back wages

Why can’t kids today just work their way through college the way earlier generations did?

The answer to that question isn’t psychology. It’s math. A summer job just doesn’t have the purchasing power it used to, especially when you compare it with the cost of college.

Let’s take the example of a working-class student at a four-year public university who’s getting no help from Mom and Dad. In 1981-‘82, the average full cost to attend was $2,870. That’s for tuition, fees and room and board.

The maximum Pell Grant award back then for free tuition help from the government was $1,800. That leaves our hypothetical student on the hook for just about $1,000. Add in a little pocket money, too — say $35 a week. That makes an extra $1,820 for the year on top of the $1,000 tuition shortfall.

Now, $3.35 an hour was the minimum wage back then. So, making $2,870 meant working 842 hours. That’s 16 hours a week year-round — a decent part-time job. It’s also about nine hours a day for three straight months — a full-time, seven-day-a-week summer job. Or, more likely, a combination of both. In short: not impossible. Far from it.

For today’s public university student, though, the numbers have all changed in the wrong direction.

Why Summer Jobs Don’t Pay

Illustration: Michelle Kondrich for NPR

the crossroads have seen too many girls
willing to sell their souls
for a beauty that already belonged to them.

a liminal space
where boundaries thin like wisps of smoke
in early dawn light.

but there is beauty in this too, soft pastel colours,
a quiet empty echo of laughter and then darkness,
encompassing and heavy, pressing into lungs
but still radiant somehow.

for now demons count souls
like dollar bills held close to devil red chests, smiles curling
because they think that they’ve won.

but one day those girls will see past black ringed promises
bartered at an intersection of road,
down to the skin that was already perfect
and that quiet empty echo of a soul that had been perfect too.

hell will see.
the four horsemen are nothing
compared to an army of girls ready to reclaim what is theirs.

l.s. | LIMINAL SPACE © 2017
To Understand Rising Inequality, Consider the Janitors at Two Top Companies, Then and Now
Focusing on core competence and outsourcing the rest has made U.S. companies lean, nimble and productive. It has also left lots of people worse off.
By Neil Irwin

By Neil Irwin

Gail Evans and Marta Ramos have one thing in common: They have each cleaned offices for one of the most innovative, profitable and all-around successful companies in the United States.

For Ms. Evans, that meant being a janitor in Building 326 at Eastman Kodak’s campus in Rochester in the early 1980s. For Ms. Ramos, that means cleaning at Apple’s headquarters in Cupertino, Calif., in the present day.

In the 35 years between their jobs as janitors, corporations across America have flocked to a new management theory: Focus on core competence and outsource the rest. The approach has made companies more nimble and more productive, and delivered huge profits for shareholders. It has also fueled inequality and helps explain why many working-class Americans are struggling even in an ostensibly healthy economy.

The $16.60 per hour Ms. Ramos earns as a janitor at Apple works out to about the same in inflation-adjusted terms as what Ms. Evans earned 35 years ago. But that’s where the similarities end.

Ms. Evans was a full-time employee of Kodak. She received more than four weeks of paid vacation per year, reimbursement of some tuition costs to go to college part time, and a bonus payment every March. When the facility she cleaned was shut down, the company found another job for her: cutting film.

Ms. Ramos is an employee of a contractor that Apple uses to keep its facilities clean. She hasn’t taken a vacation in years, because she can’t afford the lost wages. Going back to school is similarly out of reach. There are certainly no bonuses, nor even a remote possibility of being transferred to some other role at Apple.

Yet the biggest difference between their two experiences is in the opportunities they created. A manager learned that Ms. Evans was taking computer classes while she was working as a janitor and asked her to teach some other employees how to use spreadsheet software to track inventory. When she eventually finished her college degree in 1987, she was promoted to a professional-track job in information technology.

Less than a decade later, Ms. Evans was chief technology officer of the whole company, and she has had a long career since as a senior executive at other top companies. Ms. Ramos sees the only advancement possibility as becoming a team leader keeping tabs on a few other janitors, which pays an extra 50 cents an hour.

They both spent a lot of time cleaning floors. The difference is, for Ms. Ramos, that work is also a ceiling.

