What can the anarchist labor movement teach us about solidarity in the fight against sexual violence? [published simultaneously at Feminist Mormon Housewives]
In part 1 of this piece, I introduced the Wobblies’ iconic approach to ‘solidarity unionism’, and ways that we can take the lessons of class struggle literally in the joint fight against sexual violence. In part 2, I look at two examples of the role of feminism in anti-capitalist and anti-authoritarian struggle.
Rape survivors organizing against capitalism
Most of what I would like to say here is said better, and from experience, by Liberté Locke, a barista and organizer of the Starbucks Workers Union (IWW), in her piece “My Body, My Rules”. I’ll make extensive references to her account in this post, but it’s worth just reading it in its entirety first.
In my previous piece (Part 1), I argued that abusers often learn how to abuse by brutalizing women, and then afterwards branch out to brutalizing men. This is obviously overly schematic, but it’s one more reason why men might want to face down misogyny from the beginning instead of letting it take root – because it comes back to bite us eventually, too. It also helps us to understand oppression in its more generalized forms (i.e. modern capitalism), so we should pay special attention to the sexist or racist origins of some kinds of violence if we want to be able to achieve liberation for everyone. And that’s not a bad basis for ‘solidarity’ between genders in the fight against sexual violence even when we recognize that men and women have dramatically different experiences and risks.
I’ll begin with the ways feminism can help us develop a general theory of oppression.
Liberté Locke starts her essay this way:
I was raped by a boyfriend on August 18th, 2006. The very next day I held back tears while I lied to a stranger over the phone about why I was unavailable to go in that day for a second interview for a job that I desperately needed. When I hung up the phone I saw a new text message. It was from him. “It’s not over. It will never be over between us…”
The next day I went in for the second interview. It was inside of the Sears Tower Starbucks in Chicago. I took the train to the interview constantly looking around me and shaking. I needed work. I had just been fired from Target two weeks prior and had no prospects. I knew I would have to go through a metal detector in order to enter the building so despite every instinct in my body I did not bring a knife with me.
She got that job, and Liberté eventually became one of the most active and notorious organizers of the IWW Starbucks Workers Union in New York City. Where mainstream ‘business unions’ have decided that the high turnover and low-paying service sector is too difficult or unrewarding to unionize, the IWW is trying to fill the gap and support organizing among the ‘unskilled’ and low-wage workers that make up the majority of America’s postindustrial workforce (this is essentially the same thing that happened a hundred years ago, which was why the IWW was originally founded. With the IWW, Liberté fought for wage increases, health care, the right to organize, and an end to sexual harassment. But once a year, on the date of her hiring, she has
annual reviews where I generally get to argue with someone younger than me who makes significantly more than do about why my hard work, aching back, cracking hands, sore wrists, the bags under my eyes, the burns, the bruises on my arms, the cuts on my knees, the constant degrading treatment by the customers, the “baby, honey, sugar, bitch”, the “hey, you, slut…I said NO whip cream!”s, the staring, the following after work…I get to argue why all that means I’m worth a 33cent raise rather than 22cents.
Liberté says this annual review is the one reason why she still remembers the anniversary of her rape. Continue reading


