Labor - Blog Posts
Let's fuckin gooooooo
MAJOR UPDATE ON THE WGA STRIKE
can we talk about the ups strike can we PLEASE talk about the ups strike
Furniture Shopping (Birth Fiction)
She was merely one week away from her due date, as she waddled towards the doors of hell. At least that’s what it felt like as she anticipated hours upon hours of shopping. Her back was already aching, and she hadn’t even entered the department store yet.
Lara and her husband Ivan were expecting their first child. They were in the process of moving into their dream house. Unfortunately the moving car they’d hired had crashed earlier that week. No one was injured in the accident and their insurance covered the cost for their destroyed possessions, but here they were, one week before her due date, without a single thing for the baby. Or for themselves, for that matter - even their bed had been in that truck.
”Are you sure you don’t want to wait in the car?” asked Ivan, giving her a worried look. He had offered multiple times to just go himself, but she couldn’t just leave him to make all the decisions about their future furniture. The only furniture he’d owned before they got married was a wooden table and a ratty old pullout couch - to her great despair that couch was the only thing to survive the move - so she didn’t have much confidence in his furniture-picking abilities.
”I’ll be fine”, she said with more confidence than she actually felt, before striding determinately towards the doors of the department store. They had already spent over an hour in the car getting here, and her back was cramping painfully from the journey. Best thing to do was just to get it over with.
She started with a bathroom break, frowning when there was a bit more fluid than expected. It wasn’t gushing, though, so she convinced herself that it was nothing to worry about. With how much the baby had dropped, maybe it was pressing harder on her bladder than she’d thought. She dried herself, pulled up her leggings and adjusted her maternity top. She would totally be fine for a few hours of furniture shopping.
Lara and Ivan spent the better part of two hours walking past rows and rows of furniture. Lara kept one hand pressed to the small of her back as she waddled next to her husband. The back pain was getting really bad, hitting her in waves, each one worse than the last. The baby felt heavy in her pelvis, the head practically resting on her cervix. All that pressure was messing with her body - she felt like she really needed to take a dump.
”Bathroom break”, she murmured to Ivan, before waddling off towards the closest sign.
As she sat down on the toilet, she felt a lot of fluids leave her body, but not really anything else. The pressure had eased up, though, so she figured maybe she’d just really needed to pee. She washed her hands, staring at her sweaty disheveled appearance in the mirror. After a moment of leaning against the sink, she took a deep breath and headed for the door.
Ivan was watching her intently as she left the bathroom. ”Are you okay?” he asked, a worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.
”I’m fine. Just a backache.”
He didn’t seem to believe her and kept throwing her worried glances as they walked on.
That feeling of pressure that had dissipated in the bathroom, was returning with a vengeance. She pressed a hand against the underside of her belly, trying to lift the weight of her baby from her poor hips. She couldn’t really feel that taletell hardness of the baby’s head through her skin, even at the bottom of her belly, making her wonder if it was actually resting completely in the bowl of her pelvis. As she was contemplating this, another wave of back pain swept through her, making her belly cramp uncomfortably.
This latest cramp made the pressure drastically intensify and she was hit with a nagging suspicion that maybe this was labor. She tried to ignore it as the baby’s head slowly pushed through her dilated cervix, the pain and pressure shifting downwards with it. She had to be imagining this. Her due date wasn’t for another week.
Unconsciously she widened her stance as her contracting muscles squeezed the baby downwards. She struggled to keep her composure as the pressure grew, and with it came this terrible urge. The need to push was growing every second she continued to try to deny her labor. This couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now. Yet her body desperately wanted to push this baby out. Right this second.
”Lara? What’s wrong?”
Her husband’s voice sounded so far away as she focused on the sensations of her body, the tensing of muscles, the pressure, the stretching. The baby was inching downwards through her birth canal with every clenching of muscles. She spread her legs without really meaning to, her body locking up in her first real push. The baby pressed downwards faster with her help, the head stretching her birth canal wide.
The hand pressed to the bottom of her belly sneaked downwards, encountering her bulging crotch. She wasn’t quite crowning yet, but the baby’s head pressing down was changing the shape of her vagina, making it bulge outwards. With another contraction, another push, a burning feeling was joining the pain and pressure already between her legs. She moaned softly as her lips started to take the shape of a teardrop, the top of her baby’s head pressing out into her panties.
