SEIU march 10.28

I don't mind being behind the camera. I enjoy it, actually. Constantly composing, reaching for the right angle, capturing that ephemeral truth before it's gone.

But I look into the tired eyes of the older women janitors and see my mother and I want to put the camera down and join them. My feet pounding again and again on the pavement in unison with theirs. The beat of my heart quickened to their pace. The momentum of the whole pushing us inexorably forward. Raising our voices high, loud, angry:

Justice for Janitors

My mother worked as a janitor when I was younger. She was a single mother raising three children. And we were undocumented.

We struggled.

My mom would work at least fourteen hours a day, sometimes six days a week. I remember my mom always being tired.

So, yeah, this is personal.

I'll be doing what I can as I hope everyone else will. It's impossible to provide even the basic necessities of a family on twenty dollars a day.