Labor Day is fast approaching.  And as we forge ahead into what I can only pray is the last leg of the COVID-19 mega marathon (pretty sure it’s a century run and not just your standard 26.2 miles!), I’m forced to reckon with the actual idea behind Labor Day and not just what I am going to take to my neighbor’s outdoor-social-distanced barbeque.  (For those of you wondering, the answer is White Claw, Capri Suns, and my homemade guacamole.) 

What is Labor Day supposed to mean?

Labor Day honors the contributions and achievements of American workers.  It is traditionally observed on the first Monday of September.  While it also traditionally signals the end of summer, Labor Day began with the labor movement in the late 19th century and became a federal holiday in 1894.  

Labor Day came at the height of the Industrial Revolution in the US, when the average American worker put in 12-hour days, 7 days a week, in order just to eke out a basic living. Children as young as 5 or 6 worked in mills, factories, and mines across the country, often at a fraction of the wage of their adult counterparts.  (Given I can hardly get my 10-year-old to make her bed, I find this fact staggering.) 

All workers, particularly recent immigrants, often faced dangerous working conditions and lacked access to fresh air and bathroom facilities. There was no such thing as breaks.  As manufacturing began to surpass farming as the primary employer in America, labor unions became more vocal. They began organizing strikes and rallies to protest poor labor conditions and renegotiate with their employers for better pay, hours, and working conditions. As protests often do, many of these riots became violent. In the infamous Haymarket Riot of 1886, police killed one worker and injured several others, and a worker threw a bomb, which killed seven police and injured many others.  Later, on September 5, 1882, 10,000 laborers took to the streets of Manhattan to march from City Hall to Union Square, holding the first-ever Labor Day Parade. 

Compelled by this marching strike and a nationwide boycott of all Pullman railway cars and the American Railroad Union, the need to reform working conditions and the state of the American worker was now center on the political stage. President Grover Cleveland later signed the holiday into law. 

Labor Day’s intent was to laud the American worker. 

The men and women working the lines and mines, increasing our overall standard of living.   

Nowadays, in the tradition of that first Manhattan march, Labor Day is often celebrated with parades and cookouts. (White Claw optional.) But as we plunder on in this pandemic, I just have to wonder—have we yet again, in this age of Digital Revolution, forgotten our unsung heroes?  

Many of us, myself included, could argue that work hours are now long with a constant ability to “stay connected” through technology.  And for sure, the idea of a mere 40-hour workweek seems foreign to me.  And yet, my work week includes me sitting in my comfy desk chair, often in my business mullet of soft pants and a business shirt, cranking up my Mumford and Sons, and folding laundry when I hear the dryer buzz.  One could hardly support an argument that my work conditions are anything other than privileged.   

But not all can say the same. 

The pandemic highlighted our country’s need for the essential worker and shifted just whom we think of as essential.  Locally, in Richmond, VA, the food packing manufacturing company that makes to-go packaging and wrappers for fast food chains, Sabert, saw an uptick in orders.  And their workers continued day in and day out to work the line  to get those packages to the workers in the fast-food chains and the restaurants we all Door Dashed from while we sat in our soft pants and scoured the internet for new banana bread recipes mid-lockdown.  Minimum wage workers at grocery stores and food distribution centers went into work, while the rest of us were told it was better to flatten the curve and stay home. Other manufacturing plants switched gears to make masks, distilleries made hand sanitizers, and furniture manufacturers made portable hospital beds. While we worked from home and ordered new baking tins that Amazon workers wrapped and shipped, while their CEO packed for space.   

Perhaps it is time to rethink our Labor Day plans. 

Perhaps instead of just flipping burgers and raising our White Claws, we also include thanking those countless American workers who kept us afloat during the pandemic and continue to do so.  Perhaps we tip bigger. Perhaps we vote to raise the minimum wage to a living wage.  Perhaps we disconnect from our own jobs a little more freely.   Perhaps we show a moment of gratitude (join me in raising your White Claw) to the laborers who manufacture the necessities and comforts we take for granted daily (including my White Claw).