freelance – The Establishment https://theestablishment.co Mon, 22 Apr 2019 20:17:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=5.1.1 https://theestablishment.co/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/cropped-EST_stamp_socialmedia_600x600-32x32.jpg freelance – The Establishment https://theestablishment.co 32 32 For Freelance Artists, Workers Compensation Is Usually Out Of Reach https://theestablishment.co/for-freelance-artists-workers-compensation-is-usually-out-of-reach-2/ Fri, 20 Jul 2018 15:41:48 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=1206 Read more]]> How do you quantify the impact of a poem not yet written or a song not yet performed?

Two years ago, I caught fire at one of the eight jobs I was working at the time. The scars from the second-degree burns on my hip are still slightly visible. I consider myself lucky.

But today, I’m still troubled by what could have been.

My injury happened on site at a catering event. It was 4:30 p.m.; I had been at work since 5:00 a.m. and was scheduled for another shift with another company at 5:30 p.m. Before the pain of my pants being literally on fire could even reach my brain, I was panicking about being able to make my second shift. If I called out, would they believe me? Would I jeopardize future shifts with them?

The second thread of my panic: Would I be able to perform in 24 hours? I had been preparing for the opening of a four-night run for months. How was I supposed to dance with the skin on my right hip burned off?

I missed my second catering shift but wound up performing the next night. It hurt but was fine. Somehow, my employer agreed without question to pay for all of my medical bills. It was easier for them (and probably for me) to process my receipts and cut me checks outside of the Workers Compensation Board than to slog through the system.


How was I supposed to dance with the skin on my right hip burned off?
Click To Tweet


Still, I began having conversations with legal assistants about whether this could be a viable workers’ comp case. When the tears stopped and the painkillers kicked in, I felt confident. I was a dancer. Who knew how this might affect my future projects? I luckily just caught the deadline to file a claim to the board within 30 days of the injury.

As it turned out, this probably wouldn’t have made a difference. I was naive, and so was the sympathetic legal assistant I spoke to for over an hour. Lawyers at multiple firms all agreed I had no case. If I could earn income otherwise, my employer owed me nothing. All of a sudden, having multiple skills was an obstacle, not an advantage. When I asked for compensation for the pain and suffering I experienced, they offered me $75 on the condition that I sign an agreement barring me from suing them in the future. By paying for my bills, they were paying me to shut up. My pain and suffering wasn’t worth a measly $75; my silence definitely wasn’t either.

Stories like mine are common because freelancers are everywhere. In 2017, the Freelancers Union and Upwork released the results of a comprehensive study on the independent workforce. They found that over a third of the U.S. workforce freelances (57.3 million people), bringing $1.4 trillion to the economy each year.

Today’s WeWork iteration of a freelancer has been filtered through Silicon Valley’s branding as someone who sips coffee in a co-working space while coding fancy things on their computer. But freelancers have and will continue to be people who also take care of and educate your children (Care.com), cook and serve your food (restaurants and catering), clean your homes (Task Rabbit), drive you around (Lyft, etc.), and do the temp work that offices don’t want to pay someone full-time to do. We are part of the grease that keeps the United States functioning.

It is no coincidence that many artists have found themselves freelancing. It can offer folks a reasonably steady (if seasonal) stream of income that can facilitate the time and headspace to create things. Nearly every artist I know refers to their side hustles as the income for the work they actually want to do. The gestational phases of an artist’s process often evolve unsupported by a direct paycheck or audience. Having one’s work recognized in the field requires this time, and it’s not surprising that so many artists choose and are well-suited for the gig economy lifestyle.

But under this guise of flexibility, employers are actually serving us disposability. My budding “reputation” as a 5-star cater waiter was super important to me in 2016 — it brought me more and better shifts, better assignments on shifts, and kept me thinking I was on track to earn raises. Of course, when I asked for a raise I was told no; instead of giving me what I deserved, they could just find someone else to pass the same tray of hors d’oeuvres for less. In a capitalist economy, employers are going to trim wherever they can to pay workers less — lower salary and no benefits. As long as the work gets done, who cares if we can barely make ends meet or prepare for an emergency fund?


All of a sudden, having multiple skills was an obstacle, not an advantage.
Click To Tweet


Not only are artists often contributing to many sectors of the economy without adequate pay, we’re constantly justifying the value of our artistic work to everyone who makes a passing judgement. With direct earnings from babysitting or bartending, someone’s “value to society” is made tangible and obvious. But how do you quantify the impact of a poem not yet written or a song not yet performed?