Continue reading the main story

having a dutch government that gives you a rent cut if you make below a certain amount of money and rent your own place within a certain price range is a big part of it 

that’s how there’s so many studio apartment buildings aimed at students, I pay 400 for my own 330 square ft place in the middle of the city with digital tv, internet & unlimited laundromat use

Creepypasta #1188: Moonshine For The Devil

Length: Super long

It goes without saying that barista isn’t a glamorous position. I wear the hat and apron on a weekly basis, but it’s a step up from where I was months ago. Late night gas station work isn’t safe, even if the money was better. I was dealing with the morning crowd, my regulars. The old, blue-hair that wanted decaff with sugar. That one person always wearing obnoxious, overpriced headphones, always gets cold brew. My usual. We’re located by a highway. I see regulars and fresh faces day in, day out.

A normal routine, until a few weeks ago. I was greeted with someone that seemed familiar, but that I knew wasn’t a regular. I know my regulars. Average height, chubby, white woman with brown hair. Her glasses were crooked, and scratched to hell. Not once in our entire transaction did she look up at me.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

She was poking about on her phone, not even glancing up. “Yeah, hi. Uh, triple, venti, soy, no foam latte.”

I punched the order into my POS, as always. “Triple, venti, soy, no foam latte,” I repeated back to her. Sucks to be the barista to make that drink. “Order name?”

Still tapping at her phone, she hummed to herself. “Hmm… Danica.”

“Okay, Danica. We’ll call your drink when it’s ready!”

“Thanks.” She paid in cash, and stuffed a dollar in the tip jar.

Her order was ready in no time, and she was still on her phone when she got it. She probably sat at her table, off in the corner, for a half hour, before heading out the door. That was her routine. For four days, that was how we did things. Sure, sometimes I wasn’t on register, but I knew her order.

Who knows how long we’d have done that song and dance, without one of my coworkers being a jerk about it. See, Danica’s order was kind of a pain to make, and it seemed like she was going to become a regular in our shop. One of my more catty coworkers didn’t like making anything more complicated than a pumpkin spice latte. She’d also just loved to give people full fat milk if they ordered skim and she wasn’t in a good mood.

Danica came again the next day, eyes still locked on her phone. “Triple, venti, soy, no foam latte.”

“Triple, venti, soy, no foam latte! Anything else?”

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Dogs don’t wear clothes!

Request: Can you do #47 with Tom? Thanks!

Summary: Tom leaves you with Tessa for a few hours *insert smirking emoji*

A/n: Yo this is the second drabble within 24 hours bc I’m drowning in yours guys’ requests.

Tom trusted you with a lot of things, Tessa now becoming one of them. Tessa was his precious baby, and you both knew that if anything happened to her under your supervision, it would not turn out good. 

He was leaving her with you while he ran a few errands in town. A though came to your mind that brought a sly smile to your features. You bring your attention to the grey haired pitbull sitting next to you. Upon feeling your gaze on her, she rolled over exposing her belly, pleading you with her eyes to give her attention. You joined her on the floor and rubbed her belly, “How’d you like to mess around with Tommy, huh?” you asked her playfully. Her tail began to wag wildly and lipped her chops multiple times. You giggled thinking about how Tom will react when he returns home.

Surely enough Tom walked through the door with two bags in hand. Tessa raced to the porch to greet him, “Y/n, what is Tessa wearing?!” Tom called to you. You laughed from your seat in the living room, not giving him an answer. He came around the corner with Tessa prancing alongside him. You had fashioned a pink tutu, pink tank-top and pink bunny ears onto Toms dearest dog. His mother had bought the outfit for her for Halloween. But Tom did not allow that nonsense to be placed on his dog. 

“What did you do to my precious darling?” He asked you bewildered. You continued laughing at the priceless look on his face, ”I made her a pretty ballerina,” you spoke. Looking over to Tessa she was perched in the middle of the room with her tail waging back and forth, hitting one of the couches every so often, “No, no, no. Dogs don’t wear clothes! Especially Tessa,” Tom whined, flailing his arms around.

“Oh come on, look at her! She loves her new outfit!” you exclaimed,

“No she doesn’t. She’s just glad you gave her attention!”

“Oh come on Tommy,” you laughed, laying back on the couch.

“No, no, don’t ‘Tommy’ me. Your actions are unforgivable. You’ve lost Tessa privileges,” He made his way over to the pitbull, and gently took the pink ears off her head. She then attacked his face with licks, and then took off down the hall. 

Tom sighed and stood up straight, looking over to you. You brought your hand up to your mouth, hiding your growing smile, and muffling your laughs. He shook his head and started making his way over to you, “You’re gonna pay for that,” he muttered. 

Once he reached the couch you were laid on, he swiftly brought his hands down to either one of your hips and began tickling your skin. You squealed in protest, and pushed at Toms shoulders to get him off. “Thomas stop it!” you cried out in fits of laughter and giggles. His features lit up and a wide smile spread over his lips. “You tortured my poor Tessa!” he proclaimed.

