Hong Kong domestic workers: Through the lens of an intern
Submitted by Crystal, intern at Asia Pacific Mission for Migrants
A summer day in Hong Kong entails hot, humid days where temperature reaches 30°C, or days with continuous, heavy downpour of rain. In weathers like these, typically we’d want to stay comfy indoors in our own home. Yet every week, migrant workers continue to gather outdoors, occupying areas like parks and bridges. It’s not just because they’re immune to the weather either. When I asked a migrant worker what she thinks of hot summer days or rainy days, I was told both aren’t great. They too appreciate mild, pleasant weather.
As pedestrians in Hong Kong, we may just politely walk past groups of migrant workers on a Sunday. Before we stop to wonder whether they just like to gather outside or if there’s more behind it, we’re already on our way, heading towards whatever we’re originally planning to go. However, during my internship in APMM, I have the opportunity to educate myself via research and also spend time with some of them during Sundays. Their story is more interesting than I initially thought, and I definitely appreciate how it answers my question with a new perspective.
Being a domestic helper in Hong Kong
In Hong Kong, many families prefer small nucleus household structures, and both parents could be working full time jobs, therefore having less time for other tasks that take time such as home cooking, household chores, taking care of children or elderly, or walking pets. By working as domestic helpers, migrant workers fill in this gap and are undeniably an important part of their employer’s family structure.
However, this job is uniquely demanding in ways we may have previously taken for granted. Domestic workers are required by law to live in their employer’s home, however most of them don’t receive their own bedroom to sleep in. Instead many have to share rooms with the employer’s children, or sleep in suboptimal places like hallway floors or kitchen. They have to wake up early to prepare breakfast in advance catering to their employer’s morning routine, but at the same time it’s hard to sleep in early if their employer’s family stays active till late night.
Imagine having a roommate who keeps us up at night when we have to wake up early the next day for work. We’d be annoyed about insufficient sleep and would want to negotiate for a schedule that works for both of us. It’s like that, except for domestic helpers there’s a notable power imbalance between them and their employer. If the employer wasn’t happy with the arrangement and decided to terminate their contract, a domestic helper only has two weeks to find another employer before their work visa expires. This can deter domestic helpers to speak up about their needs and negotiate for better working conditions with their employer.
The notion that women should stay at home to handle housework and caring for children while men go out to work and earn money is increasingly recognised as patriarchal. Hong Kong too is slowly moving away from it, as seen by the amount of families where mothers also choose to look for work and contribute financially. However, the gendered association of housework as feminine, and tendency to dismiss it as “not real work” or not as respectable, remains present. In fact, many domestic workers are bound by employer expectations. For example, to dress modestly, to be non-confrontative, to always appear productive at work. It’s not uncommon for employers to have curfews for their domestic helpers, only allow phone usage at night, or constantly critique their work performance. Domestic workers work long hours six days a week, and when they’re also residing in their employer’s house, it’s difficult to find true down time where they’re free from both work and emotional labor.
One free day of the week
Migrant workers in Hong Kong have one free day every week. In my internship, there’s an opportunity for me to join migrant workers in their shared meals and observe what they do on Sundays.
They browse and post on social media. They enjoy taking group photos in special moments, like celebrating each other’s birthdays. They buy international brand snacks for their family, and share boxes cramming each of them full to optimise shipping fees. Some like to put on light makeup and know how to give others manicures or pedicures. They cook native dishes to share with each other and bring drinks. They play card games, sing karaoke, and dance to music. They play volleyball in outdoor sports grounds. They attend religious worship. Some of them just want to take a nap.
It may read like mundane, everyday life, but we can appreciate how it shows what kind of needs migrant workers have and how they find it. While their work as a domestic helper is relatively isolating and places them in a position of servitude, they reclaim their own expression of identity. They can be themselves – from the way they dress, to what they would choose to do in a day. Talking to each other in their own native language, eating familiar food they used to eat at their home country, and embracing their culture of song and dance compensates for the scattered nature of domestic work where each one of them worked and lived separately in their own employer’s home, immersed in a different culture with little time to reconnect with their own.
It doesn’t just end there either. Some migrant workers have an active, fulfilling day. They practise singing as part of church choir teams. They may attend workshops about language, first aid, childcare and elderly care, enhancing their work competency. They learn how to use computer softwares, with plans of creating materials that effectively communicate to people in their home country and raise awareness. They keep up with their home country’s politics and organise protests so their voices would be heard by their government. They speak in international migrants rights online conferences, and volunteer to be part of migrant work union organisations so they can help those in need of support. Migrant workers celebrate their national holidays and organise cultural festivals, taking pride in preparation even if it means practising foot drills and flag carrying under the midday sun on a particularly hot summer day.
Their actions remind us that they’re not just some anonymous person. They are people with their own interests and aspirations, who happen to be providing for their family by taking up work abroad here to be a domestic helper. Moreover, for migrant workers, social gathering goes beyond reclaiming their own identity, it also strengthens the entire social group as well. They connect to support networks not just through official institutional channels, but crucially rely on word of mouth, passing information to each other of which organisations can provide the help they need.
The everyday negotiation of public space
We know that migrant workers live in their employer’s homes, but for them, home is also work. So where can they go and spend the day?
Ideally, that place should be versatile, allow a variety of leisurely activities, spacious enough to support groups of migrant workers who all are seeking an alternate space away from work, and can shield them from adverse weather. The problem is, our city is not designed to accommodate this aspect of migrant workers’ lives. Restaurants and cafes may have a minimum spending amount or seating time limits. Libraries disallow idle chatter or loud noises. While various NGOs offer workshops for them to join, the setting implicitly comes with expectation for participants to follow the workshop plan. Therefore, many migrant workers gather in the one space that allows leisure activity – parks and beaches. In there it’s more acceptable to bring their own plastic mats, create their own little picnic zone, then sit down to chat, share food or listen to music. These places are open areas with no overhead roof to shield from rain. In the case of severe weather like an active typhoon warning, they too would have to stay indoors at home instead of going outside. Otherwise, when it’s raining they move to footbridges, underpasses, pavilions, I’ve even seen someone set up their own makeshift cover by tying a sheet of plastic tarp between two trees. If there is a roof, there is a way. if there isn’t, they make one anyway.
When places where migrant workers used to gather like Statue Square and HSBC Heritage Plaza are closed off for development projects with no real solutions offered on where else they can stay, their need for space that allows them to be free for a day don’t just disappear. Migrant workers move to find another area where they can settle instead. Areas like underpasses, sideways and bridges aren’t designed to host idling people, but rules for public spaces aren’t written and set in stone. It’s an ongoing negotiation between the intention of those who plan our city space, and the people living there who adapt and transform spaces in creative ways through lived everyday actions. By renting cardboard boxes to use as mats, prop it up as dividers, or using tarps or umbrellas to serve as cover, migrant workers each carve a small space for themselves.
In the future, if more of us hear from migrant workers what their experiences are and what they need, we can be more aware of their presence in our city and consider their rest day gathering patterns into part of our city planning. Hong Kong is an international city that hosts a mixture of different cultures, and as a local resident here, I would be happy if this city can live up to its title and strive to be a place where everyone, no matter their background, culture, or purpose of stay, feel equally accepted and respected when living here. While we aren’t all politicians directly making decisions for our city, even having an open mind and a willingness to listen can change things, bit by bit, starting from a change in perspective.