With the federal budget allocating more than 3,600 times as much funding on the military as on the NEA, the United States’ per capita spending on the arts is miniscule compared to other wealthy nations. Again, artists’ participation in the gig economy is convenient for the economy and for artists. But working multiple jobs can only increase the likelihood of an injury, which, combined with the lack of a safety net protected by law, can be devastating, not just for an individual but for the loss to society of art that wasn’t made.

I spoke to Elisa Clark, a former dancer with Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater who has been navigating the New York State Workers’ Compensation Board since getting ankle surgery in 2017. Even though she was an employee of one of the largest dance organizations in the United States, she has still struggled to get the treatment she needs. Her lawyer told her, “The system is designed to wear you out. Most people just give up because it’s a headache. But stay persistent.”

When seeking treatment, the Board has a 30-day window to respond to a claim. “From my perspective, it seemed that Workers Compensation was more focused on finding reasons to deny treatment, rather than help injured workers get back to work,” said Clark. In one instance, the doctor’s notes were deemed insufficient. In another, they just never replied. “It seems like if you have a claim, you are bound by the rules, but the Board doesn’t seem to follow the rules that apply to their response.”

For Many Freelance Writers, Food Stamps Are The Only Way To Get By
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As of May 2018, she was still waiting on authorization for further exams. While her recovering ankle may meet the legal requirements for mobility, it certainly wasn’t mobile enough for a full return to the kind of dance work she was performing, and was continuing to get offers for while on the mend. At each visit, her doctor had to measure her disability as a percentage, quantifying an experience that is always relative to the body at hand.

Beyond being a dancer requiring a greater range of motion than the average person, Clark said, “As a person, I can’t do things equally. We as dancers know that any significant imbalance can cause a chain reaction of additional injuries and/or long-term physical issues.” But the law’s consideration of disability doesn’t seem to take into account this inevitable future.

Even athletes, people whose virtuosic able-bodiedness are central to their work and are recognized by society at large, don’t seem to have it much easier. In 2014, the NFL won a legal battle that barred most pro players from filing workers comp in California. The NCAA conceived the term “student athlete” to skirt workers comp obligations for the players that bring in billions but receive none of it. Cirque du Soleil has had performers become injured or even die because of their work, and here too, workers comp support has been capped by state laws. The advent of the workers’ comp industrial complex mirrors other systems that have grown out of an economic system (see the military, prison, medical industrial complexes) where workers’ rights have been steadily eroded in favor of corporate profits.

Let’s not have these glitzy displays of physical ability erase the fact that all work is embodied. Crunching numbers, sketching on a notepad, and editing film all engage our bodies in some way or another. What separates an injured freelance artist from a salaried worker is that the system at hand fails independent contractors at large and erases the specific nature of an artist’s work from consideration in the medical care provided. That a body can be contorted to do something else that generates income exploits the versatility of freelance artists and further negates our creative work. Rarely do artists generate the entirety of their income from their work, but that doesn’t make the art less integral to the communities it reaches. What makes a rich arts culture isn’t just the hyper-successful celebrities. It’s a society that supports artists at every stage of their career and takes full care of its artists when injuries arise.

So how’s a multi-skilled freelancer supposed to navigate the system designed to exploit us with its inconsistent red tape?

Clark suggests organization as a strong defense: “Saving all my receipts, doctor’s notes, pay stubs, etc, to show exactly how much I earned during the time following surgery. It seems that the more organized I was with the facts, the less the ‘system’ could argue with me.”

You could also demand a contract. The “Freelance isn’t Free Law” that passed in NYC in 2017 only protects workers earning over $800 in a 4-month period. Still, asking to sign a contract with an employer for any project can facilitate self-advocacy, clarifying terms for all parties involved on not only benefits but timely compensation.

The artists-service organization Fractured Atlas suggests that most insurers won’t support workers comp for project-based, temporary work. So the responsibility ultimately falls on freelancers to advocate for this support in contracts because employers are unlikely to want to front the costs.

The Actors Fund offers the kind of collective safety net for artists that should be required by law. Beyond careful recordkeeping, contracts, and the support of organizations, are there possibilities for the kind of union that are starting to re-surge among pro athletes?