All you could do was shake you head. You were out of breath, and all you could do was smile as you tried to squirm out of Toms hold. 

Tom grew tired from his tickle attack, and picked upt he pink bunny ears and slide them onto your head laughing even more at the sight. He then slumped in between your legs and rested his head on your chest. You both let out a few huffs, as you relaxed on the furniture. “I’m not kidding, you’ve lost Tessa privileges, and will not be left alone with her for a while,” Tom laughed to you, 

You placed a hand on his head and twirled a piece of his hair between your fingers, ”Oh you don’t mean that,” you giggled,

“You’re right. You’re lucky I love you,” 

Okay so this question might be a bit confusing but I need some information on this if anyone has had experience with this or knows anything about this…

So my work is trying to get workers to clock out after a certain time and immediately clock back in at a different wage. Example: a worker might be making $12 an hour normally but after 9PM they have to clock out and clock back in at the wage of $10 an hour. 

I’m just curious if anyone has had any experience with this type of request and if it’s even legal. A co-worker said that this is illegal in a state that they used to live in but I don’t know if there’s any truth to that. I wouldn’t even know what to look up regarding this kind of practice, like is there a name for this? If anyone has any info about this let me know. I live in Arizona, btw. 

Colleagues Pt. 1/? --- Jason Todd x fem. reader

Y/N works for Wayne Enterprises as an intern while they are trying to pay their way through college. Jason is deciding to take part in the family business leading to a clumsy first meeting with y/n. 
This is my first fic so a little bit of slack is greatly appreciated. Hope you guys enjoy and trust me, I have so much more planned.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 965

The internship at Wayne Enterprises was a dream come true. The barely over minimum wage job back at your college library just wasn’t paying the bills anymore. Then this puppy landed right on your lap.

Experience? Check. Experience with a high profile billionaire? Check. But most importantly it provided actual checks.

With (y/c/h) styled back out of your face and a nasty midterm paper burning for attention on your laptop, you were typing away swiftly trying to align Mr. Wayne’s appointments.

You weren’t the only one working in the various cubicles so you did not bother looking up every time footsteps approached you. This included the two pairs of footsteps currently headed towards your desk. Refusing to partake in any distraction that would keep you from getting home early, you did not bother raising your head when they appeared to stop before you. Someone cleared their throat and you finally glanced up. 

Into a bright pair of hardened blue eyes. You quickly shot up knocking stuff off your desk and you clumsily tried fixing the mess. 

“Ah, Mr. Wayne, I am so sorry,” you finally decided your attempt at fixing the mess only furthered the embarrassment so you finally take a deep breath and look at him.

“It is quite alright Ms. Y/L/N. I hope I did not startle you.” he says with actual sympathy. This just enflamed the embarrassment running fiery hot in your red cheeks. 

“Oh, no sir. Sorry, I was concentrated on my work,” you brushed a stray piece of y/c/h hair of your face and give him an attempt at a winning smile. Only to hear a snort come from behind Mr. Wayne.

You tilt your head to get a look at the man lending his two-cents. He is taller than Bruce by the smallest amount to be noticeable, has jet black hair that falls naturally back excusing a few strands of hair of which one is white, and he has the devil written on his face. Excuse the attractiveness, you give the man the best glare to accommodate his gentlemanly snort.

“What can I do for you sir?” you ask politely turning back to Mr. Wayne.

“I wanted to ask if you do not mind making copies of emails that I am going to send to you and having them on my desk tonight?” he asks.

No. No can do. College and all that jazz.

“Yes, of course sir,” you chirp and throw in that ‘dazzling’ smile just for kicks.

He returns with a handsome grin and thanks you. He walks by you towards his office with his partner-in-crime following suit.

When you think they are gone you bend down underneath your desk to pick up a mini Eiffel Tower that had been send airborne amidst the turmoil that is your awkwardness.

“Don’t forget about this,” you hear a deep voice from behind causing you to jump and hit your head on the 3 inches of solid wood. 

The man snorts clueing you into his identity. You look at him glaring while he has an easy smile resting on his face intensifying your irritation. Grabbing the photograph out of his hand, you place it back on your desk with a mumbled thanks.

You sit down hoping he can take a hint better than he can use his manners. 

“I am Jason,” he says with a smooth undertone. 

Ah, any other day and with any other interruption maybe buddy,

“Cool,” you respond maybe too harshly but giving your name just suggests a want for further conversation. You start typing again hopefully ridding of Jason once and for all but his figure lingers behind you still. 

