all the messiness, tensions, and contradictions of organizing, what labour organizing (or organizing more generally) really looks like, the line between solidarity and the conflation/cooptation of other people’s struggles, what we mean when we say “we�, the power dynamics between workers/inside organizers and outside/paid staff organizers, the dangers and realities of top-down organizing, the limits and absurdities of the law and legal process, and just all the hard feelings and relationship building and tough conversations and losses and forced compromises (and also self righteousness!) that can come with organizing.
I think so much writing that explores privilege tends to be a bit cringe, or self-indulgent and unnecessarily self-effacing without actually being productive � but I felt Daisy’s account was critical, rigorous, nuanced and brought up lots of necessary questions for thinking through what cross-class solidarity looks like � while also holding up a microscope to the shortcomings of top down organizing strategies.
The book also contains lots of interesting history on the garment worker labour movement, some of the internal union politics/strife within UNITE-HERE, and disagreements on organizing tactics (and imo raises important questions on the ethics of certain organizing tactics).
November 28, 2022
I can't disagree with Gabriel Winant's great review () and others who have said this is the most emotionally true depiction of a worker organizing campaign in the US that they have read. It took me a while to get into this book, but eventually I was so deeply into it that my partner had to repeatedly tell me to turn off the light and go to bed. True and sad and powerful and with some hope and reminders of where love and solidarity come in to organizing along with anger. I'm so glad that this is book is out there.
As a side benefit - as context and to lay out some of her fundamental uneases with the labor movement and her political evolution, the author delves into the history of Clara Lemlich and some of our other foremothers in garment worker organizing, relying on another wonderful, sad, true book: Common Sense and a Little Fire.
As a side benefit - as context and to lay out some of her fundamental uneases with the labor movement and her political evolution, the author delves into the history of Clara Lemlich and some of our other foremothers in garment worker organizing, relying on another wonderful, sad, true book: Common Sense and a Little Fire.
txdr
October 7, 2024txdr where x = I am doing something sort of similar to this, but very different, for work, and just can't make myself listen to an account of this type of work for funsies. It seems good though. I'd like to return to it.
October 14, 2024
Would get a 5/5 even if she wasn’t my boss
I’ve read a lot of labor books and this is the one that’s *written* the best and it’s not close
Also I want a whole other book just on the UNITE HERE divorce
I’ve read a lot of labor books and this is the one that’s *written* the best and it’s not close
Also I want a whole other book just on the UNITE HERE divorce
August 22, 2024
Took merely two months to finish and for good reason. Written weirdly and left me with a bad taste in my mouth at times (manipulative ways of organizers and such), but oddly compelling and inspiring nonetheless. Pitkin, practice what you preach.
April 3, 2025
Just the coolest book ever. I finished it while in the middle seat of an Amtrak train and I left my water bottle home and I was so thirsty so I went and bought a diet coke right while the cafe car was closing and had a really sweet conversation with the woman working there and then drank my diet coke with a straw in one of the bathrooms and it has to be the most emotional soda I've ever had.
October 23, 2022
I absolutely ate up this book. Loved it.
Pitkin does a fantastic job of telling her own personal story, outlining history of organizing, highlighting the complicated dynamics of inter-union politics and how race, class and background affect its operations and its members. Inspiring at times, infuriating at times, this book satisfied every bit of my union-loving spirit.
While it took me a hot minute to adjust to the format of the writing, a format to which I’m not at all accustomed, I’m appreciative of both the style and substance.
Pitkin does a fantastic job of telling her own personal story, outlining history of organizing, highlighting the complicated dynamics of inter-union politics and how race, class and background affect its operations and its members. Inspiring at times, infuriating at times, this book satisfied every bit of my union-loving spirit.
While it took me a hot minute to adjust to the format of the writing, a format to which I’m not at all accustomed, I’m appreciative of both the style and substance.
September 1, 2024
I got this from goodreads giveaways a while ago and finally got around to reading it.
This was an interesting and important case study about workers hidden from view in the medical world. I have often thought of them as well as other forms of dangerous medical labor such as facilities cleaners in all my time in hospitals. I did not know however just how dangerous these jobs were. Stories in this book included everything from serious burns to the reusing of already inefficient gloves that do not protect workers from needle sticks, constantly exposing them to disease. These people are handling the most dangerous of bodily fluids en masse with no real protection, abysmal pay, and regular mistreatment by bosses. Even worse, there is another much safer way than "soil sort" work , but it requires more machine maintenance and money, so companies instead choose to harm their workers to save a little. Of course, the company fought and intimidated the workers for trying to start a union. This is evil at its core, but the lengths they went to to fight were even moreso. It starts as verbal intimidation and escalated to stalking and violence.