That a body can be contorted to do something else that generates income exploits the versatility of freelance artists.
Click To Tweet


With artists, our networks are so interwoven, the possibilities for organizing could be easier in some respect. A big part of being an artist is consuming and participating in the work of our peers, resulting in many tight pockets of communities. But with so much work happening off books, and work in temp industries being seen as so replaceable, it’s easy to feel demoralized about our collective power.

But this also happens if we zoom in too tightly on artists alone, who statistically tend to come from more privileged backgrounds in order to bear the risks intrinsic to this lifestyle. When considering the broader workforce that comprises the gig economy and the shadow economy, it’s of no surprise that most workers are of color and many are immigrants, who face further systemic challenges to getting care in event of an injury. It’s important to acknowledge the difference between those who willfully participate in the gig economy to make room for their art and those whose primary viable options are boxed in by the shadow economy. It’s easy to imagine all the people who don’t have the means to even be considered for entry into the exclusive world of sanctified art.

But we need to imagine what this world could look like. Recognizing the intersectionality for artists of color, immigrants artists, disabled artists can uplift not only our artist work but our collective possibilities for organizing in a system where workers and consumers both lose. The food-deliverer protests in the UK and Australia can provide some examples here. If we imagine how many of those workers are also artists, how many of the workers around us all the time are also artists, it becomes harder not to sense how artists are everywhere all the time, trying to get through the day so that they can make their work.

No one’s going to pay us to organize, but to protect the longevity of our bodies and all of the work we contribute, it’s another hustle that deserves our attention.

]]>
For Freelance Artists, Workers Compensation Is Usually Out Of Reach https://theestablishment.co/for-freelance-artists-workers-compensation-is-usually-out-of-reach/ Fri, 20 Jul 2018 01:57:55 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=699 Read more]]> How do you quantify the impact of a poem not yet written or a song not yet performed?

Two years ago, I caught fire at one of the eight jobs I was working at the time. The scars from the second-degree burns on my hip are still slightly visible. I consider myself lucky.

But today, I’m still troubled by what could have been.

My injury happened on site at a catering event. It was 4:30 p.m.; I had been at work since 5:00 a.m. and was scheduled for another shift with another company at 5:30 p.m. Before the pain of my pants being literally on fire could even reach my brain, I was panicking about being able to make my second shift. If I called out, would they believe me? Would I jeopardize future shifts with them?

The second thread of my panic: Would I be able to perform in 24 hours? I had been preparing for the opening of a four-night run for months. How was I supposed to dance with the skin on my right hip burned off?

I missed my second catering shift but wound up performing the next night. It hurt but was fine. Somehow, my employer agreed without question to pay for all of my medical bills. It was easier for them (and probably for me) to process my receipts and cut me checks outside of the Workers Compensation Board than to slog through the system.


How was I supposed to dance with the skin on my right hip burned off?
Click To Tweet


Still, I began having conversations with legal assistants about whether this could be a viable workers’ comp case. When the tears stopped and the painkillers kicked in, I felt confident. I was a dancer. Who knew how this might affect my future projects? I luckily just caught the deadline to file a claim to the board within 30 days of the injury.

As it turned out, this probably wouldn’t have made a difference. I was naive, and so was the sympathetic legal assistant I spoke to for over an hour. Lawyers at multiple firms all agreed I had no case. If I could earn income otherwise, my employer owed me nothing. All of a sudden, having multiple skills was an obstacle, not an advantage. When I asked for compensation for the pain and suffering I experienced, they offered me $75 on the condition that I sign an agreement barring me from suing them in the future. By paying for my bills, they were paying me to shut up. My pain and suffering wasn’t worth a measly $75; my silence definitely wasn’t either.

Stories like mine are common because freelancers are everywhere. In 2017, the Freelancers Union and Upwork released the results of a comprehensive study on the independent workforce. They found that over a third of the U.S. workforce freelances (57.3 million people), bringing $1.4 trillion to the economy each year.

Today’s WeWork iteration of a freelancer has been filtered through Silicon Valley’s branding as someone who sips coffee in a co-working space while coding fancy things on their computer. But freelancers have and will continue to be people who also take care of and educate your children (Care.com), cook and serve your food (restaurants and catering), clean your homes (Task Rabbit), drive you around (Lyft, etc.), and do the temp work that offices don’t want to pay someone full-time to do. We are part of the grease that keeps the United States functioning.