“Who is that?” he asks and you look over your shoulder to see where he is pointing.

“Oh, um, that’s my nephew,” you say awkwardly. He is referring to the picture he had picked up for you. He then pulls a brave stunt and leans against your desk right next to your computer forcing you to take in his presence.

“Listen, pal. I don’t want to be rude but I have a lot of work to get done and I would appreciate the space to do it,“ you say coolly. He looks confused and stares at me. 

“What?” you ask exasperated at this point.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks obviously amused.

“Yes, Jason, we have been over this.” you say waving my hand.

He chuckles and crosses his arms. Then it hits you.

“Wait, are you Jason Todd?” you ask wincing. 

“In the flesh,” he laughs and outstretches his arms.

Great, now you have ticked off the boss’ dead-then-mysteriously-alive son. You rub your face and groan.

He laughs again.

“I propose a bargain,” he says and you look at him questioningly.

“And that would be..”

“Go out with me and I will forget about this when talking to dear ole dad,” he smirks feeling victorious. This only infuriates you more.

“Listen, Jason,” you stand up and jab a finger at his chest, “How about instead, we don’t go on a pity date, there is no blackmailing and you just don’t talk to your dad about our encounter and I can continue my work while you go fencing or whatever you rich people do,” 

His eyes widen while yours just roll back in your head. Just then the phone rings and you pick it up.

“Wayne Enterprises. How can I assist you?” you say into the phone and sit down, making sure to face away from Jason. You help the customer and swivel your chair around to find him gone. 

With a whole night of work ahead of you, Jason will be the last thing on your mind. But that is definitely not the case for the not-so-smug-now Wayne kid that night. 

baracuntjack  asked:

Hi! I'm doing a presentation on the effects if minimum wage gets raised to $15 an hour and I was curious on your personal opinion if minimum wage should go up to $15

Minimum Wage should go up to $15, or above that (considering the living wage in cities like Vancouver is more than $20 per hour).

People should be paid at a level where they are not in poverty, or are not forced to work multiple jobs to get above the poverty line.

My evidence:

Ontario corporations can afford to pay decent wages | Toronto Star

Galen Weston Knows Paying a Living Wage is Bad for Capitalism

More than 50 Canadian economists sign open letter backing $15 minimum wage

4 Economists Explain Why Ontario gets it right with move to higher minimum wage

A report that analyzed every minimum-wage hike since 1938 should put a bunch of nonsense ideas to rest

Higher Alberta Minimum Wage Benefits Both Workers And Employers

Raising BC’s minimum wage to $15 makes good economic sense

California’s $15 Minimum Wage Wouldn’t Destroy The Economy

New study blows another hole in the Fraser Institute’s false claims about raising the minimum wage

Alberta gets it right on $15 minimum wage

Opinion: Minimum-wage fears imagined, but benefits to poor real

To improve a child’s health, follow Alberta’s lead and give parents a raise

Don’t Believe Claims $15 Minimum Wage Will Cost Jobs

FACT CHECK: Calgary Herald attack on Notley’s minimum wage plan unfounded

Mandatory living wage a success in first Canadian municipality to adopt the practice

Walmart Prices Would Rise By Pennies If It Paid Workers More Than Poverty Wages

If Walmart Paid Its 1.4 Million U.S. Workers a Living Wage, It Would Result In Almost No Pain For The Average Customer

Only You | 7

Overview: It’s junior year and Riley’s best friend develops a crush on her first love, Lucas. Not wanting to stand in between them she lies and says she’s okay with them being together. As it turns out, Lucas has an older trouble making brother that none of his friends knew about. One that just so happens to take an interest in Riley.
Author’s Notes: In this AU, the triangle never happened and Farkle never outed Riley’s true feelings. [Italics indicate flashbacks.]
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Chapter Seven: “Hustle.”
Word Count: 2,612

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the aftermath of Riley confronting Jackson he decides he has a lot to make up for. He was tired of letting the people he cares about down so he wanted to do right by her and because she wanted a taste of what life is like when you don’t play by the rules he had the perfect plan.

When the following Friday rolls around Riley waits for her parents to fall asleep before sneaking out her bay window and meeting up with him a block away from her apartment. She knew it was risky behavior considering her and her parents had just established an understanding with each other but she wasn’t done being careless. 

Not just yet.