She moved her other hand down between her legs, exploring the growing bulge in her leggings. She could distantly hear voices around her, yelling, a far away mixture of sounds and movements. They weren’t important. Someone’s hand closed around her arm, pulling. She could vaguely distinguish her husband’s voice from the sea of background noise. She snarled at him, making him back away. She didn’t want anyone close right now. It was just her, and her body, and her baby.
She spread her legs more, squatting down a bit as she pushed again. Her legs quivered as she felt her lips slowly stretching around the top of the baby’s head. By the feeling of how much her crotch was bulging, she knew she still had ways to go. It was a very big baby.
She groaned as the burning feeling turned into a violent throbbing, the baby’s skull slowly inching downwards as her lips strained. Her clothes were pulled tight over the bulge, barely clinging to her hips. She rubbed softly over the stretched fabric, accidentally brushing against her clit. A surge of pleasure shot through her, making her throw her head back and moan. She started rubbing the little nub slowly, some of the pain transforming into pleasure. Intense, painful pleasure - but pleasure all the same.
The next contraction caught her off guard, making her sway slightly from the force of cramping muscles. She took a deep breath and bore down, feeling her nether lips thin and stretch as the baby slowly started to properly crown. With an agonizing slowness the head inched forwards, filling her hands and straining her clothes to the limit. It stopped at a full crown, her body thrumming with pain and pleasure and a desperate need to get this baby out.
She continued to ignore her surroundings as she circled her hips, trying not to push as she gave her body time to stretch. Her hand went back to her clitoris, rubbing through the soft fabric of her leggings. The poor leggings were stretched as far as they wood go. She pushed hard with the next contraction. No matter how much she tensed and strained, the head stayed at a full crown, her burning lips and staring clothes keeping it in place.
She sunk lower into her squat, shoving her hips forwards with the next push. The head stayed lodged were it was, but her vagina was throbbing with pain and pleasure around it. She whined and rocked her hips from side to side in an attempt to get it unstuck. The bulge in her leggings was truly massive, witnessing about the size of her baby. She must truly be a sight to behold.
Strange hands were touching her, trying to pull down her leggings. She didn’t like it, but she allowed it, realizing that her bottoms needed to come off for her to be able to deliver. With the way her legs were spread they didn’t have much luck getting them off, but they did manage to loosen the garment slightly.
As the next contraction hit, she battered them away again and bore down with a guttural yell. The head shifted slightly against her bruised lips, but still couldn’t seem to move passed them. She pressed down against her clitoris, the violent jolt of pleasure causing her to tense in another push. Her thighs shook as she worked against her own body, trying to push a too big baby through a too small opening. She pinched her nub again, pushing with the clenching pressure that followed. Despite the pain, she was suddenly very close to orgasming.
She circled her hips again, the weight of the baby resting against different parts of her vagina as she moved. Her fingers worked furiously at her clitoris, the pulses of pleasure almost making her knees give out as she pushed with each one.
And then, finally, as she shoved her hips forwards and pushed with all her might, the head shot forwards and the found herself orgasming violently as it popped out.
The rest of the world rushed back into focus, sounds and voices and her husbands arms. She collapsed into them, no longer able to keep upright. The baby’s head dangled uncomfortably between her legs, but she no longer wanted to keep control of the birth. She wanted someone to take her pants off and get the baby out.
”Get it out!” she sobbed into her husbands neck, shifting uncomfortably as she felt the baby start to turn.
Ivan murmured encouragements in her ear as she felt something cold touch her leg. A backwards glance revealed a paramedic behind her, in the process of cutting her leggings off. She leaned against her husband as she felt them check for a chord around the baby’s neck and telling her to push. She tried, moaning as the shoulders wouldn’t budge.
”You’re almost done”, her husband murmured in her ear. ”Baby, you’re so close.”
She nodded into his neck, gathered all remaining energy, and pushed as hard as she could. One shoulder eased out, then another. A strange sliding sensation and a rush of emptiness, as the paramedic pulled the baby from her body. A rush of fluids followed it, drenching her utterly ruined pants. Her body shook, Ivan the only thing still keeping her upright. Around her people gawked and pointed their cellphone cameras her way as the baby gave a loud wail.
”It’s a girl! Lara, we have a daughter!”
Her husband was crying and laughing at the same time, while Lara stared numbly at the crowd gathered around them.
”Lara, look! She’s beautiful!”
She turned her eyes to the wrinkly, slimy, purple little human that had just come out of her. The rest of the world faded away again, as she reached out for that hideous little creature - the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her daughter.
