Yes ma’am

by Kellynn Wee

“Yes ma’am”: the words a migrant domestic worker in Singapore repeats most -- but they can mean much more than simple subservience.

The words that a migrant domestic worker in Singapore repeats most are probably “yes ma’am.”

“Pick up the kids at 3 pm after school.” “Yes ma’am.”

“Put less salt in the chicken next time.” “Yes ma’am.”

“Eat instant noodles for breakfast and dinner every day for the next year.”

Yes, ma’am.

But while marking #InternationalMigrantsDay, we investigate the meanings of “yes ma’am”, and how domestic workers are able to re-negotiate the terms of their employment by using the “yes ma’am” script to serve their own needs.

James Scott, an anthropologist writing about village status hierarchies in Malaysia, outlines his concept of the ‘theatre of power’. In this theatre, Scott argues, ‘public transcripts’ — commonly occurring patterns of communicating such as the “yes ma’am” dialogue — reflect expected social and cultural norms. They are used where one group (in this case, the employer) has power over another (here, the worker).

The public transcript of “yes ma’am” indicates a performance of deference, obedience, and submissiveness: standing in an attitude of listening and attentive politeness; ensuring that one’s tone of voice is quiet and respectful; and endeavouring never to contradict or argue with one’s employer.

We speak to two experienced Taiwan-bound domestic workers at a training centre in Jakarta.

Public transcripts occur alongside what Scott calls "hidden transcripts”: “offstage speeches, gestures, and practices that confirm, contradict, or inflect what happens in the public transcript” (Scott 1990: p. 4).

These hidden transcripts develop best when they are shared amongst those who are not in power. Domestic workers teach each other hidden transcripts to deal with difficult situations. These might include insufficient food, no/few days off, late payment of salaries, overwhelming workloads, lack of sleep, and expectation from the employer that they will  work in multiple households.

Without obvious instances of physical, verbal, or sexual abuse, and the need to pay off hefty loans ranging up to SGD $3000 (USD $2123) during the first 6-8 months of her contract, a migrant domestic worker may not wish to seek help from external authorities which might cost her her job.

So they turn to each other for advice instead. Experienced domestic workers say that there are ways to effectively communicate their needs to their employers — you just have to do it right. They know very well what an employer expects — and they are able to use the expected ‘public transcript' to their advantage.

“You need to be ‘down’ when you’re taking to the employer,” explains Nuraini, an Indonesian domestic worker who has been in Singapore for 14 years. “Make sure you make eye contact, don’t look away. The voice is not hostile, not like, 'HEY MA’AM'!”

Tinah, a Filipino domestic worker who has been in Singapore for 23 years, recalls the advice she gave to a friend, who had been employed to work in two houses. This is illegal under Singaporean law, which stipulates that domestic workers are allowed to work only at the address stated on their Work Permits:

"If you‘re unhappy about this [situation], then talk directly to your employer. You can say: ‘Ma'am, this is not really a legal thing to do. I‘m so scared if I‘m going to work there, what if the Ministry of Manpower visits and they see me and they report me, then what will happen to me? I am not only jeopardising my stay here to work, but also you, because how much is the fine?’”

When Tinah relates the script that she suggests the migrant worker should use, she does not simply utter the words: she performs them. Her voice takes on a tone of uncertainty and fear, and she spreads her hands out in a conciliatory gesture. This is in keeping with the expected ‘act’ that should play out between maid and madam — a migrant domestic worker should refrain from being too forward and should be keen to put her employer first.

This is not a confrontational approach; it does not invoke a rights-based discourse — however, it subtly articulates a worker's knowledge of the legislation that has been put into place to protect her, presents her complaints in a socially acceptable way, and seeks to improve the conditions of her work.

Had she spoken to her employer in a way that deviates from the public transcript (such as with a tone of aggression or anger), she might have risked openly transgressing her ‘appropriate’ social location in relation to her employer; by couching it in a performance of subservience, she might be able to win benefits without reprisal.

Nuraini suggests that workers ‘set the stage’ in the theatre of power by ensuring that conditions are ideal for employers to be receptive to workers’ requests. Surroundings should be tidy; employers are best approached after a well-cooked meal and some rest. Respectful addresses like ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’ should be frequently employed.

“Say 'please' and 'thank you', always, ‘yes ma'am'; explain nicely. Don‘t make your body language hostile. Stay professional. Don't back down, keep your hands down, don't gesture too much […] Talk to them when they’re in a good mood, not during their meal. Say, 'ma'am, can I speak to you about my salary, how come you haven't paid me, it's due already... the rule is after seven days, it is the deadline...' […] 'Hi ma'am, can I take an off day, just from 9-6'; if your employer would like to deduct from the salary, then that‘s fine... It‘s a negotiation.”

