From Pain to Resilience, These Voices Show What Needs to Change for Women Workers in The Coming Year
There is a scene in the ‘Garment Kelsa’ documentary, where two migrant workers – Rosina and Gayatri – keep bickering about whether they should leave their tiny 1 RK in a Bangalore neighbourhood. Rosina is scared and wants to leave as someone has slashed through Gayatri’s clothes that were left to dry on the communal clothesline. But Gayatri insists that they stay back even as she holds up her ripped jeans and kurtis. Why? ‘’The (neighbourhood) aunties have said they will take care of us and nothing will happen to us,’’ says this young worker from Odisha, who loves to watch ‘Tom and Jerry’ clips to forget her stressful factory life.
At the end of the film, which was produced by Cividep India and premiered in 2024, the duo stays put but they are scared enough to remain with their washed clothes till they dry. Fear is a palpable undercurrent in many of the voices we heard this year — during film shoots, project visits, factory shutdowns, and fieldwork. Why does fear dominate workplace conversations? Cividep works with thousands of low-wage workers, mostly women, in the garments, leather, electronics, and plantation sectors that supply global brands. These women, often the primary earners in their families, live with the urgent need to make ends meet. Many (80% of garment workers, according to a recent Cividep study) don’t even have formal work contracts. They put up with everything, including physical pain, as they are scared of losing their livelihood.
“Many workers complain of severe pains during periods but are denied rest or even a short break,” says Veena, a leather factory worker from Tamil Nadu. Workers dare not ask for leave for fear of being reprimanded — or worse, sent on unpaid leave. “Our life depends on the work, and I can’t lose this wage,” she adds.
There is also what workers call ‘production torture’. Manjula, a garment worker, enters the factory gates each day with worry, sometimes wondering how long she can endure the strain. “There is production torture as well as quality torture. I work for eight hours daily, and during that time, I get scolded at least twice,” she says in an interview for Workers’ Observatory.
The mental toll of shopfloor abuse is now widely acknowledged. Factories that race to meet unrealistic production targets heap immense stress on workers. “Managers force us to work overtime when there are heavy orders. If we express our inability, they tell us not to come to work the next day. Even when I request half a day’s leave due to sickness, they yell at me,” recalls Manjula.
Yashodha, General Secretary of Munnade Social Organisation (a Cividep grassroots partner), explains how anxiety is fuelled by a culture of humiliation. Supervisors regularly belittle and insult workers—especially women — when production goals aren’t met. “They are told things like, ‘Why do you come to work? Are you coming to distract the male workers?’” says Yashodha.
Financial precarity adds to the stress. With wages barely covering daily expenses, workers shoulder debt burdens and struggle to provide for their children’s education. Taking leave — even for illness or family emergencies — becomes a luxury many cannot afford.
Yet, amidst the grim accounts, there are glimpses of resistance and change. Workers trained under the Amplifying Workers’ Voices programme, supported by the Azim Premji Foundation, are beginning to push back. Shobha, a worker-leader, recounts confronting an unrealistic production target of 150 garment pieces per hour. “We can barely manage 70–80!” she exclaims. “But now, at least we argue with the supervisor. They used to scare us by sending naysayers to the HR room. Earlier workers cried, but now we’re not afraid to answer back.”
Priyanka, a garment worker turned field officer, laments the lack of awareness about grievance redressal mechanisms. “I never knew about the statutory Factory Committees where workers can report grievances. I wish I knew about them when I was a worker,” she says.
Some workers, like Lakshmi, remember rare instances of fair treatment. Lakshmi worked for the now-closed Bangalore-based Namasthe Exports, where the owner respected workers’ union meetings. “He never stopped us. He even requested us to bring our problems directly to him,” she says. Workers were served masala dosais when they had to work on Sundays. “Respect channagite,” she adds (Respect was good.).
Encouragingly, there are spaces where workers feel heard and supported. In the last one year, Cividep staff has seen garment workers doubling up as trainers to their peers, leather homeworkers seeking better rates from local agents and winning, and young women escaping an extortion bid while searching for electronics factory jobs. At workshops under the MAP project, garment workers openly discuss reproductive health issues and propose solutions like menstrual leave, better sanitation, and free sanitary napkins.
At worker-led events like the Youth Sangamam, organised by Cividep this year, the mood was celebratory. Several hundred electronics workers in Sriperumbudur danced, sang, and showcased their talents. “I enjoyed the experience. You brought many of us together and helped us show our talents,” said Savithri, a worker who took to the stage.
These moments of shared laughter, expression, and solidarity are reminders of workers’ resilience. As we look ahead to the coming year, we hope to amplify more such voices, ensuring that every worker’s story is heard.
(Inputs by Priya Joseph)