It is no coincidence that many artists have found themselves freelancing. It can offer folks a reasonably steady (if seasonal) stream of income that can facilitate the time and headspace to create things. Nearly every artist I know refers to their side hustles as the income for the work they actually want to do. The gestational phases of an artist’s process often evolve unsupported by a direct paycheck or audience. Having one’s work recognized in the field requires this time, and it’s not surprising that so many artists choose and are well-suited for the gig economy lifestyle.

But under this guise of flexibility, employers are actually serving us disposability. My budding “reputation” as a 5-star cater waiter was super important to me in 2016—it brought me more and better shifts, better assignments on shifts, and kept me thinking I was on track to earn raises. Of course, when I asked for a raise I was told no; instead of giving me what I deserved, they could just find someone else to pass the same tray of hors d’oeuvres for less. In a capitalist economy, employers are going to trim wherever they can to pay workers less—lower salary and no benefits. As long as the work gets done, who cares if we can barely make ends meet or prepare for an emergency fund?


All of a sudden, having multiple skills was an obstacle, not an advantage.
Click To Tweet


Not only are artists often contributing to many sectors of the economy without adequate pay, we’re constantly justifying the value of our artistic work to everyone who makes a passing judgement. With direct earnings from babysitting or bartending, someone’s “value to society” is made tangible and obvious. But how do you quantify the impact of a poem not yet written or a song not yet performed?

With the federal budget allocating more than 3,600 times as much funding on the military as on the NEA, the United States’ per capita spending on the arts is miniscule compared to other wealthy nations. Again, artists’ participation in the gig economy is convenient for the economy and for artists. But working multiple jobs can only increase the likelihood of an injury, which, combined with the lack of a safety net protected by law, can be devastating, not just for an individual but for the loss to society of art that wasn’t made.

I spoke to Elisa Clark, a former dancer with Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater who has been navigating the New York State Workers’ Compensation Board since getting ankle surgery in 2017. Even though she was an employee of one of the largest dance organizations in the United States, she has still struggled to get the treatment she needs. Her lawyer told her, “The system is designed to wear you out. Most people just give up because it’s a headache. But stay persistent.”

When seeking treatment, the Board has a 30-day window to respond to a claim. “From my perspective, it seemed that Workers Compensation was more focused on finding reasons to deny treatment, rather than help injured workers get back to work,” said Clark. In one instance, the doctor’s notes were deemed insufficient. In another, they just never replied. “It seems like if you have a claim, you are bound by the rules, but the Board doesn’t seem to follow the rules that apply to their response.”

For Many Freelance Writers, Food Stamps Are The Only Way To Get By

As of May 2018, she was still waiting on authorization for further exams. While her recovering ankle may meet the legal requirements for mobility, it certainly wasn’t mobile enough for a full return to the kind of dance work she was performing, and was continuing to get offers for while on the mend. At each visit, her doctor had to measure her disability as a percentage, quantifying an experience that is always relative to the body at hand.

Beyond being a dancer requiring a greater range of motion than the average person, Clark said, “As a person, I can’t do things equally. We as dancers know that any significant imbalance can cause a chain reaction of additional injuries and/or long-term physical issues.” But the law’s consideration of disability doesn’t seem to take into account this inevitable future.

Even athletes, people whose virtuosic able-bodiedness are central to their work and are recognized by society at large, don’t seem to have it much easier. In 2014, the NFL won a legal battle that barred most pro players from filing workers comp in California. The NCAA conceived the term “student athlete” to skirt workers comp obligations for the players that bring in billions but receive none of it. Cirque du Soleil has had performers become injured or even die because of their work, and here too, workers comp support has been capped by state laws. The advent of the workers’ comp industrial complex mirrors other systems that have grown out of an economic system (see the military, prison, medical industrial complexes) where workers’ rights have been steadily eroded in favor of corporate profits.

Let’s not have these glitzy displays of physical ability erase the fact that all work is embodied. Crunching numbers, sketching on a notepad, and editing film all engage our bodies in some way or another. What separates an injured freelance artist from a salaried worker is that the system at hand fails independent contractors at large and erases the specific nature of an artist’s work from consideration in the medical care provided. That a body can be contorted to do something else that generates income exploits the versatility of freelance artists and further negates our creative work. Rarely do artists generate the entirety of their income from their work, but that doesn’t make the art less integral to the communities it reaches. What makes a rich arts culture isn’t just the hyper-successful celebrities. It’s a society that supports artists at every stage of their career and takes full care of its artists when injuries arise.

So how’s a multi-skilled freelancer supposed to navigate the system designed to exploit us with its inconsistent red tape?

