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Photo Courtesy of OURWalmart
Dallas March
Dallas Walmart associates and their supporters were forced to march on the right-of-way next to Interstate 35 after management, backed by local police, refused access to store parking lots.
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Photo Courtesy of OURWalmart
Tupelo, MS
Walmart associates in Tupelo, MS, demonstrate for respect in their workplace.
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Photo Courtesy of OURWalmart
Change Walmart
A protest sign needing no explanation.
I came to pray with OURWalmart on Black Friday. I ended up following Jesus onto the bus.
The Monday before Thanksgiving, an email came from Jobs with Justice and the Dallas Workers' Rights Board, whose faith-based activities I've monitored in the past. The email said the Dallas contingent of OURWalmart had requested people of faith to join them as peer chaplains on Black Friday.
Since I work from home, I had the time and the inclination to show up at 7 a.m. Nov. 23. After all, my United Methodist denomination officially supports labor rights, a living wage, human dignity and ethical business in its Social Principles. Selfishly, I figured I could give up an hour or so, pray with the participants for safety and sanity (i.e., no violence and no arrests), and go home anonymously righteous.
As some dozen or so church folks gathered at the campaign's hotel, one of the union organizers explained the plan: We people of faith, especially clergy in visible garb, were asked to join the "walk backs" to support Walmart associates as they attempted to return to work after striking for the previous few days. In other words, OURWalmart wanted us to put our bodies on the line with them to seek a living wage, decent benefits and human dignity from their management. Visibly. Publicly.
Sitting next to me, Kim Batchelor, a member of Northaven United Methodist Church in Dallas and coordinator for the Dallas Area Christian Progressive Alliance, said: "I'm religious, not clergy, but I'm willing to join in."
What does 'religious' mean?
After the organizer took note of the volunteers, I asked Kim what "religious" meant to her as a Protestant laywoman like me. "I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I follow Jesus."
Her words shot into my brain. In that moment, an odd convergence occurred in my imagination. I envisioned a hymnal page bearing the music and words for an old evangelical hymn, "Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus." Over the hymn was stamped one of the slogans for OURWalmart: "Stand Up. Live Better."
I got the message. I got on the bus.
After a first brief stop in South Dallas braving the stinging wind of an approaching cold front, two busloads of demonstrators split up. The bus I was on headed to a Fort Worth store to perform a "walk back," or return-to-work action, with a striking employee named Jerome Allen. A lean African American elder with glasses and a shy grin, Jerome had walked off the job in early November, one of the first Walmart associates anywhere to do so. "I'm doing this for the folks who are too scared to do it themselves," he said.
The Fort Worth action proved to be my turn to stand up, much to my trepidation. Tapped as religious representatives, a Disciples of Christ pastor in clerical collar and I, wearing one of my many church-logo-emblazoned shirts, flanked Jerome as he and some of his fellow associates walked up to his store managers, who were backed by local police. Walmart management had police out in force at every stop, usually a contingent of three cruisers with up to six uniformed officers.
I was tense. Until becoming an advocacy journalist, I had been the observer behind a camera, not the activist in the lens. Even my previous participation in a demonstration supporting the Affordable Health Care Act had not hardened me to the sense of physical vulnerability that comes from standing up to authority.
Added to the intimidating police presence, one of the managers seemed determined to assert his command before OURWalmart's spokespeople could get a word out. The manager shot off rapid-fire instructions for us to move off Walmart's property as Jerome tried to give him a "return to work" notice provided by a supporting union, United Food & Commercial Workers.
Finally, a union organizer interrupted the manager: "Are you refusing to allow him to return to work as he's entitled to do under federal labor law?"
A canned speech
One heartbeat … two heartbeats. Then another man in tie and windbreaker, perhaps a corporate liaison, intervened. He reached out, took Jerome's return-to-work letter, and recited a clearly canned speech about receiving the notice but not having the authority to make a decision.
The organizer repeated his challenge, and then the store manager asked Jerome when he was next scheduled to work. "Nine o'clock," Jerome replied, meaning nine o'clock that morning. Since he wasn't late to work, the manager said, Jerome could go into the store.
"Jerome is returning to work," one of the associates bellowed through the bullhorn. We cheered, got on the bus, and headed back to Dallas. Associates on our bus cautioned everyone to be on their guard at the final store, where self-professed conservative Christian management had a reputation for employee intimidation and retaliation. I took out my prayer beads and prayed all the way back to the hotel where we rejoined the other bus.
Sure enough, as we passed the store on the way to our parking spot, another line of management backed by local police stood resolutely outside. Marching along the road right-of-way single-file behind a color guard of neon-green flags and Old Glory, we chanted defiance:
Walmart, Walmart, you're no good. Treat your workers like you should.
They say, Rollback. We say, Fight Back.
Stand Up! Live Better!
We are unstoppable! Another world is possible!
After another successful "walk back," a brief prayer service ensued. Once again, we "religious" were called to the front to speak. Theologian Joerg Rieger, a Perkins School of Theology professor, read prayers sent in by the East Dallas Cooperative Parish. A pastor quoted Luke 10:7: "A worker is worthy of his wage."
Then they passed the microphone to me. All I could think of was our congregation's mission statement.
"The people of St. Stephen United Methodist Church share God's unconditional love with the world," I said. "So we stand with Walmart associates seeking a living wage and benefits, and respect from management."
How lame, I thought. It's a good thing not everyone could hear me above the wind and the traffic noise off Interstate-35.
Workers sought faith component
But as we marched back to the buses after singing "This Little Light of Mine," I recalled asking one of the coordinators why the Dallas demonstrations had a religious component that seemed lacking elsewhere, judging from event listings on the organization's website.
"The workers asked for it," the organizer said. "I'm not religious myself, but the associates really wanted the churches' support, especially at the [last] store. They thought that maybe if the managers could see them praying, see church people with them, they'd respect them more. It was their choice, and we'd be just like Walmart management if we didn't listen to what they wanted."
Could it be that Jesus was on the bus with Walmart associates long before any of us church folks got the word? And what about those self-professed Christian managers? Can they see their associates as Jesus saw them, and can their associates see their managers similarly?
Now I'm pondering this: Jesus called on his followers to live as though another possible world was already here. If that call is still true today, shouldn't more of us be getting on the bus?