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Time to unite and fight the right, not collude and be co-opted

I’m appalled by WoLF and other radical feminists walking into the co-optation trap with the Heritage Foundation and Fox News. We are in a political emergency. Now is the time to unite and fight the right, not get in line with them. If radical feminists are going to stretch outside their comfort zone to try to win protections for women, the Heritage Foundation is not where to go to achieve that end. Finding common cause with liberal feminists and trans people is difficult work, but possible and necessary. Many trans people do not recognize their own lived experiences in the rhetorical excesses of the extremist trans activists–and many do not find their real interests represented by these extremists’ current campaigns. Many, many liberal women feel ill at ease with their own interests being run over–they are simply afraid to stand up or second-guessing themselves. Many are unsure and confused, watching and making their decisions about where to stand based on who else will be standing with them.

If WoLF’s interested in coalition work, it could make bridges there. But as we’ve seen, they’ve been unwilling even to listen to other radical feminists when we’re also detransitioned women. These collusions with the Right are exactly the type of wildly off target actions we’ve tried to question and interrupt in their strategy approach, brought to a worst-case scenario conclusion. I watched the Heritage panel discussion in horror as a Fest dyke spoke about transwomen infiltrating Michfest–as though the likes of the Heritage Foundation had not also infiltrated and tried to shut down Michfest, infiltrated the Land and the message boards, tried to dig up some salacious s&m content in order to paint us all as perverts–and as a sinister threat to women and children. The right doesn’t differentiate much between those they consider perverts and deviants. When the Right says they’re concerned about who is using women’s accommodations, don’t think for a minute that lesbians, gay men, or anyone who gets mistaken as such will not be harmed by their “solution.”

WoLF are working with one of the women who passed HB2 in North Carolina. To my knowledge, she’s the only one in their so-called “coalition” who has been part of actually passing legislation on this issue, and it was HB2. Do they not understand what HB2 is?

It’s not just a bathroom bill, but even if it had been, you gotta ask the question–who will be hurt by this law in North Carolina? Safe bet Black lesbians will get hit the worst. Not white autogynephiles, primarily–they’ve got their white male privilege to insulate them. It’ll come back on Lesbians. Butch dykes. Bearded women. Flaming gay men, particularly if they’re Black. Getting everyone on high alert about “evil interlopers” in the bathroom does cause additional hardship for anyone who is perceived as ambiguously sexed, trans or not.

But it was not just a bathroom bill. HB2 eliminated rights and employment protections very broadly–removing anti-discrimination protections on the basis of RACE, SEX, NATIONALITY, RELIGION. It removed any chance of legal remedy for any such discrimination in North Carolina. It removed all protections on lesbian and gay rights to public accommodations. It banned any future ordinances which could try to win them back. It eliminated minimum wage standards and health insurance standards for public contractors. It eliminated family leave policies, child welfare protections, and requirements for workers to be allowed to take breaks. It banned future ordinances to reverse those losses.

And the blond lady on the panel with Miriam Ben Shalom and Mary Lou Singleton–Kami Mueller–you know, the one who could barely conceal her distaste for those she sees as freaks whether they be lesbian, gay, or trans–spoke proudly about how she helped pass that legislation. She told a story about being a mom against having her children, nieces and nephews forced into co-ed bathrooms and against insane gender ideology being forced on them in school. And that story was the ammunition she brought to the battle for HB2. That’s a nice story, I guess, if you ignore why she has an issue with these things. But it’s not the story of what HB2 actually is. Or who she actually is. She’s not some random mom who happened into a conflict with her kids’ school. She’s been working in PR and strategy for the Republican party, organizing against women’s reproductive rights, and generally doing Focus on the Family-esque campaigns for her entire career. In fact, both of the right wing women who participated on that panel are PR and Communications professionals. The WoLF women…do not have that background. They have so badly underestimated the right wing women. This is no equal coalition between individual women from different walks of life. This is a power move by the right, co-opting the only visible feminist resistance in order to entirely neutralize any chance of its message gaining traction or appearing reasonable.

Nobody of conscience is going to stand with WoLF when it cozies up to the elite power-holders on the right. They are allowing themselves to be co-opted and used. Being co-opted isn’t just about what you believe or what you say. It’s about what you represent, what you have been willing to compromise, and what you are being used to accomplish. It doesn’t matter what anyone says. It matters what end you’re serving. Just like HB2 wasn’t about the compelling stories some women told about protecting the legal category of “female.” The right’s only interest in that legal category is as a mechanism of control and repression.