Clark suggests organization as a strong defense: “Saving all my receipts, doctor’s notes, pay stubs, etc, to show exactly how much I earned during the time following surgery. It seems that the more organized I was with the facts, the less the ‘system’ could argue with me.”

You could also demand a contract. The “Freelance isn’t Free Law” that passed in NYC in 2017 only protects workers earning over $800 in a 4-month period. Still, asking to sign a contract with an employer for any project can facilitate self-advocacy, clarifying terms for all parties involved on not only benefits but timely compensation.

The artists-service organization Fractured Atlas suggests that most insurers won’t support workers comp for project-based, temporary work. So the responsibility ultimately falls on freelancers to advocate for this support in contracts because employers are unlikely to want to front the costs.

The Actors Fund offers the kind of collective safety net for artists that should be required by law. Beyond careful recordkeeping, contracts, and the support of organizations, are there possibilities for the kind of union that are starting to re-surge among pro athletes?


That a body can be contorted to do something else that generates income exploits the versatility of freelance artists.
Click To Tweet


With artists, our networks are so interwoven, the possibilities for organizing could be easier in some respect. A big part of being an artist is consuming and participating in the work of our peers, resulting in many tight pockets of communities. But with so much work happening off books, and work in temp industries being seen as so replaceable, it’s easy to feel demoralized about our collective power.

But this also happens if we zoom in too tightly on artists alone, who statistically tend to come from more privileged backgrounds in order to bear the risks intrinsic to this lifestyle. When considering the broader workforce that comprises the gig economy and the shadow economy, it’s of no surprise that most workers are of color and many are immigrants, who face further systemic challenges to getting care in event of an injury. It’s important to acknowledge the difference between those who willfully participate in the gig economy to make room for their art and those whose primary viable options are boxed in by the shadow economy. It’s easy to imagine all the people who don’t have the means to even be considered for entry into the exclusive world of sanctified art.

But we need to imagine what this world could look like. Recognizing the intersectionality for artists of color, immigrants artists, disabled artists can uplift not only our artist work but our collective possibilities for organizing in a system where workers and consumers both lose. The food-deliverer protests in the UK and Australia can provide some examples here. If we imagine how many of those workers are also artists, how many of the workers around us all the time are also artists, it becomes harder not to sense how artists are everywhere all the time, trying to get through the day so that they can make their work.

No one’s going to pay us to organize, but to protect the longevity of our bodies and all of the work we contribute, it’s another hustle that deserves our attention.

]]>
I’m Done With The Faux-Woke Exploitation Of Marginalized Writers https://theestablishment.co/im-done-with-the-faux-woke-exploitation-of-marginalized-writers-b19d9efc9eba/ Fri, 15 Dec 2017 00:04:12 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=2811 Read more]]>

While a person’s identity is important to their understanding of the world, it does not define who they are.

“Would you be interested in writing a personal story about dating and disfigurement?” An editor at a well-known women’s fashion magazine asked me in an email. “We’re interested in the ways dating with disfigurement makes you feel unattractive, and how you cope with the challenges of trying to find a partner.” I had emailed the woman to pitch a feel-good article about creative date night activities, and this was the response I received.

I have Crouzon syndrome — a rare craniofacial condition where the bones in the head fuse prematurely. My face is disfigured, yes, but I do not believe myself to be unattractive. Neither does my boyfriend — a man I’ve been in a loving, committed relationship with for nearly three years. I reread the woman’s email once more to be sure I hadn’t missed something — to be sure I hadn’t somehow provoked her comment. Then I stared blankly at the screen, too appalled to form a reply that wasn’t riddled with expletives. Had this woman really asked me to write an article about how it feels to be too “unattractive” to date? Perhaps this is naivety talking, but I believed a magazine targeting women and teenage girls would be aimed at building confidence and empowering women to be strong and comfortable in their own skin — to celebrate beauty in whatever form it came. Instead, the editor reinforced the harmful societal belief I’ve spent my whole life silencing: that I am my physical appearance.

As a writer, it is my job to write about my disfigurement, to break it down in small, manageable, bite-sized chunks of information for individuals without craniofacial differences to understand. I do this to eliminate the stigma of disfigurement. I also do it because the stories in which I talk about my physical differences are often times the only pitches editors accept. Whether I write an article with a news peg, or a separate reported piece about issues unrelated to my physical appearance, I am more often than not asked to change the angle to write about myself, or it won’t be accepted. Either that, or the angle is changed after I sign a contract, and without my prior knowledge or consent.

