Garment Workers Share What It's Really Like to Make Your Clothes: ‘My Monthly Salary Is $114’

It always feels special when our clothing is labeled “handmade,” whether we make it ourselves or it's packaged that way. Too often, though, we forget that all clothing is made by someone (often dozens of people). We tend to devalue the labor of some while uplifting the labor of others.

Fashion’s garment workers are the foundation of so much of our modern world, in style and equality. Whether it was the mill girls in Lowell, Massachusetts, who created the first women’s worker union, the garment workers who survived the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire and started the women’s movement, the workers who created groundbreaking standards that have saved lives in the years after Rana Plaza in Bangladesh collapsed, young women garment workers have been at the forefront of change. Still, their voices are often overtaken by the other side of fashion, that highlights glitz and glamour and pushes to always find something new.

“Worker-centered interventions in the fashion industry, like our Fight the Heist campaign, are the only way to create real change,” Abiramy Sivalogananthan, Asia Floor Wage Alliance’s South Asia coordinator, tells Teen Vogue. “When workers lead, their voices demand justice and expose exploitation.”

Jeeva Muhil, a garment organizer for Global Labor Justice, adds, "Now a new generation of young women garment workers are organizing across factories and borders. They are even building relationships with women workers in the US. The fashion industry has no idea what's coming."

For this story, we are turning the spotlight toward five young women in Bangladesh, Indonesia, and Cambodia who work in different factories where they make clothes for some of your favorite brands. Many of these young women, who Teen Vogue contacted via the workers rights organization Global Labor Justice, told us about the poor conditions in their factory and their desire to be seen by the brands they are making clothing for and the consumers who buy them.

Below, read the stories of what it’s like to be a garment worker in the words of the women who are not only making clothing and footwear every day, but also fighting to make things better for their families and coworkers.

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GREY LINE

Ratna Tigga – Bangladesh, 28 years old

I moved to Dhaka from a small village when I was 20. I grew up in my grandparents’ house, going to school and playing football. I was a very good midfielder and dreamed of joining the national team. After high school and attempting university entrance exams, I got married and moved to the capital looking for work. When we arrived, I owned one dress; I’d come home every night and wash it for the next day.

I wake up at 6 a.m. to prepare food and get ready for work. I’m at the factory by 8 a.m., and I spend long hours sewing pants.

In November, a worker’s leg was cut off by the cargo track at the factory. My coworkers and I refused to work until she received compensation. Since December, we’ve had to work 14 hours each day to make up for lost production.

Until the overtime started, I went every day to my union office to help less literate workers file complaints. I joined the Garment Workers Unity League after the first factory where I worked closed in 2023. I spent a year fighting for pay we were owed and learning about the union. We finally won an agreement for backpay; now I get calls and visits every day from my old coworkers thanking me.

My six-year-old daughter lives with my in-laws since I work long hours. She’s very mature. She used to ask to come live with me but now says she needs to take care of her grandparents. We talk by video call every week. She often asks for chocolates. My monthly salary is $114; between food, rent, and sending money to the village, I rarely have enough. This month with all the overtime, I earned an extra $40 and sent candy.

Fashion brands must recognize our hard work, pay higher salaries, lower workloads, and offer paid maternity leave. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished so far. I’m determined to keep working and fighting for a brighter future for my daughter and my coworkers.

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GREY LINE

Siti Nursyafitri – Indonesia, 25 years old

I was born with a mole near my mouth, and in Indonesian society, that means I would be clever and a good speaker. And it’s true: I got a scholarship to study law at a prestigious university in Bandung, but I only lasted through two semesters because the scholarship didn’t cover my living expenses.

So I went to work, and like many young women in my region, I started in a factory making Nike shoes. I was 18; I was so young. I couldn’t believe how management treated me. The production targets were so high and stressful that my supervisor would kick things and scream at me. I learned quickly to defend myself and dared to join my union, the National Workers' Union of Indonesia (SPN), to push for all workers’ rights.

The COVID pandemic was terrible for me and my coworkers. I was pregnant when our hours and pay were cut. When my son arrived, I didn’t have enough money to buy proper food.

When I learned that Nike made record profits during those years of so much suffering, I was determined to fight back. I was the first one in my factory to speak publicly about our fight with Nike. In 2023, I spoke to hundreds of people in the US about my experience. It felt amazing.

Now I realize there are workers like me in so many countries, all with similar experiences. Many of us have been silent because we’re afraid of getting fired. But I broke through, and I want to show others they can speak up too.