I think wed all benefit if everyone on this website learned that sex work isn’t just part of a feminist issue, it’s part of a modern cultural erasure of sex and pleasure and a class antagonism that has been fostered since the advent of capitalism, and more importantly: I like my fucking job
-When Stella gave birth and Brandon got late-
*Brandon comes freaking out*
Stella*from the labor room*: Brandon!
Brandon*searching for her*: Stella!
Stella*screaming in pain*: BRANDON!
Brandon*more screamin*: Stella!
Riven: VILMA!
Brandon: I will kill you, dude.
* Timmy and Bloom come out of the labor room*
*Brandon runs to them*
Brandon: Where is she!!
Timmy: That way!
*there's a bed in the middle*
Brandon*falls*: Stella!
Hello could you do something where negan's girlfriend is in labour and his by her side supporting her and being so loving and when the baby comes (which is a girl) he crys and it's the first time his gf sees him cry and he promises his daughter that he will be a better man and an amazing dad to her
"His Girls" n. smith Oneshot
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Summary (Fluff): While Negan's girlfriend goes through labor, he comforts her and does his best to make her feel loved. When the baby comes, he cries and promises to do his best and be an amazing dad to her.
Warnings: Vulgar language, pregnancy, labor, pet names (Sweetheart, honey, baby), "daddy" is used as a joke
A/N: Hey! I'm trying to find a new set up to organize my works, so tell me what you guys think about this way. I hope this work is what you were asking for!!
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“Fucking feed me!” Negan’s girlfriend screamed, tightly holding onto the man’s hand as he winced in pain.
She’d been in labor for eight hours, and was only dilated by seven centimeters. Even though Dr. Carson specialized in pregnancies, he didn’t have what he needed at the sanctuary, so he couldn’t help her speed up the process. It was up to her body to go through with her labor, and it was going slowly.
Negan sat next to her on their bed while Carson was filling up a syringe of a painkiller. He felt like his hand was going to break with how tight Y/N was holding it, but he knew he couldn’t complain. A watermelon sized baby was coming out of her vagina, for fuck’s sake.
“I know, honey. But you can’t, not yet.” He told her and reached their conjoined hands up, kissing the back of hers. He pursed his lips together after and watched as Carson took her arm and injected the painkiller into her.
“It won’t stop all the pain, but it’ll help a bit.” Dr. Carson reassured her and threw out the needle.
Negan grimaced and closed his eyes, listening to his girlfriend yell and scream. He hated how much this hurt her, and hated how he knew she felt throughout the entire pregnancy.
When they first found out, they were overjoyed. It was an amazing feeling, knowing that they would bring a life that they would share into their family.
It was only until after a few months where the pregnancy was taking an obvious toll on Y/N.
She never felt clean enough, and never felt good enough. When Carson ordered her on bed rest, she was absolutely pissed.
–
“Sweetheart, you need to rest. Go lay down.” Negan had sighed and ran a hand through his hair, watching her tie her shoes.
“No, I’m going on this run. I’m sick of being cooped up in here, it’s miserable and I feel useless.”
–
They’d get into arguments all the time about how she needed to lay down and take things slow, even though she never listened. They’d always end with her in tears and them laying down together while he comforted her.
“Negan, I don’t want to do this anymore. Make it stop, please.” Y/N cried out and gripped the bed sheets tightly. He kissed her forehead and then her lips.
“I know, baby, I know. Just a little longer, you can do it.” He encouraged her and nodded. She nodded back before throwing her head back in pain and shouting out curses at the top of her lungs.
“I see the head!”
–
Y/N cooed at her new born daughter, rubbing her finger against her cheek. She was so beautiful, with a head full of brown hair and her big brown eyes that stared curiously back into Y/N’s.
“You’re gorgeous.” Y/N whispered and smiled.
“D’You mind if Negan comes back in?” Dr. Carson asked her while packing up his medical supplies, having kicked out Negan when the baby was on its way so that he wasn’t in the way.
Y/N shook her head at Carson and he stood up, opening the door and calling for the man. Negan immediately came in and smiled at the sight of both of his girls.
“Hey.” He whispered, walking over to them. Carson left the room and closed the door, leaving the new family to themselves.
“Come here.” Y/N gestured him over and held her daughter out for Negan to hold.
He took her in his arms and grinned, cooing at her as Y/N did before. His daughter reached her small arm out of her blanket and grabbed at his nose and he laughed, carefully using his other hand to hold hers. He kissed it and she gripped his finger with her tiny ones.