It says a lot when WoLF can see their way clear to “common cause” with those whose stake in this particular issue is the repression of women, including lesbians; gay men; and anyone they mistake for one of the above. Please understand who we are talking about here. The Heritage Foundation is funded in part by the Koch brothers and the DeVos family, was instrumental in selecting Trump’s transition team. They did oust Jason Richwine for being too overtly white supremacist, but I think that was strategic with regard to his being too obvious about it, not a real difference in values. Now that “MAGA” is the order of the day, the game has changed on that front too. The Heritage Foundation’s current leadership is a Tea Party guy who has been taking them in an even bolder direction than their usual.

It’s not clear whether there are direct ties with The Family, but these people are of that ilk. The Family are the US-based right wing political organization that brought Uganda its “kill the gays” bill. These are people who want a theocracy here in the US, and they are closer to achieving that than they have ever been. Many of them literally think lesbians, other “bad women,” and gay men should be stoned to death.They are anti-poor, anti-worker and white supremacist as a matter of course. But they’re getting savvier about how to represent those values. They have dressed it up pretty and they are smiling politely to your face. For now.

Miriam Ben Shalom noted that she wasn’t being yelled at and was treated respectfully at Heritage Foundation, whereas radiqueers shouted her down at the last panel discussion she participated in. The Heritage crowd might not be yelling, but it’s only because they know how to cook a frog–and what they are up to is far, far more dangerous. WoLF’s strategy is to set aside “differences” to work with them.

But WoLF–despite its stated value of female solidarity and the greater salience of sex over “gender identity”–could never and would never do the work to make common cause with, say, transmen. Hell, they couldn’t even work with radical feminist detransitioned dykes. We were ready and willing to talk to them about refining their strategy into something less allergic to nuance and help equip them to bridge subcultural differences–but instead they’ve doubled down on their bludgeon tactics, metastasized their strategy into something dangerous to most women. It’s very telling that they got down with Heritage instead of ever listening to the likes of us.

It’s not a “coalition” when you’ve walked into the den of patriarchal power and handed over the collective credibility of radical feminists in an attempt to make a devil’s bargain. Do not think for a minute that a right wing think tank and social engineering force would champion your radical feminist cause if they thought it would actually help you win. Understand–at this political moment, if all you have to say to the Heritage Foundation is “look, we have this one thing in common, for opposite reasons”–you are basically asking the big mean daddy to protect you. That is never gonna work in favor of women, of female human beings, collectively. And make no mistake about which women will be hurt first and worst.

And because WoLF’s the only big public radical feminist organization, by extension they’ve allowed any women who organize or write under that banner to be co-opted as well, unless we speak up loudly enough to say no to this. Fox News is pretty loud. The Heritage Foundation is pretty loud. WoLF have made our work–those of us who actually try to organize on points of female solidarity, regardless of political difference–next to impossible. And maybe that was the point, at least from the right’s perspective.

But I’m interested in doing the opposite of what they’re doing. I actually don’t care about calling it radical feminism. You can call it whatever you want. Call it George. I care more about what it accomplishes in our lives than in the name. I have plenty of common cause with many who believe radical feminism is anathema, though they may not truly understand it. (Allying with the right will not help them understand.) Regardless, I can hold those disagreements, some of which come down to semantics, far more readily than a “disagreement” over whether female human beings ought to have bodily autonomy, or a “disagreement” over the human rights of women, including lesbians; gay men; people of color; Muslims; or Jews.

I argue with my parents a lot about how hard my life has been and they always always always tell me off, because I have it WAY easier than they did back in the 80’s.

Something they always bring up is the internet. Apparently they didn’t have the internet!! Imagine that!! Going to the library and looking at references and atlases and microfiche copies of hundred-year-old newspapers. Oh wait, we have the internet now, which also has those things… but not in any order, and who knows if those sites we get that info from are even credible. It takes a lot longer to do research now than back in the 80’s. In the 80’s you didnt need to question every source because there werent ‘bad’ sources. And then you have to consider those really old newspapers and articles and journals, and even scientific papers. Most of them are REALLY OLD. So old that the paper companies havent had time or the will or the want to put them online. So all those sources, which are probably hidden away in storage facilities or hidden behind subscription fees or lost to time are no longer accessible. AT ALL. So yeah, we may have the internet to speed things up a bit, but that doesnt mean it’s speeding everything up.

