I was working a manufacturing job and in the middle of my gender transition. My plan was to transition in secret until I could no longer hide the changes to my body. The courage I had needed to come out would remain bottled within me. Meanwhile, at my job, my growing resentment turned toward another goal that I had always held close to my heart. I had begun organizing a union.
Drawing on the shared hope among my coworkers, we had created a secret committee. Under the watchful eye of upper management, we were made to feel smaller with each day. Sometimes the effort to unionize would wane, the courage within us stamped out like flame.
After two years, the day came to sign our union cards. One week later we were fired. The theory was that someone up for promotion told management about us, privileging their own advancement. Although that may never be confirmed. I never did come out as transgender at that job and we never did win the union.
Recalling the rush of my clandestine organizing activity, I returned to the factory. Trespassing, I brought other women with me, sharing together our hope for our working lives. In photographing here, and occupying the factory, it was repurposed for our own aims against the will of my old bosses. From the margins we took action.
A Single Spark Can Start a Prairie Fire is about facing fears, finding acceptance, and being a little inflammatory along the way. At the factory I found myself in perfect company.