“She looks just like her father.” Y/N said from her place on the bed as she witnessed the adorable exchange and took a drink of water from the cup that Carson placed on the bed stand.
Negan chuckled and stared into his daughter's eyes as she did his. “Now I’ve got two girls callin’ me daddy.”
“Fucking Christ, Negan.” His girlfriend snorted and ran her hands down her face.
They sat in silence for a few moments as Negan thought of all things he was going to do with his daughter.
He’d teach her how to cook, ride a bike, dress her up, take her on walks around the sanctuary. Maybe teach her how to play baseball, if Y/N allows him too.
Knowing he now had his own mini-him in his arms made him want to cry, and it wasn’t until Y/N asked him if he was okay that he noticed he was. The warm feeling went down his face and fell down his neck, and he sniffled.
“I’m going to be the best man…that you will ever know. I’m gonna take care of you, and I’m gonna make sure you get everything I never had.” He leaned in and pecked her tiny forehead, her hand still holding his finger.
“Yes, you will.” Y/N stared lovingly at Negan and their daughter, her own tears falling down her face.
It was then that she knew she had picked the right man, and that she was in the right place. Everything was perfect in that moment, and they were going to be the perfect family.
“I’m gonna name you Negan Junior.”
“Absolutely not.”
Strong progressive parties with engaged labor unions are the best defense against fascism.
Corporate tyranny is the enemy. Billionaire overlords want you destitute.
So, studying history and having role models while pursuing a just society is actually really important?
Looking more like a checklist these days. I want off this ride. 😭
The Birth of Unions through the Black Gaze
NO. 1
During the 1940s, the past three decades beforehand for Black Americans have been life-changing: The Harlem Renaissance in the 20s, the Great Depression in the 30s, and then the inauguration of President FDR, who would eventually lead America into WWII, at the beginning of the 40s. Then came the Great Depression, and with it, economic downfall and loss. It devasted the economy, and millions in the country could not find jobs, nor could they keep it. Black Americans suffered harsher during this time since they couldn’t make ends meet; even those who still had jobs, labored in unskilled and service fields, regardless of their actual skills. And whether from the South or the North, these economic pressures made a significant decline in incomes to a third of what they had been in before the Depression.
NO. 2
‘’Wages had fallen to roughly 60 percent of their pre-Depression level. Declining demand followed the decline in earnings, speeding the downward spiral. The economic crisis affected everyone, black and white, rural and urban, skilled and unskilled. The federal government in 1930 estimated that 17 percent of the white population and 38 percent of the black population could not support themselves without assistance. White men took jobs held by black men, and white women took jobs held by black women, while privileged black folk who were financially stable toward their businesses and homes, lost them.’’ To Ask for an Equal Chance, Greenburg, pg.1-3
NO. 3
The ideas of President F.D.R helped, called New Deal programs increased the number of public jobs. Because these new agencies had nondiscrimination provisions, black workers at all levels of skill had a better chance to obtain these jobs than those in private sectors where racial discrimination remained. And even though black workers still worked in the same menial jobs they found in private employment, many government programs—particularly in northern and western cities—also hired black skilled, clerical, and professional workers, like black social workers, nurses, teachers, office managers, architects, engineers, and administrations, which they all benefited, and had a tremendous impact on black employment. And for the first time, 1932 Section 7A of the National Industrial Recovery Act (NIRA) guaranteed workers the right to organize unions, but when the Supreme Court declared it was ‘unconstitutional’, Congress passed the Wagner National Labor Relations Act, which extended 7A’s scope.
NO. 4
Industrial union organizers sought to engage all possible workers in the struggle for union recognition; when racist whites excluded black workers, organizers pointed out that employers hired the latter as strike bearers (scabs). Only by offering union membership to all, regardless of race, could unskilled and industrial unions succeed. Therefore, unions or their leaderships sought to actively recruit African American workers alongside whites. Among these workers? Socialists and Communists. Drawn to this movement, believing that the working class was the victim of an exploitative capitalist system, which the Depression made their arguments even more convincing. Only unity among all workers could overthrow the tyranny of their bosses, the parties insisted, and bring about economic change. They considered racism a tool the wealthy used to divide the workers and dilute their power, which drew in black Americans, welcoming them in through politics and the realities of organizing unskilled workers.
