By T. J. Anthony Lee

A bell jingles as I open the glass door to enter a LA Koreatown restaurant.

Immediately, a hot wind filled with pungent smells hits my nose. My stomach growls in response as memories associated with each smell come to my attention. They are the smells of birthdays, of church functions, of Korean food. I sit at a small wooden table as I glance through the menu, looking for that which would satisfy my hunger and give me comfort through the memory associated with it.

Several middle-aged Korean women, all wearing matching aprons and smiles, weave effortlessly through the tables, dishing out bubbling pots and silver bowls of rice. These women each have a story. Some are mothers; some are poor; some arrived at LAX a few months ago; some are single.

Mrs. Lee, a small, thirty-something mother, is one of the thousands of silent, invisible workers who have emerged from brutal working conditions to make her voice heard.

"When I talk about other things, I don’t have much to say," she begins. “But when I talk about the restaurants, there is just too much to talk about."

Mrs. Lee immigrated to America six years ago. In Korea, her husband worked as a computer programmer and she as a bank teller. Work was not a necessity for Mrs. Lee. Rather, she just liked her job and had worked there since she graduated high school. Combined, their incomes were more than enough to own a house and an office building. The couple even had enough income to invest in a building.

But then their investment failed and they lost some of what they owned. At the same time, Mrs. Lee’s husband was not promoted in his company because he did not have a doctorate degree. These factors made Mrs. Lee and her husband feel the need to start their lives over again. So with their two young children and $100,000 in savings, the Lee family left the safety of Korea for a brighter future in America.

Like so many immigrants before them, the Lee family came with their hopes, dreams and an idealistic view of America.

Believing their savings were sufficient, they lived in a modest apartment near Westwood in Los Angeles. Both Mrs. Lee and her husband hoped to attend school. At first, however, only her husband went to school while she stayed home, taking care of their children. Unaware of the high rent, Mrs. Lee let her husband take care of their finances. And one day to her shock there was no money left in their bank account. Reality hit her hard. She would have to look for a job.

For a Korean immigrant woman who did not speak any English, Koreatown was the only place she could go for work. But they were flat broke. There was not even enough gas in the car to get her there. So using her resources as a housewife, Mrs. Lee took all of the change she had collected from going to the market. With that, she went to the gas station and got just enough gas to get her to Koreatown and back. That was when she began working as a waitress.

The life of a waitress is difficult. Being on your feet for eight hours straight is hard enough. Add to that carrying hot dishes, dealing with drunk customers, and maintaining your composure. In comparison to "American" restaurants, however, working for a Korean restaurant is much more demanding.

Women there work 12 to 15 hours a day and only earn $1000 a month, including tips. And many, like Mrs. Lee, are recent immigrants and cannot afford looking for a job. They need money fast to pay next month’s rent.

For three years, Mrs. Lee lived this lifestyle. Working seven days a week, 15 hours a day, she was unable to witness her young children grow up. Every night she would come home at midnight, turn on the shower, and weep, rinsing out the ingrained smell of food while releasing her daily burdens.

Her only contact with her children consisted of watching them sleep and sending them off to school in the morning.

In time, the long hours and stressful working conditions caused a rift in her relationship with her husband. They would fight, but only when the children were not looking. "I took our big immigration bag and put my husband’s clothes in and took it out, put it in and took it out a number of times." It was inevitable that her oldest child, who was six at the time, began to notice. He bit his nails halfway off because of the stress.

In addition to emotional strain, Mrs. Lee’s job also took a physical toll on her life. On two occasions, her hand was severely burned. The first time, the skin between her fingers fused together and it was difficult to separate them. Her hand was then burned again, but this time, it swelled and inflated like a balloon. This was not a rare occurrence. Mrs. Lee recounted the story of another restaurant worker who was burned when soup spilled on her feet. Because she had to keep working, she continued to wear shoes and socks and did not let her feet heal completely. Today, this worker’s feet are still scarred and misshapen.

Mrs. Lee also experienced internal physical trauma. For several months, she exhibited physical ailments that seemed out of the ordinary. She spoke with her co-workers and since they too experienced the same symptoms, she thought nothing of it. Her co-workers then began visiting gynecologists and she decided to do the same just to be safe. She was informed that she was pregnant, but that the baby had died and she was only carrying its remains. She had to undergo surgery that very day to remove the baby. Mrs. Lee had no money to pay for the surgery, but because of the extreme urgency of her case, the doctor performed the operation for free.

All of these stories are not unusual for the lives of immigrant restaurant workers. Mrs. Lee also endured misshapen fingers and hurt backs from working in unsafe conditions. A crippling back injury, due to the restaurant’s slippery kitchen floor, prevented her from working for one and a half years. It was this injury, however, that eventually led to her partnership with the Korean Immigrant Workers Advocates (KIWA) based at 8th Street and Hobart Avenue in the heart of Koreatown.

At a KIWA labor law seminar held the year before, Mrs. Lee was introduced to the organization and also to the concept of American labor laws. There she learned about minimum wage, labor regulations, and worker’s compensation.

That seminar came to her memory when she was unable to pay for treatment for her injured back. She went to the restaurant where she used to work and asked her former employer to compensate her for her injury. The owner did not have insurance, however, and could not afford to pay for her treatment. He offered her $1,000 to simply forget about the incident.

Angered by her employer’s indifference, Mrs. Lee demanded to get paid for the time she could not work. He offered her an additional $600, but that was not enough for Mrs. Lee and her family to live on. She protested, but her employer simply said, "I have someone who can start work tomorrow. Just go."

KIWA was Mrs. Lee’s last hope. She turned to the 10-year-old labor advocacy group to receive treatment for her injury. But as far as her wages were concerned, Mrs. Lee could only wait for the government to intervene. It would be five to seven years before she saw any of the money she was due. So Mrs. Lee visited the KIWA office often to check on the status of her pending case.

Soon, she began to see other restaurant workers and hear their complaints. KIWA people realized the importance of her first-hand experience as a restaurant worker, and asked her to join the staff for three months as a part-time organizer. Initially, Mrs. Lee refused because she would receive only half the pay she would in a restaurant.
But looking back on the previous four years of her life in America, she realized that she missed out on raising her children. So she accepted the position and began working part-time at KIWA, not to save the world, but to take some time to rest and raise her children.

After the initial three months passed, everyday, she would leave the office no earlier than five or six o’clock, even though she was officially off the clock at two in the afternoon. "Even though this [restaurant workers] campaign is going on, the restaurant cases don’t decrease. There’s always a lot. But if it’s something I can do, I should do it." So KIWA asked her to stay as a full-time organizer for three more months and she agreed.

Today, Mrs. Lee is still a part of KIWA. Every day, restaurant workers come to the office with their stories and complaints. Mrs. Lee listens to their cases and works to resolve them. She also meets with workers on weekends to educate and organize them.

And while she is often pointed at on the street and even harassed by phone at home, Mrs. Lee continues to use her experience as a restaurant worker to improve the condition of workers, both Korean and Latino, in LA Koreatown. Because of the injustice she experienced, Mrs. Lee works to make her voice heard.

But these stories are not just hers. They are the stories of the hundreds of silent, exploited men and women working to provide us with a hot Korean meal. Fortunately, these wretched workers have at last found an advocate and a voice in Mrs. Lee and KIWA.

T. J. Anthony Lee is a UCLA student majoring in Asian American Studies and Political Science.