While it’s great that news outlets and publications are publishing more marginalized voices and telling diverse stories, to be pigeonholed into only writing about one thing is both frustrating and harmful. We are more than one aspect of our identity.

To be pigeonholed into only writing about one thing is both frustrating and harmful.

The lack of diverse perspectives in articles, news, and media is a disservice to the general population. While a person’s identity is important to their understanding of the world, it does not define who they are. To better understand the world, we need to hear unique voices and perspectives. Pigeonholing writers and pigeonholing people means we lose out on the perspectives of marginalized people on important issues and topics, because they’re only ever commissioned to write about their identity explicitly.

This phenomenon has been experienced by women and minorities alike. Alaina Leary, a queer, disabled editor and writer knows this firsthand. “Editors have no doubt asked me to spell out my disabilities even in pieces that are not supposed to be related to disability, most likely to seem woke,” Leary told me. But like many marginalized writers who are used to being defined by one element of who their identity, Leary, who often pitches a wide range of both disability and non-disability related topics, appreciates when she’s able to write about topics without her identity coming into play.

Why Should You Become An Establishment Member For $5 A Month?

“One of the best examples comes from The Rumpus, which put out a call for disabled writers but did NOT require my story to have anything to do with disability. I loved that. They were clearly interested in having more disabled voices but not in boxing us into the ‘typical’ disability stories, or even to writing about disability at all. My piece had absolutely nothing to do with my disability and never even mentioned it; it was all about my dad. My editor never once asked me about my disability,” she said.

Still, too many publications fail to recognize the importance of celebrating diversity, and ultimately cross the line into being exploitative. “There’s been at least a couple instances where I was the only LGBTQ writer on staff at a publication and I would get assigned every single LGBTQ-related story, even those I didn’t feel I should be writing, and I was never assigned other topics because I was the only person they felt ‘could’ cover LGBTQ topics. It was nice that they didn’t want to assign these things to straight cis people, since that’s what many publications do, but I felt really pigeonholed,” Leary said.

The fact that writers are being pigeonholed can at least in part be attributed to the overall lack of diversity in publishing. A 2015 study on diversity in publishing by Lee & Low Books looked at data from eight review journals and 34 publishers in North America. Data revealed something that most in the industry wouldn’t find too surprising: The publishing industry isn’t that diverse. According to the study’s results, 79% of people in the industry are white; 78% are cis-women; 88% are heterosexual; and 92% are nondisabled. Data from editorial departments weren’t much better. Eighty-two percent of editorial staff is white; 84% are cis-women; 86% are heterosexual; and 92% are without any kind of disability.

Too many publications fail to recognize the importance of celebrating diversity, and ultimately cross the line into being exploitative.

This lack of diversity affects which stories get written and by whom. While it’s great that the internet and mainstream media have worked to amplify the voices of those who desperately need to be heard, they’ve also begun to stereotype many of us — limiting our identities as people and our work as writers to only one aspect of who we are. Diversity in newsrooms and in publishing houses (and even in universities) would normalize the presence and the perspectives of underrepresented identities. Increased diversity would help people to understand that pigeonholing limits both the knowledge and the cultural and identity perspective that could otherwise be shared.

On one hand, marginalized groups deal with inaccurate representation. On the other hand, when we do write about our own stories to highlight larger cultural and societal issues, we often become labeled and the scope of our work becomes limited.

To make matters worse, we’re often expected to work for almost no money. Many well-known publications — including several that work primarily with marginalized writers — pay just $50 for pieces over 1,000 words. “Freelance isn’t free, and it’s ridiculous that a media juggernaut like Condé Nast repeatedly accepts stories and then ghosts writers, never to publish their work or pay them for services rendered. And when these writers are paid, it is often pennies to the dollar when compared to non-marginalized writers,” Alexis Dent wrote in her article “Is Conde Nast Exploiting Marginalized Writers?” Dent’s article includes screenshots from numerous marginalized writers who were taken advantage by large publications who could’ve easily afforded to pay them.

Why Isn’t ‘Ebony’ Paying Its Black Writers?

“It’s offensive that marginalized writers are being treated so horribly. What’s the point of being #woke if you’re actually still contributing to an environment that puts POC, queer, and nonbinary people down?” Dent wrote.

