Fans pick 100 books like Household Workers Unite

I am a wee bit obsessed with mysteries. This is my genre of choice for vacations, plane rides, and the occasional lazy afternoon. And I love the way that Barbara Neely blends a classic whodunnit with the topic of gender equality. Barbara Neely, who is now deceased, left the world with a gem of a 4-book series about Blanche White, who is a domestic worker by profession—and an accidental sleuth on the side.

But what I love most about this series is the way Neely weaves huge issues like misogyny, racism, classism, and violence through her story while delivering a smart, page-turning mystery. In her own words, “fiction is a good place to do activism.” 

Out of the House of Bondage destroys the myth of the Southern plantation mistress as a delicate, gentle being presiding over a household maintained by passive, devoted, enslaved women.

A professor of history and law at Duke University, Thavolia Glymph scoured female slaveholders’ diaries and enslaved and freed people’s narratives to expose the mistresses’ use of violence – cowhide whippings, “until she was just a piece of living raw meat”; burning with hot irons, “hot enough to take off flesh”; beating to death a crying baby – and enslaved women’s resistance, perceived then and described later as laziness, misbehavior, and insubordination.

Glymph’s uncovering of abuse upsets a familiar false narrative, dismantling previous scholarship and exposing white women’s use of violence to assert power. A seeker of missing voices and lost stories, I am deeply interested in what has been ignored, misinterpreted, or omitted.

Childress’s novel is a compilation of short pieces originally published serially in two different Black-owned newspapers. In each story, Mildred, a Black domestic worker in New York City, recounts to her friend, Marge, the humorous, infuriating, and all too familiar experiences of working for various white families across the city. She also describes her refusal to remain silent in the face of white employers’ micro-aggressions, outright venom, and fantasies that she’s their loving mammy. Childress’s stories were a powerful salve to the Black household workers and others who first read them in a newspaper. Most of them daily confronted similar situations and worse, but lacked the safety or resources to resist in the same direct ways. 

Bailey originated the term “misogynoir” in 2008 to describe, she writes, “the anti-Black racist misogyny that Black women experience, particularly in US visual and digital culture.” The controlling image of the “Mammy” has long been a hyper-visible, toxic presence in this milieu. In this book, Bailey examines the digital resistance and social media-based activisms of Black women—particularly queer and trans women—who seize representational power to dismantle the distorting stereotypes, expose their systemic impacts, and make spaces for telling their own diverse, gendered Black stories and enable others to do so as well. Throughout, Bailey makes clear that cultural representations have material, life-and-death effects, but also the capacity to create new and better worlds.

When the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) first opened its doors in 1965, sex discrimination had many different meanings to women who wrote in to complain.

Some pointed to the abysmally low pay in “women’s occupations” such as secretarial work, while others described the barriers women faced getting into professions such as management or law. Katherine Turk’s fascinating book shows us how and why this government agency invented an official definition for sex discrimination. 

Importantly too, Turk highlights the consequences this definition came to have for women in a varied occupations and professions. The EEOC’s understanding of sex equality helped improve workplaces for some categories of women workers, but not for most. 

Roxane Gay’s memoir writing is brilliant! So is her collection of personal essays written by women who have experienced sexual harassment and rape.

Gay’s painful introductory piece on learning to understand her own experience of being gang raped at age twelve as “not that bad” illuminates the problem with rape culture. Women learn to blame themselves. 

As the essays by other authors make clear, rape culture is bad and women are often denigrated when they speak out, but they must come together to foment change. Whether the essays focus on workplace harassment or date rape, they all hold key lessons for the importance of women’s sexual autonomy at work.

In the United States, we often describe the history of the women’s rights by talking about the first wave at the turn of the twentieth Century and the second wave beginning in the late 1960s.

Historian Dorothy Sue Cobble blows apart this distinction by looking at the women’s labor movement from the 1930s through the 1980s. From this perspective, outspoken women in labor unions like Myra Wolfgang fought for both equal rights and protective legislation throughout the twentieth Century. I loved reading about these fearless women.

Long before second-wave feminism, labor movement women battled to ease the burden of the “second shift” for working mothers, supported maternity leave policies, childcare programs, equal pay for equal work, and advanced social justice issues such as racial and economic inequality.

How can we remedy the fact that wages in predominantly female jobs (e.g., secretaries) have been devalued historically?

For comparable worth advocates, women should be paid a wage equivalent to men who work in a different job with similar skills and experience. But how do we evaluate and rank skills in different occupations to create equivalence? Sociologist Joan Acker takes us through two 1980s comparable worth evaluation processes to answer this question.

Her thought-provoking research demonstrates that the evaluation process itself was laden with gendered assumptions about the value of different skills. It also helps us understand how we can evade this problem in the future and create procedures with more equitable outcomes.  

Domestic workers, among the most exploited of the world’s working classes, knew they deserved more and believed the work they did – caring for the children, the disabled, the elderly – should be honored.

They organized first in Africa, Latin America, and Asia. Soon the movement spread across the world. Jennifer Fish travels with the movement, from Cape Town to Geneva, Montevideo, and beyond. Like the women she befriends, Fish believes in the power of community and of what can be achieved when workers imagine the world they want and start moving together toward it.

There’s no better book about international worker solidarity and the power of thinking and acting both local and global.

Once you’ve read Zinn, you are going to want to know more about the workers’ struggle. Among recent books, you can’t do better than Ahmed White’s book on this iconic struggle of the 1930s, when the steel companies massacred strikers and even the Roosevelt administration did nothing about it. Powerful story and very well-written.