Leaders from the Filipino Family Network conduct a briefing. The domestic worker run organisation conducts classes and organises social gatherings helping newcomers to Singapore develop networks.

Nuraini suggests that workers adopt a posture of professional politeness (such as maintaining steady eye contact and not appearing overly uncertain), while keeping to expectations of the public transcript — explicitly acknowledging the superiority of the employer, building an overall impression of humility, taking the initiative to circumscribe the boundaries of ‘privileges’ (such as a day off) in order to indicate a willingness to compromise. Like Tinah, she suggests that the worker display her knowledge of protective legislation, such as deadlines for salary payments.

Scott says that a mastery of the “theatre of power” may “become an actual political resource of subordinates […] what may look from above like the extraction of a required performance can easily look from below like the artful manipulation of deference and flattery to achieve its own ends” (Scott 1990: p. 35).

Migrant workers independently undertake a range of strategies to improve their working conditions within the countries in which they work. This may range from protests, creating unions, participating in campaigns – to giving each other pragmatic advice about delicately navigating through tensions at work.

While these ‘transcripts’, taught by experienced workers to fresher faces, may not fundamentally transform the state of migrants’ rights, they are a concrete and practical tool to secure advances in what a worker eats, when a worker sleeps, and where a worker goes — items of negotiation fundamental to day-to-day life.

Migrant workers are not always passive victims of abuse or sacrificial heroes, as they are often presented in the media; they, too, are employees like many others — caught within structural forms of disempowerment, but able to strategise their way through with mutual help and support.

ARI and the Migrating out of Poverty team wish all migrants a happy International Migrants’ Day!

Kellynn Wee is Research and Communications Officer at the Asia Research Institute (ARI) at the National University of Singapore. This blog post is a slightly amended version of the text originally published on ARI's blog at: https://arimoop.wordpress.com/2015/12/19/yes-maam/ on 19 December 2015. It draws on Kellynn's personal research, conducted in 2014 for her undergraduate thesis:‘Work Permitted: Foreign Domestic Workers‘ Collective Strategies of Negotiation in Singapore’. With many thanks to the Indonesian Family Network, the Filipino Family Network and Transient Workers Count Too for their help in facilitating the fieldwork.

References

Scott, J. (1990). Domination and the arts of resistance: hidden transcripts. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Apart of the family? The dilemma of children domestic workers in Bangladesh

By Isabelle Austin

Farah is a 14 year old domestic worker supporting the daily domestic and child care chores of my neighbor’s house in Dhaka. They hired her at the age of 10 from her parents in a rural village; the family agreed because of their very low income and Farah’s alternatives of early marriage. They said that as a domestic worker, Farah chooses not to go to school, and undertakes chores such as cooking, washing clothes, and helping with errands. I am told “Farah’s a part of the family...we treat her like our daughter.” In fact when I first met her I thought just that, despite her different clothes, eating in a separate room and continually cleaning and cooking for the family.

Now I realise the practice of child domestic workers is very normal, and a growing reality of inequality between urban and rural Bangladesh. The most recent baseline study of child domestic workers in Bangladesh by ILO in 2006, found that out of 2 million domestic workers in Bangladesh, 12.7% are children.  According to rights activists, child labour is increasing, and young children from the age of 6 are migrating across the country to work and live as domestic workers to improve their livelihoods.

Conflicting with my assumptions of child labour and family life, this apart of the family notion leaves me with some lasting dilemmas:

1.      Exploitation and the plight of children working

Inter-governmental organisations highlight this as a blatant example of human rights abuse, as children take on work which is both time consuming, physically demanding and increases their vulnerability to sexual, verbal and physical abuse. Often the least paid in society; they can earn up to 400 taka a month (3.50GBP), most of which they give to their parents, yet work 12- 14 hours a day. Although the government has pledged to eliminate child labour by 2015, with the National Child Labour Elimination Policy 2010 to remove children in hazardous jobs, in reality, it is far from being achieved (Islam 2013).

2. Recruitment of children and the role of the ‘host’ family

RMMRU’s research offers important insights to the recruitment of children domestic workers.   Observations demonstrate two main routes of recruitment: through private agencies and intermediaries who directly employ young children, or through personal networks with individuals and families in rural villages. Preference is normally given to the latter as gains are made for the employer, who can pay lower wages and cut out agency costs. On the other hand, Heissler’s (2013) research suggests these contacts are trusted, influential, and may not always seek to take advantage of the children. These contacts are able to provide financial and social support to the child’s family and provide a safe option for the child to leave their village.