Still, for many marginalized writers, financial need outweighs the frustration. In a report from the Center for Media Literacy, Carlos Cort wrote the following:

“In recent years minorities have achieved a long overdue media presence. But crucial issues of portrayal and participation remain to be resolved. And once inside the door, problems continue — personal isolation, difficulty in entering upper-level management, lack of influence, career hazards. Minority journalists often face the dilemma of balancing their social commitment to provide better coverage of minority communities against their fears of being ‘ghettoized’ to the ‘minority beat’ and thereby having their professional careers restricted. Minority actors find themselves caught between the need to find roles in which they can hone their craft and earn a living, and the recognition that many of these roles may contribute to public negative stereotyping.”

Freelancers often can’t afford to speak up, for fear of being blacklisted by other outlets. I am one of these writers. But though I write about my physical appearance, medical condition, and occasionally dating, I will never write about myself or anyone else as being too “unattractive” to find love. I don’t care what byline it costs me.

Though magazines and editors may try to tell some of us that we do not fit their mold, I will not conform to anyone’s small-minded definition of beauty. I will not limit my myself or my work. I will proudly take up space and write the stories I believe in, because my disfigurement does not, and will not, define me.

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]]> For Many Freelance Writers, Food Stamps Are The Only Way To Get By https://theestablishment.co/for-many-freelance-writers-food-stamps-are-the-only-way-to-get-by-a34542bf58e8/ Wed, 29 Nov 2017 23:05:06 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=2869 Read more]]>

In the current media climate, writers often must rely on government assistance.

Wikimedia Commons

Erica Langston went on food stamps after finishing a yearlong teaching fellowship in spring 2014. Twenty hours a week working at a ranch — and 15 hours writing — couldn’t pay the bills for the full-time grad student. Langston, a freelance journalist who was previously a fellow at Audubon and Mother Jones, says she couldn’t have focused on writing without government assistance.

“That upsets a lot of people,” she tells me. “The ability for me to step back and say, ‘I’m going to focus on writing. I’m going to continue to pursue writing.’ I don’t know that I would have been able to do that without food stamps.”

Until fall 2015, Langston was among the handful of freelance writers across the country relying on the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). While statistics on writers specifically are hard to find, an estimated 12% of freelancers in the Freelancers Union, a national labor organization, used public assistance in 2010. Langston, meanwhile, estimates that a quarter of writers in her circle have used or applied for SNAP.

And these numbers don’t even fully reveal the extent of the situation. Some freelancers are eligible for food stamps, but don’t use the benefits. Others are just a few steps away from qualifying.

The need for public assistance reveals how society fails to value professional writers and their economic struggles. As outlets ask freelancers to write for cheap or free and struggle to pay them on time, some are forced to turn to SNAP to get by.

Why Isn’t ‘Ebony’ Paying Its Black Writers?

Many factors fuel freelancers’ financial burden. The internet offers a glut of writing gigs but a dearth of good pay. Reporting on fields like human rights remains underfunded. Income is inconsistent. The “golden age for freelancing” in the 1990s has faded.

Nickel and Dimed author Barbara Ehrenreich saw her rates at one major publication drop by a third between 2004 and 2009. To boot, some outlets spend little on writers relative to their profits. According to Scott Carney, author of the Quick and Dirty Guide to Freelance Writing, the lucrative media conglomerate Condé Nast spends just .6% of its revenue on writers.

The fault lies with readers, too, who have come to expect access to news sites sans paywalls, essentially demanding that writers perform free labor for their enjoyment and edification.

Under such conditions, it’s little wonder that — according to a 2016 Contently survey — 35% of full-time freelancers make less than $20,000 a year.

Why Should You Become An Establishment Member For $5 A Month?

And it’s not just that wages are low; at the same time, living costs are increasing rapidly. According to a recent report, more than 21 million Americans, a record number, spent a staggering third or more of their income on rent in 2014.

To take but one example of how these forces manifest for freelance journalists, Ryan McCready estimated on Venngage that a writer making $0.25 a word would have to write 13,340 words in a month — about the length of Macbeth — to live in Portland.

Troublingly, this paradigm in turn keeps marginalized people from being able to become freelance writers in the first place. Langston sees being able to live paycheck to paycheck and pursue her passion of writing as a privilege; she has a graduate degree and a partner to fall back on during tough months. Not everyone enjoys such luxuries.

As outlets ask freelancers to write for cheap or free and struggle to pay them on time, some are forced to turn to SNAP to get by.