Pitkin worked for a nonprofit helping people to organize. She discussed a lot of internal issues and the navigation of coming in as an outsider with many privileges. She also discussed the horrors of red tape and "leadership" of men in these organizations. I found these parts to be helpful.
Unfortunately, the memoiresque snippets of her relationship stuff felt out of place. It's not that I think she shouldn't discuss how her personal life affected organizing. It is important to show just how horrific fighting for unions can be. The stress of such a thing is a life destroyer. The author could not care properly for herself and also seemed to already be in an unstable place before it all started. My issue with the writing was more that it felt clunky and much of it sounded like she was talking directly to an ex. I didn't like the way she discussed her new trans partner, though I'm willing to forgive that due to language barriers and the reality that not everyone is mired in Queer community and lingo. In my 40s as Queer transmasc person myself even I tend to be behind the times on language.
I also wasn't a big fan of the moth stuff. I know what she was trying to do, but it was very shallow including even googling dream meanings and reporting from all of those sites often written by white woowoo people who also tell you what your "spirit animal" is. I think this book would have been better as a more journalistic effort, still including the authors experience, but focused more on the general union story.
My favorite parts of the book aside from the general story about the union fight were the really cool women/girl's labor histories that I did not know about. The first strike in the USA was actually Women have been dominating unions for some time and were refused leadership by men- a problem still present today unfortunately.
Overall an important story that I'm glad I read and learned about. I'm grateful to everyone involved in this fight and will definitely have them on my mind even more when getting medical care.
This was an interesting and important case study about workers hidden from view in the medical world. I have often thought of them as well as other forms of dangerous medical labor such as facilities cleaners in all my time in hospitals. I did not know however just how dangerous these jobs were. Stories in this book included everything from serious burns to the reusing of already inefficient gloves that do not protect workers from needle sticks, constantly exposing them to disease. These people are handling the most dangerous of bodily fluids en masse with no real protection, abysmal pay, and regular mistreatment by bosses. Even worse, there is another much safer way than "soil sort" work , but it requires more machine maintenance and money, so companies instead choose to harm their workers to save a little. Of course, the company fought and intimidated the workers for trying to start a union. This is evil at its core, but the lengths they went to to fight were even moreso. It starts as verbal intimidation and escalated to stalking and violence.
Pitkin worked for a nonprofit helping people to organize. She discussed a lot of internal issues and the navigation of coming in as an outsider with many privileges. She also discussed the horrors of red tape and "leadership" of men in these organizations. I found these parts to be helpful.
Unfortunately, the memoiresque snippets of her relationship stuff felt out of place. It's not that I think she shouldn't discuss how her personal life affected organizing. It is important to show just how horrific fighting for unions can be. The stress of such a thing is a life destroyer. The author could not care properly for herself and also seemed to already be in an unstable place before it all started. My issue with the writing was more that it felt clunky and much of it sounded like she was talking directly to an ex. I didn't like the way she discussed her new trans partner, though I'm willing to forgive that due to language barriers and the reality that not everyone is mired in Queer community and lingo. In my 40s as Queer transmasc person myself even I tend to be behind the times on language.
I also wasn't a big fan of the moth stuff. I know what she was trying to do, but it was very shallow including even googling dream meanings and reporting from all of those sites often written by white woowoo people who also tell you what your "spirit animal" is. I think this book would have been better as a more journalistic effort, still including the authors experience, but focused more on the general union story.
My favorite parts of the book aside from the general story about the union fight were the really cool women/girl's labor histories that I did not know about. The first strike in the USA was actually Women have been dominating unions for some time and were refused leadership by men- a problem still present today unfortunately.
Overall an important story that I'm glad I read and learned about. I'm grateful to everyone involved in this fight and will definitely have them on my mind even more when getting medical care.
January 22, 2023
This book was A Lot, but it was pretty good. I could have done without the moth stuff, but maybe that's a me problem.
I appreciated the significant detail of the union building, the inner turmoil, and overall transparency. I def learned a lot and enjoyed this book, but it wasn't a particularly fun read. I frequently felt emotionally exhausted and sad, which was probably the point. Anyway, good stuff regardless. I'd recommend
I appreciated the significant detail of the union building, the inner turmoil, and overall transparency. I def learned a lot and enjoyed this book, but it wasn't a particularly fun read. I frequently felt emotionally exhausted and sad, which was probably the point. Anyway, good stuff regardless. I'd recommend
April 12, 2022
Well written. Personal, honest and engaging book about real union organizing by a real union organizer.
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