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GREY LINE

Sakinah – Indonesia, 24 years old

I was born in Palembang, a city in Sumatra known for its bright, distinctive clothing. I moved to the island of Java during high school. I went to an Islamic school and entered speech competitions, giving speeches to big groups. After I graduated, I taught kindergarten and primary school, but couldn’t earn enough to pay for university courses.

I began working in a shoe factory making Nike shoes while continuing my studies. I was happy at first; seeing so many other young coworkers, it felt like working with friends. Soon I understood the problems at the factory. I got sick with typhoid and missed three days of work. When I returned, the manager scolded me, claiming I had “just made an excuse” for missing work. I joined my union, Garteks, and learned a lot.

The pay isn’t nearly enough in the factory. Together with friends in the union we held demonstrations and won a small raise — 6.5%. Last year I graduated university, and I had my daughter, who’s now 18 months old. She stays with my in-laws while I work. She had seizures as a baby and our expenses are always more than my salary.

A few months ago, I made a video with some of my union sisters in Indonesia and Sri Lanka, challenging Nike to put us in their advertisements. Nike makes so many ads about strong women, why not us too? What could be stronger than the women who work hard making their shoes and fight to survive on such low wages?

When we were filming, I was a little scared of retaliation from the factory, but my husband and my union leaders supported me. Afterwards my coworkers saw the video and they said now I’m famous, an advertising star!

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GREY LINE

Sonia Nurhayati – Indonesia, 23 years old

In high school I played drums in the marching band and dreamed of being a psychologist. I got a scholarship to a university in Semarang, but [I couldn’t] go.

At 18, I got a job in a garment factory. It was nothing like I’d expected. Management said the hours were 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. but made us stay until 6 p.m. We worked six days each week. I worked in quality control; since the production targets were too high and everyone rushed, I often had to send back items for low quality.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” my supervisor would yell in front of everyone. “Are you blind?”

Eventually I left and came to the factory where I work now. I joined the Garteks union because I know we deserve better. When I became active in the union, my manager didn’t like it. She said, “You’re smart, it’s a shame for you to waste it.” She offered to make me an assistant manager but I turned it down; I prefer to stay active in the union. I want to be part of the fighters and helpful to other people.

I often work six days a week. I need the overtime — but if our production target isn’t met, we have to work extra hours without overtime pay. When I have time off, I get together with friends and we cook or order spicy noodles. Sometimes we travel to nearby cities.

Brands should pay us fair wages. I want to be able to save a little money so I can live on my own, get married, and prepare for children. Instead I often have to “dig one hole to cover another,” borrowing money from friends or relatives. Most of us workers are women.

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GREY LINE

Chim Sinuon – Cambodia, 25 years old

I recently saw a man wearing a Nike shirt made in my factory. I asked if he knew what it’s like for the workers who made that shirt. It takes a line of 25 workers, and each line makes up to one thousand shirts every day. He was shocked we earn so little — the shirt was so expensive!

I grew up on a farm near Phnom Penh. I loved horror stories and dreamed I’d be an author. I still think about writing, but I have little energy after work. At 18 I moved in with my grandfather in the capital to look for work. Within months, I began at my first garment factory. I was so nervous.

I became an assistant to the mechanics who did maintenance on the factory’s big machines. The managers realized I’m a quick learner. They sent me to learn more about the machines. Eventually I became the youngest mechanic — and the only woman.

I miss working side by side with friends, eating lunch with them, celebrating with them as they get married. I make more money now, but not enough to save for a motorbike. Outside of work, I like to ride my bicycle in the evening and go back to my family’s farm on the weekend to care for the ducks and chickens.

I joined C.CAWDU union because only with the union can we speak our mind. We have to speak up because management keeps cutting workers and putting more work on the rest of us. We used to get overtime, but now we have to rush and hit our production targets earlier. Of course if anything goes wrong, they blame us!

I want people around the world to understand what our jobs are like, to understand how hard we work. It’s only gotten harder, and companies need to raise our wages, hire more workers, and respect our work.

Editor's note: Teen Vogue has reached out to the brands that these workers make clothing for, including Nike. As of publication time, none have responded. We have also reached out to each individual factory for comment. Nike publishes a list of factories it contracts with here, which is how Teen Vogue verified that the workers who named the brand work at factories the company contracts with.


Originally Appeared on Teen Vogue


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