Next item is jobs. My parents are Gen X. Gen X was almost guaranteed jobs in the 80’s and 90’s when they were graduating high school. My mom has had jobs since she was 11! I work now where my dad got HIS first job when he was 15. A lot of companies needed people back then. The job market favored Gen X. But now, as Gen Z is starting to graduate, a lot of us are finding that there are no jobs for us, and if we are, it’s either by luck or through someone we know. My job is at a restaurant that I’ve been going to literally my entire life. I know them. And I have cousins and aunts and uncles who either need someone to work or know someone who could take me. But even then, those jobs arent paying livable wages. Back in the 80’s when my parents graduated, they had jobs pretty much right away, out of high school. Nowadays it’s expected that you went to college amd have a degree for jobs you dont even NEED degrees in! And as we know from the Millennials, college is a waste of money. It’s actually more worthwhile to get a basic job out of high school now and stay with your parents until either a) you marry and get a house or b) save up and pay for community college. And dont forget all the stress placed on students now. In my parents’ time, C was good. Now, if you’re not getting A’s in every class your parents think you’re the dumbest human on earth. Or even worse, they dont even care what you do! And so now theres a good chunk of Gen Z who just dont have even the basic skills needed to live, or raise a family. And all that stress is also causing some of the highest rates of depression, anxiety, suicide, and mental illnesses weve ever seen!

I’ve even done the math on this. The typical college student takes 5 classes, or 15 hours a week. Add to that 8hrs PER CLASS every week to study, as the teachers suggest, and that brings it to 55 hours a week. Next, add commute times. On average the college commuter puts about 10 hours a week just into commuting. So now we have 65 hours in one week of average college. That’s not just a job, that’s a job on overtime! And we have to pay for that!!! And even then our parents expect us to somehow have a job while we’re in school??? That’s 105 hours minimum, assuming you can put that into your schedule. Assuming you dont miss a train or get stuck in traffic, that means you have 63 hours to live the rest of your life, including eating, peeing, grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry etc etc etc. Let’s say you devote 21 hrs a week to that (3 a day, which is very conservative). That would mean you’d only have time for 6 hours of sleep every day. Which for all teens and most people 20-25, is simply not enough.

And as a final point. The 80’s were pretty great. It was the end of the visible Cold War, the planet hadn’t been nuked, and the music was okay. Nowadays we have Homeland Security, SWAT teams, police, rioters, LITERAL NAZIS, and a plethora of other bad people in our society that they didnt have back then that we all have to worry about. We as a generation have never known a time of peace. The oldest of us, born in '95 and '96, are included in that too. Because while most people dont realize, we’ve been at war with muslim extremists since Sadaam Husein’s group sent THE US GOVERNMENT an OFFICIAL DECLARATION OF WAR. AND THEY IGNORED IT! AND THAT WAS 1994. We also have Russia and China to fear, because of Russia’s antics and fear over declaring war on North Korea, which by the way have NUKES, and have been chucking said nukes in OUR DIRECTION, because that would put U.S. troops directly on the Chinese border. Oh, and global warming and climate change. The West coast is on fire, we had 4 hurricanes in 2 weeks, and something is going on in Mexico. Europe is having issues too, and India is literally drowning on Monsoon.

So yes parents, you definitely had it harder than us Dependents do.

Apologies to the anon who asked for revolutionary headcanons to get you through today’s awfulness. Tumblr did a weird glitch and ate your ask when I tried to answer.

Anyway! Here are some Tatooine revolution headcanons. Fires on the Outer Rim ‘verse, because I haven’t talked about that one in a while and tbh it has the most epic revolution. (Here’s the original post with the outline for that ‘verse, for anyone just joining in.)