3. The position of girls within the wider society of Bangladesh...

... as deeply entrenched hierarchical and patriarchal attitudes prevent their access to public life. Despite Farah saying she does not want an education, and would rather work every day, is this a reflection of the social constructions and expectations of her in society? Moreover, why is it that her only alternative option is to be a burden to her home family and be married off at a young age? Across social constructions of gender, age, social class, and occupation, young female domestic workers can be said to be the least powerful in society.

4.      Children as rational economic actors

Do I accept the food a child serves me, who may not be getting paid at all? If I denied their services then this would undermine their position as a domestic worker. An important element of this is to consider children as rational economic agents, rather than victims, who are motivated to improve their own life as well as their families.

5.      Apart of the family?

The family household in Bangladesh is the most basic, primary institution for social and economic support, yet it can also be the most unequal. Despite the government’s efforts to eradicate child labour, child domestic workers will continue to be a part of family life here.

Actions to support child domestic workers should build upon principles of their rights to work, to better understand the causes and impact of migration, as well as the extent to which they took the decisions about their migration. Moreover we need more research into how remittances have improved the socio-economic opportunities of the children’s own households.

References:

Heissler, K. A. 2013. Rethinking ‘trafficking’ in children’s migratory processes: the role of social networks in child labour migration in Bangladesh. Children’s Geographies, 11(1), pp, 89-101.

Islam, U. 2013. Child Domestic Workers increasing in Bangladesh. Available from: http://www.dhakatribune.com/labour/2013/jun/12/child-domestic-workers-increasing-bangladesh[AH2] 

Isabelle Austin was based at the Refugee and Migratory Movements Research Unit (RMMRU) in Bangladesh as the Migrating out of Poverty sponsored intern June-August 2015.

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Indonesian migrant women: Present 'here' and 'there' via ICTs

By Lucia Zerna


Photograph reproduced by kind permission of Xyza Cruz Bacani 

In the image above, the boy on the right has his faced pressed against the glass. While we see his face clearly, the face of the photographer is hidden by the camera. Who is she?

Xyza Cruz Bacani is a Filipina domestic worker in Hong Kong whose passion for photography inspired her to buy a digital single reflex (DSLR) camera and photograph everyday life in the city. Since posting her black and white images online on Facebook, Bacani has gained international recognition. She currently has more than 7,000 likes on her page. Furthermore, she has recently secured a 2015 fellowship on the Magnum Foundation’s prestigious Human Rights programme, under which she will receive a scholarship that will strengthen her skills in visually documenting human rights. Bacani’s success exemplifies the ways in which migrant domestic workers utilize technology in order to pursue aspirations and connect with the outside world. While the majority of foreign domestic workers (FDWs) in Southeast Asia do not achieve such visibility, many are just as active in using various types of Information and Communications Technologies (ICTs), such as cellphones.

From the results of the recently completed Migrating out of Poverty study on the ICT use of domestic workers in Singapore, it is apparent that use of such technologies form an integral aspect of the workers’ everyday lives. Handheld computing devices, particularly smartphones, are used by FDWs to establish a presence of both ‘here’ and ‘there’ through phone calls and short message services (SMS) to family members back home. The research found that eighty per cent of respondents in the study relied on SMS and regular phone calls to make contact with their family and friends in Indonesia.

Despite having to care for another woman’s children, FDWs also act as transnational mothers, keeping up with their own children’s wellbeing and education via ICTs. Furthermore, having a sustained line of communication is vital for preserving their mental health in environments that can be exploitive and isolating. As Rosita notes, “if I miss them I can SMS [or] Facebook. I feel happy and in high spirits.”

Additionally, the study shows that through ICTs Indonesian migrant women are able to access information on the global web. For example, Hera, a domestic worker living in Singapore, says: “[I] know more about life here… [About] Indonesian maids or the problems they have. They always upload stuff on Facebook.”

The use of ICTs is one lens through which we can see how power relations are shaped and renegotiated between the employer and domestic worker. As the study found, while ICTs help facilitate vital modes of communication for domestic workers, such devices are not readily accessible to all. Directly related to access are issues of trust, usage restrictions, and surveillance. Many domestic workers only receive a handheld device from their employer after a few years of service. Even then, FDWs are very aware of when and where they use their phones.

Yani, a 42 year-old divorcee, explains: “I know the limitation[s], I know when is the working hours and when is the time to rest. When I am eating or resting, I will call.”

Employers also monitor and curtail FDWs’ access to communication devices. Within the household they hold the password to the Wi-Fi network and may not share it with their FDW. Additionally, FDWs who do not have a phone are dependent on their employer’s devices to contact family back home. In such instances the FDW might limit herself to calling family on specific days and talking for a certain length of time.

