My Immigrant Parents Won’t Close Their Shop (and They Really Should)
04/18/20
by Aram Han Sifuentes
I am pissed at my parents because they won’t close their dry cleaning shop.
My parents are immigrant Korean American seniors who have been working at their dry-cleaning shop for 27 years now, 6 days a week without vacations. Last year they put their dry-cleaning business up for sale. They told me that they were ready to retire. My parents want to move to Chicago, hang out with my child - their grandchild, travel, and my mom wants to make art (she used to be an artist in Korea). And my dad has an ongoing battle with cancer. They hadn’t been having much luck with selling the business but in the last month (February and early March) they had quite a few showings, and they were feeling optimistic that it wouldn’t be much longer until they were able to retire. Then Covid19 happened.
They live in the Central Valley in California and they heard they were going shelter-in-place on March 17th. They decided to stay open two hours a day for pick up only until they heard from their friend (who I am also pissed at) that dry cleaning is an essential business and that they can remain open. So, then they remained opened.
I would not call what they are doing essential work. My parents' business is mainly for commuting businesspeople working in the Bay Area. If they were more of a laundry service or had contracts with hospitals or essential businesses, I would understand. They would only close if they were ordered to but because they fall into the essential services category, they are staying open while not really providing essential services and putting themselves at risk. Also, there is another dry cleaning business staying open a block away so people would still have access to dry cleaning services.
I’ve been having conversations with them every day to convince them to close the shop.
“You will die if you get this.”
“No one needs their clothes dry cleaned right now.”
“You aren’t even making any money by staying open.”
“Your granddaughter needs you. I need you.”
“We can’t even visit you in the hospital if you get sick with this.”
“Who is going to translate for you if you get sick?”
My parents haven’t even been wearing masks because no one around them are wearing them. They live in a predominantly white, Latinx, and Sikh neighborhood. And as Eastern Asian Americans, they have been scared of wearing masks because they think that’ll put them in danger of racist remarks and threats. They have been wearing gloves and cleaning down surfaces after every customer comes and goes.
They told me on March 27th that they will be closed starting the following Monday. I was thrilled. I was so proud of them for making this difficult but necessary decision. I called them on Monday, and they had gone to work. “We’re only open from 10am – 2pm so we’re not there all day so you don’t have to worry.” I was pissed. Since then they told me again that they will close the week of April 13th and when I spoke to them on April 10th, they told me they’ll stay open.
I can’t convince them to close but we came to the agreement that they’ll start wearing masks on top of wearing gloves and cleaning down surfaces as often as possible. On top of this, I suggested to them to make masks and sell them because they haven’t seen anyone in their town wearing them. So, they started making masks and are selling them. They’ve actually sold quite a few. My partner tells me this is bad advice because now they are continuing to work because they are making some money.
Masks that my mom started to make and sell.
My parents assured me that they will close if things get worse, but things have already gotten worse so how much worse does it need to get?
I genuinely don’t understand. I never have. My parents have missed out on so much because they have to work. The shop has to remain open. My dad had surgery and even though the doctor told him not to go back to work for two weeks, he went directly to the cleaners from the hospital the day he was discharged. When my parents went to Korea twice in the last 27 years, they did it in three to four days: one day traveling there (12 hour flight), one day to see my mom’s side of the family, the next day to see my dad’s side of the family, then the next day to travel back. I didn’t have a wedding partly because I knew my parents wouldn’t miss work for it. After the birth of my child, my mom initially told me she couldn’t come because she would have to miss work, but she came.
I know it is a privilege that they even have the option to close but choose not to while many Americans are forced to work. So, when they have the option, why is work so most important to them? Why does it take priority over spending time with family and even their own safety and health? I know this story is not unique. It’s even a cliché of Asian immigrant working class parents. I just don’t get it, but maybe this really just speaks to my privilege. To work or not to work feels like a life or death decision for my parents. They will work at all costs even at a risk to themselves and their health because working has provided them everything they have and everything I am able to achieve. Also, it isn’t a new concept for them to risk their safety and health for work. My dad has cancer and we know many people who work in the dry cleaning business that also have cancer. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that these people who are in close proximity to hazardous chemicals are becoming sick and dying. Capitalism has never protected the lives of those who we now call essential workers. In this moment, it becomes really clear to me that every luxury and convenience that we have in our everyday lives is on the back of someone’s labor and a risk to their lives. Even with something as innocuous as dry cleaning your clothes.
During the last phone conversations on April 10th, I cried and cried, and they told me to stop crying and that they will take a week off of work. I told them they told me that already and didn’t follow through. They sent me a photo as proof of the handwritten sign they posted on their front door that says “Closed April 13th – 18th. Reopen April 20th. Sorry.”
Aram Han Sifuentes is a South Korean-American social practice fiber artist, writer, curator, and a professor at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Sifuentes was born in Seoul, South Korea and immigrated to Modesto, California in 1992. She currently resides in Chicago, Illinois.
Aram Han Sifuentes worked on this piece with the Quarantine Times special editor Marc Fischer. Occasionally, Marc selects a Chicago artist to share a commissioned creative response to the pandemic.
