Portfolio at NYU

Posted 03.31.03
Nanny Nightmares

By Aleksandra Todorova

There are more than 600,000 domestic workers in New York City; most of them are immigrant women of color. They speak English with heavy accents and they teach the ABCs. They cook, wash the dishes and teach table manners. They walk the dog and watch the children take their first steps. They sweep floors, clean windows, do laundry and teach "please" and "thank you." Few of them have health insurance or days off or receive overtime and severance pay. Few of them sign contracts, and when they do, few of them get to keep a copy. Few of them leave the house and when they do, some are not even allowed to talk to people.

"I was not allowed to go out of the house. I was treated like a slave," says Carmen, an Indian woman who earned $80 a week cleaning house for a Manhattan family. "I was not allowed to make friends; I could not even talk to anybody." Fearful that her employers would call the police if she tried to escape, Carmen suffered in isolation before eventually seeking aid from Domestic Workers United, an umbrella organization of advocacy groups founded in 2000 by Filipina and Asian workers.

In March, City Councilwoman Gale Brewer aligned herself with the organization and proposed a domestic workers bill that would legislate a standard contract for housekeepers and nannies. The bill has been thus far signed by 24 of the council's 51 members. The first of at least two hearings in the Civil Service and Labor Committee was to be held May 6.

Under the bill introduced March 25, employers would have to sign a contract whenever they hire a worker through employment agencies, which place more than 50 percent of domestics in the city. The contract would guarantee the minimum wage, overtime payment and benefits such as health insurance and paid vacation. The legislation would not only regulate a largely neglected industry, says Brewer, but would also assure that "employers receive good service."

Maurice Wingate, president of Best Domestic Services, an employment agency that places about 25 domestic workers a month, says the domestic workers bill should boost business. "People will start to turn to agencies [with more frequency] because agencies make sure that employees are documented and qualified. So then employers will be getting the best deal," he says.
Middle-income employers worry, however, that Social Security and health expenditures for their employees would leave them with little for themselves. Said one Manhattan working mom on condition of anonymity, "There is only a certain amount of money I can afford in order not to go bankrupt!" She says she would consider reducing the number of hours she employed a baby-sitter if the legislation passes.

When asked if she would consider paying her nanny $2 an hour, which is the going rate for many immigrant non-English speakers, she balked. "That's a creature I've never met," she said.

According to sources, some mothers pay peanuts to illiterate and therefore incompetent child-care workers. Ninaj Raoul, a spokesperson for Haitian Women for Haitian Refugees, says penny-pitchers "look for women who are new to the country, know little English and labor law to stand up for their rights."

"We've had people ask for someone who can't read, which I find strange, because how will they be any good at taking care of their children?" Raoul says.

At the other end of the spectrum, say housekeepers, are those employees who pay decently but expect their live-ins to be "Superwoman"-only without a magic cloak and the ability to fly.

"My employer was compulsively organized and I tried to meet her standards," says Linda Abad, a former Philippine government worker who came to the United States to save enough money to send her three children to prominent Philippines universities. She claims she worked hard for her Park Avenue employer, who supplied a $50 monthly food stipend and studio apartment, but the woman, who tended to "scream," always found reasons to be "unhappy," as when Abad ate a bagel from her employer's bread box and when the washing machine broke.

Now fired, Abad says she is relieved. "After all this humiliation and verbal abuse, I welcome being unemployed because I don't have to put up with all of it."

This article appeared in The New York Resident, April 6, 2002.