  • Although Dooku does buy Shmi and Kitster’s freedom when he first goes with Anakin to Tatooine, they don’t pay for anyone else. (Dooku very much begins as that well-intentioned outsider, but he learns.) Shmi adamantly insists that they can’t buy people’s freedom, because people are not things and freedom is not something for sale.
  • Instead they run people on the underground networks, through the secret surgeries, and safely away. Sometimes this gets pretty intense.
  • Shmi has many times made house calls to the slave quarters late in the night and performed the surgeries right there, practically under the masters’ noses.
  • More than once, Anakin, Kitster, and Melee have actually shown up and just taken people from where they were working, provided their masters weren’t watching. Slaves are sometimes sent out into the desert to salvage wreckage, particularly after the podraces. It takes the masters a while to realize that if they send their slaves out unsupervised they will disappear.
  • Of course, even if they are supervised they might disappear anyway. Melee’s a dead shot with a blaster, Kitster’s quite handy as well, and Anakin still has his lightsaber - and the Force as his ally. And they’re hardly the only ones out there rescuing people, either.
  • Once the freedom fighters have built up enough of a guerilla force, they start hitting the Hutt shipping lines: the caravans going to and from Jabba’s palace and the major cities, the slaving transports bound for the auction houses in Mos Eisley and Mos Espa, the ports where people are shipped in from off planet. With every place they hit, their numbers and their strength grow.
  • Shmi makes sure that all the rescued people have food, shelter, and medical care. It’s not long before there are a string of clinics in all the major cities, still largely underground but known by word of mouth. They perform the surgeries to remove the transmitters, but they also treat illness, malnutrition, and the wounds inflicted by slavery. There are even some rudimentary prosthetics available for those who need them.
  • The first city to be freed is Mos Espa. The people take Gardulla’s palace on the first day of Marokkepu. Gardulla herself is barricaded in her throne room and holds out for another two days, protected by a handful of guards and surrounded every night by the blaze of bonfires and the singing of the former slaves as they celebrate their freedom.
  • On the third day, Gardulla attempts an escape, and is caught. Some of the people want to kill her, but Shmi stops them. It’s not mercy that stays her hand. She offers Gardulla a deal: the Hutt will free all of her slaves housed in her residences in the other cities, and deactivate their transmitters. She will surrender all of her wealth in order to pay reparation and back wages to the people she had enslaved. And she will aid the revolutionaries in treating with the other Hutts.
  • Desperate, Gardulla agrees. She probably plans to double cross Shmi at the first opportunity, but she isn’t counting on the fact that Shmi is actually a very canny politician, or the fact that there are two Jedi with her.
  • In the end all of the Hutts, even Jabba, make a similar deal before leaving the planet with most of their cronies. Then the process of rebuilding begins.
  • The newly established free government of Tatooine is modeled on the social structure of the Quarters. Everyone is to have a voice. The elders or Grandparents, as the spiritual leaders and storytellers of their communities, are held int he greatest respect at local, regional, and planetary assemblies, but the meetings are open to all. Grandparents are recognized speakers at assemblies, but again, anyone can speak.
  • Shmi Skywalker is chosen as Speaker for the People, a position that Outlanders often assume is the equivalent of a president or elected monarch. But in fact it’s much closer to the role of ambassador. The Speaker for the People is chiefly engaged in representing the people of Tatooine to other planetary governments - whether that be in dealing with the Republic, or, later, serving as Tatooine’s representative to the Free Alliance.

Of course, there’s a white working class in amerika. Settlers reminds readers of Engels’ point that “there are many working classes” (my emphasis). In world history, a great variety of working classes. The idea that there’s only one kind of working class – exploited, noble, urban and industrial, male-centered, politically class-conscious – is a cardboard abstraction.

That’s why Walter Rodney didn’t like the term, wanted to use “producers” instead. The white working class is a particular kind of working class: one that is an oppressor class, by its very nature wedded to capitalism, and not a proletariat (the proletariat is the lowest, most oppressed class in society).

A working class isn’t primarily determined or shaped by the fact of working for wages. The prison warden works for a wage, after all, while the Afrikan slaves who built amerika on their backs never were wage-laborers. What is determining is the extraction of surplus value. Technically, when we say a class is exploited what we mean is that capitalism extracts surplus value (what becomes profits in the level of the marketplace) from its labor.

For example, no one can deny that there is a Boer white working class in South Africa (at least there is at this writing in 1992 – this is only an example). They exist in the millions, in mines and offices and factories. They are wage-laborers. Yet, as a whole, they produce no (as in zero) surplus value.

Economic studies show that all the surplus value created in South Africa is created by Afrikan labor. The Boer white workers’ wage-labor is merely an indirect mechanism for them to share in the exploiting of Afrikans.

That’s why Afrikan workers live in dusty Soweto and the white working class lives in ranch-style homes with cars, appliances, .357 magnums, swimming pools and cheap Afrikan servants.

They are a working class, alright, but a parasitic one with no real class consciousness and no contribution to make to the liberating of the world.

It isn’t so hard to see that the same thing is true with the white working class in settler amerika (the only working classes anywhere in the world with lifestyles like the Boer workers in South Africa are those here in north amerika). David Gilbert and other white anti-imperialists certainly understand this. And as he warns: “We must guard against the mechanical notion that economic decline will in itself lessen racism… The white workers closest to the level of Third World workers can be the most virulent and violent in fighting for white supremacy.”

These are apt words for the 1990s, when new reformist illusions are being spread at the same time as David Duke and racist skinheads show the renewed appeal of the white Right.

—  J. Sakai, comments on “Looking At The White Working Class Historically“.