It is clear from the research that access to and use of ICTs influence the daily routines of FDWs in Singapore in multifaceted ways. ICTs facilitate new transnational spaces where FDWs can maintain relationships with family back home. Smartphones and similar devices have become vital resources that sustain personal relationships and, in the case of Xyza Cruz Bacani, have been used as platforms for creativity and public recognition. ICTs have provided a site for her and other domestic workers to shape new trajectories and go beyond a singularizing identity of FDW. 

Lucia Zerner is currently an undergraduate spending her spring semester studying abroad in Singapore. She is particularly interested in topics related to labour migration and has most recently conducted an independent study on returned Tamil migrant workers to Madurai, India. 

Dirty jobs but a brighter future? Migrant domestic workers and the discourse on slavery and forced labour

by Priya Deshingkar

Domestic workers  are often described as “modern-day slaves” because of their working conditions which bear many of the hallmarks of forced labour and also because of their intersecting disadvantages of race, gender and poverty.   But listening to the stories of migrants working as domestic workers reveals that the choices they have made, to work as domestic workers are precisely to escape degrading situations and contexts. The realities of the lives of many poor rural women are more dirty, dangerous and demeaning than domestic work, which offers women the chance to earn and be independent. 

After two years of planning with her husband how the household would be managed without her, 34-year-old Arini (name changed) has finally managed make the trip from her remote village in West Java all the way to Singapore to work as a domestic worker or maid.  There are many like her from Indonesia working as domestic workers in other countries including Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Taiwan and Malaysia.  The numbers are vast, nearly five million by one estimate, and they seem to be growing.  Like many others, Arini migrated through an agent who found her a job and paid the costs of her migration up front, costs that she must repay by working without any salary for the first eight months of her assignment. 

Across the globe in Ethiopia, the story is somewhat different for Abeba (name changed) who ran away from her village in the drought-prone Amhara region at the age of 15. First she went to the nearest town, worked there as a cleaner until she had saved enough to try her luck in Addis Ababa. Her plan was to save money to migrate to Djibouti or the Middle East where thousands of women and girls have migrated to work as maids. Abeba first got a job in Addis Ababa working for a distant relative but left after they refused to pay her. She found another job through an agent, in a house where she was groped and harassed until she left. In the city she had to live by her wits, continually searching for a place to live and a job that was safe and fair, where she could work and save. The work was hard and payment was poor; sometimes she did not even get paid. She eventually saved enough to pay an agent to migrate to Djibouti.

Both Arini and Abeba are working as domestic workers. ILO research shows that the 53 million domestic workers worldwide are predominantly female and from poor and socially excluded communities.   The working conditions are tough – limits on personal freedom, long working hours and being unable to leave because of debt-bondage. The ILO identifies domestic work as one of the sectors that is most likely to involve forced labour and slavery.  The public discourse on slavery and domestic work imagine domestic workers with almost no agency; their minds are controlled and their bodies are enslaved and the conclusion seems to be that they must be rescued from this awful fate.

But a look at the process from the perspective of migrant girls and women tells another story altogether. Arini wanted to migrate so that her family could enjoy the material comforts that her migrant neighbours have. She wanted her daughter to attend the best school and to make sure that her family did not want for anything. This was a choice she and her husband made together to raise their standard of living. Like many others, she comes from a subsistence farming household where incomes are not enough to provide for the family all year round and where material and educational aspirations have been fuelled and enabled by a history of migration. They hope that migration will enable them to escape the endless hard work and poverty associated with subsistence agriculture.

Abeba’s decision to leave the village, a place and a cultural context that she perceived as dead-end and degrading, was clearly a voluntary act; an example of agency in the face of limited choices.  She ran away from home because her family wanted her to marry at 15. Having been forced to leave school at 12 to work on the family’s failing farm, and with a marriage to a local man arranged for her, she could see how her future would be, and she didn’t like what she saw. To her, life in the city meant freedom, offering her choices of how she lived, dressed, ate and where she worked, despite its many risks. Living in this way was preferable to having her destiny sealed by her parents.

The risks are clearly numerous for such migrants, but for many poor people, migration offers the opportunity to earn more that they would at home and the ability to invest in businesses, land, material security and education. For many women migration also offers them a rare opportunity to earn money of their own, achieve independence and take control over their lives. This is often overlooked in the international debate on migrant domestic workers. The importance of jobs such as domestic work to the social mobility, development and freedom of poor women is hidden under the preoccupation with ideal (and important) employment conditions.

Migration and employment in sectors such as domestic work are sometimes labelled as slavery and forced labour. However, they remain among the most important pathways of social mobility for many poor women and can be considerably less degrading than other alternatives.

Priya Deshingkar is the Research Director of the Migrating out of Poverty Research Programme Consortium.