In a cruel bit of irony, even stories about poverty are often written by the financially privileged—it turns out those in poverty are too poor to write about being poor. This not only pushes out perspectives that may have not been considered, it can drive away readers who assume the news is elitist.

In an article for the Guardian, Ehrenrich wrote:

“In the last few years, I’ve gotten to know a number of people who are at least as qualified writers as I am, especially when it comes to the subject of poverty, but who’ve been held back by their own poverty . . .

There are many thousands of . . . gifted journalists who want to address serious social issues but cannot afford to do so in a media environment that thrives by refusing to pay, or anywhere near adequately pay, its ‘content providers.’”

Veteran journalist Darryl Lorenzo Wellington, who worked as a parking lot attendant before reviewing books for the Washington Post for a decade, has seen firsthand how publishing shuts its doors on the under-privileged. He goes to writers’ conferences, he says, where he’s asked where he got his master’s degree; he has just a high school diploma. Magazine editors ask him to put $3,000 or $4,000 in reporting expenses on his credit card, so they can reimburse him — but he doesn’t have a credit card. Recently, a colleague asked him to Skype; he couldn’t drop $200 to fix his broken computer, so he asked her if they could talk on the phone instead. She almost seemed insulted, he notes. “And ironically, that person wanted to do a story about poverty.”

Another downside to low-paid freelance writing is that many are pushed away from crucial reporting because they can’t financially justify the work.

Veteran investigative journalist Christopher D. Cook says he started mixing contract writing with editing and teaching to get by. This diverse income keeps him off the food stamps he once relied upon — but it also means he’s unable to do as much investigative work as he once did.

“That’s a terrible position for society to be in, where it’s not economically feasible to have investigative reporting,” says Cook. “It’s central to our society and our democracy to have people be able to survive as journalists.”

When Predators Exploit Freelance Writers

It looks like this issue will only become more dire in the coming years; as experts expect half of the U.S. workforce to freelance in some capacity by 2020, the Trump budget plans to cut SNAP by $190 billion over the next decade.

So what can be done to support writers and their work?

Carney thinks that freelancers could do more to advocate for themselves, to negotiate a fair, well-paying contract once their story’s accepted. After going without health insurance for a decade, and at times having $12 in his bank account, he says valuing his own work helped him reach middle class.

“The world isn’t essentially fair. You get more if you fight for more,” he says. “If freelancers are willing to sell themselves for pennies on the dollar, then magazines are happy to take advantage of that.”

I’m Too Busy Being Poor To Be Creative

But of course, real progress can’t happen without changes to the system itself. Some suggest safety nets like guaranteed health-care coverage, a universal pension, and more grants for struggling freelancers. Currently, PEN America is among the few groups that offer emergency funding to writers.

Others say freelancers should unionize, or online outlets should experiment more with new revenue streams to have money to pay their writers more.

Workers’ rights attorney Paula Brantner adds that freelancers should be able to file wage claims, like employees. They should have a remedy beyond suing in small claims court if they aren’t paid for the work they do.

And Wellington thinks the government should offer everyone who makes, say, $25,000 or less annually a food allowance.

At the same time, we need to talk more candidly about the financial realities of freelance writing, and work toward the crucial de-stigmatization of poverty.

We need to talk more candidly about the financial realities of freelance writing.

For freelancers like Erica Langston, food stamps aren’t part of a lifetime of poverty, and due to lingering societal stigmas, it can be tempting to try to create distance from the chronically impoverished. This reveals a deep-seated classism that holds both the publishing industry and society back.

In 2015, Langston tried to use her electronic benefit transfer card at the grocery store, but the company had just changed the system, and the clerk had to put it in manually.

“I felt so uncomfortable in that moment. I was holding up the line. I handed over my food stamp card. I don’t know if anyone noticed. I don’t know if anyone gave a shit. But I had this internalized feeling that I was being judged because of that. And I even felt guilty because I wanted to explain in that moment, ‘No, no, you don’t understand. This is just temporary . . . ’

The fact that I would feel the need to explain that says a lot about the system in general. I mean, it’s temporary for me, but it’s not temporary for some people, right?”

Langston is one of many freelance writers who remain a step away from struggling to put dinner on the table. Others already can’t feed themselves. As the gig economy rises and government assistance wanes, will companies find a way to meet independent contractors’ basic needs?

And more importantly, what will happen to media if they don’t?

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