On the Line with Amazon Labor Union
On Friday, December 20, I trekked from Brooklyn to Staten Island to join Amazon warehouse workers as they prepared to join a historic nation-wide strike led by the International Brotherhood of Teamsters. The JFK8 warehouse was the first Amazon warehouse to affiliate with the Teamsters back in June, a journey a long time in the making. I had come wearing my long underwear because the weather reports for the weekend were grim. I arrived in Staten Island at 9 pm; by the time workers walked out at midnight, I’d stuffed a few hand-warmers into my shoes to thaw out my toes.
What could compel someone to spend three days outside in sub-freezing temperatures on Staten Goddamn Island? The bone-deep conviction of the workers that they deserve better than what they’re getting. Anthony, a worker on the picket line, told me that, as bad as the stories about Amazon were, when he started working at JFK8, “I found out it’s not just that bad, it’s even worse.”
Union leader Sophia asked people describe their issue with Amazon in one word. People said: “Favoritism”,”Pay”,”Stress”. One woman couldn’t keep it to a single word: “You go to Amazon to lose your hopes and dreams.”
Despite the weather and the reality of the uphill battle workers have ahead of them –– the only acknowledgement of the strike from corporate was the 24/7 presence of dozens of police vehicles –– the mood on the picket line was one of optimism. Workers coming onto the picket for their shift would embrace, dapping each other up like cousins at a family reunion. It was cold as hell but the union had invested in a few Mr Heaters that blast as hot as furnaces if you’re within two feet of them. We’d huddle around the propane tank like campers around a fire, toasting our hands and talking shit. The Mr Heaters burned holes into our coats, and the hand-warmers we stuffed into our gloves made having fingers just barely tolerable –– but the picket line lasted continuously for three whole days.
On the last night of the strike, December 23, we declared it Strikemas and blasted music through the evening. Some workers on their way into the warehouse decided to join us instead. Pat, a classic Italian-American Staten Island type and the union’s favorite shop steward, got on the mic to sing a special rendition of Frank Sinatra. “We did it our way” he crooned, while unionists clutched each other with wet eyes. You can tell that the union is getting stronger. You can see this is just the beginning. ––Cheryl Rivera