It’s a very strange feeling to know or feel like I’m dying while I’m working. I thought I would be on my deathbed. I guess a deathbed costs too much. I know no one cares enough to help with that.
My stomach is killing me. But these days something is always hurting or not functioning right.
It doesn’t matter what anyone says. This I know for sure. Because they won’t tell the truth. I’m so sick of people and their lies.
They will never be held accountable. This is a fact. They will never tell the truth. They can’t even acknowledge it to themselves. It’s not like they are going to get in trouble for being honest.
The “successful” people belong together. We get in the way. And I remind them of who they really are. They won and they are living their reward. But why am I still suffering? Others die.
All of my uncles are dead. Two of my aunts are deceased. My uncles died within about 6 weeks. All for health reasons. One was cancer. I wonder why I despise a country who doesn’t care about people’s health. It’s money or health and this country chooses money.
What happened in Arkansas at Tyson Foods?
During the course of Alice’s reporting, the COVID-19 pandemic struck the community, and the workers were forced to continue production in unsafe conditions, watching their colleagues get sick and die one by one. These essential workers, many of whom only speak Spanish and some of whom are illiterate—all of whom suffer the health consequences of Tyson’s negligence—somehow found the strength and courage to organize and fight back, culminating in a lawsuit against Tyson Foods, the largest meatpacking company in America.
– From the book Alice Driver wrote on workers: Life and Death of the American Worker: The Immigrants Taking on America’s Largest Meatpacking Company
I wonder why people don’t talk about this. Of course I’m being sarcastic. They want to appear good. But they made a choice. People or money. In the United States, there is only one clear choice.
Stomach still hurting. I would love to say no more work today, but when I have to do more tomorrow or this weekend, I will regret it. But eff it. I will do my forced labor tomorrow…unless I feel better within the next hour.