Esther

It’s 1892 and you, Esther Klein, are a 17-year-old textile mill worker in the American northeast. You are new to the country and to industrial work, having worked previously on your parents’ farm in the old country. As much as you longed to come to America, your life as a poor Jewish industrial worker in the United States makes you have second thoughts. And life at the mill—why you and some of the other girls dream of organizing and standing up to the mill owners, but what you’ve seen of other labor organizing worries you! So tell me, Esther, what are the sources of your dissatisfaction as a poor woman, a worker, and a Jewish immigrant? Why have your dreams, of what life in America would be, changed?

When I first envisioned coming to America, I thought it would be a land that was full of opportunity. I envisioned it as a place in which even the most unfortunate of the unfortunate could come to live and flourish. A place in which financial and personal success was more than just possible with the right amount of work, spirit, and dedication... it was guaranteed. Turns out I was mistaken. Turns out all my ideas about how America was the land of opportunity proved false. Right now, America is nothing more to me than the mill I work in almost every single day. And I do despise the mill. Does that mean I despise America? Not necessarily. I do despise, however, how this country has been nothing but a letdown for me thus far.

Life at the mill hasn't been easy. I spend more hours than I care to count working the machines, and most of the breaks I take aren’t really what one would normally consider to be a break. Instead of relaxation, I do little but clean the machines or continue to tend to them in some other way. Quite honestly, they do not pay me anywhere near enough money to do this job. The hours are long and strenuous. The work is dull and monotonous. But there’s nothing I can really do. I’ve heard about workers in other parts of the country attempting to fight for better working conditions and pay, and from what I can tell, nothing good came out of it. Quite the opposite, in fact. As much as I hate the mill, it’s the only source of income I have right now. So even though I’m constantly mistreated, have horrible pay, and have nothing but contempt for this mill… I’m going to remain. It’s all I have now.

It’s not easy being Jewish in an overwhelmingly large Christian society. Most of my people are less fortunate than me at finding a permanent job. Their employers simply do not understand why they need to not come to work on Saturdays and observe the Sabbath. As such… they find themselves without work.,Constantly seeking employment in a place that does not truly accept us, even though America prides itself in its supposed religious tolerance. The only reason I still have a job is because I can’t afford to observe Sabbath. I am forced to shove my faith… my way of life… aside for a job I hate.

Is this truly freedom? Because if it is... then I'm genuinely, horribly frightened.