NO. 5
Some unions had already begun organizing around the principles that interracial unions advanced the interests of all workers, something the elite, racists like the Southern Klans and the police were fearful of. Black and white built the United Mineworkers Union, which from its inception in 1890. Since James Ford, a black Communist leader argued that union benefited and helped desperately, and unemployed black Americans, while including them improved the chance for successful organizing, and to better achieve their goals. Ford writes, ‘‘the organization of the people’s immediate needs, better wages, unemployment, and social insurance, better wages, civil and economic, and equal rights, the Communist Party worked on a Popular Front strategy of working with liberal groups when doing so advance its common goals. Therefore, Communists embraced all progressive union activists as coalition partners.’’
NO. 6
Unfortunately, the elite, wealthy, and racists in any work, but especially the police, disliked integration. Police beat, arrested, and even on occasion shot protesters and organizers, often assisted by other angry whites. The Georgia Klan, unhappy at the advancement of black textile workers as a result of a union drive, responded with a violent anti-CIO campaign in 1939, convinced that the communist agitators they were convinced, interpreting the Communists interracial union organizing as a Soviet plot to destroy the United States by undermining traditional race relations and stirring up otherwise ‘contented black Americans to demand equality they did not deserve and even worse—sought to bring down the white race by granting black men readily access to white women. Such rhetoric was used to preserve the economic advantages for white-middle and upper, and middle-class brought anti-union violence to disastrous new heights and bringing an end to what would have been the beginning of economic equity to all.
Just over 3¢ a bundle! That's very little. I had thought it was saying $1.86 per 60-radish bundle at first glance, which feels far more reasonable.
This is not “low-skilled” labor. My back hurts just watching that. Pay them a living wage, give them health care and dignity in the type of conditions they work.
Hi- er, this is my first-ever writer's strike, how does one not cross a picket line in this context? I know how not to do it with things like Amazon and IRL strikes, but how does it apply to media/streaming?
Hi, this is a great question, because it allows me to write about the difference between honoring a picket line and a boycott. (This is reminding me of the labor history podcast project that's lain fallow in my drafts folder for some time now...) In its simplest formulation, the difference between a picket line and a boycott is that a picket line targets an employer at the point of production (which involves us as workers), whereas a boycott targets an employer at the point of consumption (which involves us as consumers).
So in the case of the WGA strike, this means that at any company that is being struck by the WGA - I've seen Netflix, Amazon, Apple, Disney, Warner Brothers Discovery, NBC, Paramount, and Sony mentioned, but there may be more (check the WGA website and social media for a comprehensive list) - you do not cross a picket line, whether physical or virtual. This means you do not take a meeting with them, even if its a pre-existing project, you do not take phone calls or texts or emails or Slacks from their executives, you do not pitch them on a spec script you've written, and most of all you do not answer any job application.
Because if this strike is like any strike since the dawn of time, you will see the employers put out ads for short-term contracts that will be very lucrative, generally above union scale - because what they're paying for in addition to your labor is you breaking the picket and damaging the strike - to anyone willing to scab against their fellow workers. GIven that one of the main issues of the WGA are the proliferation of short-term "mini rooms" whereby employers are hiring teams of writers to work overtime for a very short period, to the point where they can only really do the basics (a series outline, some "broken stories," and some scripts) and then have the showrunner redo everything on their lonesome, while not paying writers long-term pay and benefits, I would imagine we're going to see a lot of scab contracts being offered for these mini rooms.
But for most of us, unless we're actively working as writers in Hollywood, most that isn't going to be particularly relevant to our day-to-day working lives. If you're not a professional or aspiring Hollywood writer, the important thing to remember honoring the picket line doesn't mean the same thing as a boycott. WGA West hasn't called on anyone to stop going to the movies or watching tv/steeaming or to cancel their streaming subscriptions or anything like that. If and when that happens, WGA will go to some lengths to publicize that ask - and you should absolutely honor it if you can - so there will be little in the way of ambiguity as to what's going on.
That being said, one of the things that has happened in the past in other strikes is that well-intentioned people get it into their heads to essentially declare wildcat (i.e, unofficial and unsanctioned) boycotts. This kind of stuff comes from a good place, someone wanting to do more to support the case and wanting to avoid morally contaminating themselves by associating with a struck company, but it can have negative effects on the workers and their unions. Wildcat boycotts can harm workers by reducing back-end pay and benefits they get from shows if that stuff is tied to the show's performance, and wildcat boycotts can hurt unions by damaging negotiations with employers that may or may not be going on.
The important thing to remember with all of this is that the strike is about them, not us. Part of being a good ally is remembering to let the workers' voices be heard first and prioritizing being a good listener and following their lead, rather than prioritizing our feelings.