Chenda could have asked for a lot of things. As a garment worker living off maybe $200 a month, she hopes for a higher takeaway pay, fewer hours, more freedom, more free time… But when she stood in front of a crowd of her peers and foreign workers, who may be earning up to ten times as much as she does in a month, she asked for one thing. Recognition.
On Sunday, I visited an exhibition about garment workers’ experiences at Meta House in Phnom Penh’s swift-developing Tonle Bassac district. Rather than focus on the dim-lit factories and lines of machines, the photos were of homes, lunch shifts, neighborhood trash piles and late night meals after the factory closes. And rather than documentation from an outsider, the photos were taken by workers themselves–nine younger women who have spent their working careers in factories. Though their work attempts to define them, and politicians address them as one amalgamation, they showed their distinct personalities–from a lighthearted lover of football who wanted to encourage more healthy activities, to a young woman attentive to her mother’s needs and worries. And the photos are all greatly composed, with attention to light, composition, subject and wall placement.
I have not had as much opportunity to speak with garment workers in and outside Phnom Penh, but every time I do, I’m inspired by the resilience and solidarity. Though companies try to ensnare them in endless work shifts and financial straits, they have strong expressions and desires, and they’re unafraid to speak their minds.
Just as the ruling party may overgeneralize their concerns and appeal to the population with half-hearted promises at benefits and free health care, I believe sympathizers have the tendency to diminish their power. Some may see them as a helpless population, nervous and limited in their speech. However, some of the loudest voices I’ve heard in Cambodia are from garment workers, as well as those who have lost their land.
Whether a moral code is enforced by middle schools, mothers, or the law, we know when the burden is too high. We know when the powers in place are just trying to appease. And we know something must give. I think the future lies in these women, the ones who are telling their own stories with cameras, and who go beyond that, composing a protest song to sing to a crowd of Phnom Penh residents. These are the women who inspire me the most, and they will be the ones to carry Cambodia forward.