Urbanization, we may conclude, has played a crucial role in the absorption of capital surpluses, at ever-increasing geographical scales, but at the price of burgeoning processes of creative destruction that have dispossessed the masses of any right to the city whatsoever….The urban and peri-urban social movements of opposition, of which there are many around the world, are not tightly coupled; indeed most have no connection to each other. If they somehow did come together, what should they demand? The answer…is simple enough in principle: greater democratic control over the production and utilization of the surplus.
David Harvey, 2008: “Right to the City”
This week, I attended a conference entitled “Material and residential vulnerability among workers of the domestic sector: lack of resources and absence of privacy.” Here, researchers and NGO leaders convened to speak about the series of compounding, intersectional variables rendering domestic workers susceptible to houselessness. To give context, Elena Martinez of Provivienda shared that, on average, Madrilenos are now contributing about 30% of their income to housing, a number well above the ratio wherein one would be considered at risk of losing their home. Furthermore, a record 25% are renting property – those who rent are disproportionately foreign, working-class, or racialized. Even so, the renters market is where discrimination becomes clearest. Martinez mentioned that in her research, 7 out of 10 migrant domestic workers surveyed reported denial by landlords on the basis of their employment sector and national origin. Further, though 71% of public housing applicants are foreign, only 25% of subsidized units are actually granted to foreigners due to arraigo laws that establish prerequisites for residency permits.
Lack of access to the rental market is especially treacherous for internadas or live-in domestic workers. Becoming a live-in worker is an attractive option for the undocumented looking to live under the administrative radar or those hoping to save money for remittances. These women often suffer from a complete lack of intimate and physical privacy, but losing their job would mean losing their shelter; without an exit strategy, they are entirely at the mercy of their employer.
Finally, those who do manage to find independent housing are generally relegated to neighborhoods with crumbling infrastructure. Social and healthcare services in these areas also become saturated with demand, leading to long wait times and miles of red tape to acquire so much as a doctor’s appointment. The lack of public space in these spatially segregated neighborhoods deprives the tenants right to the city as well. This, along with the frequency of displacement, makes it difficult to cultivate the social network that is so integral to the survival of migrant domestic workers. In other words, when you are forced to move so often, you break bonds with the neighbors and mutual aid networks you could have relied upon.
The conference concluded with panelists discussing the role of NGOs and the state in addressing migrant domestic workers’ right to the city. Though some insisted on state intervention and market adjustments, others did not have faith that the Spanish for-profit housing system could overcome its own structural barriers. They proposed a focus on network-weaving and education among migrant domestic workers. Still others alleged that a mere brochure or webpage listing housing resources would not do much for a population without access to the digital “Smart City.” Social capital alone was the greatest resource one could have and would be built physically through community organizations (like SEDOAC) or digitally through platforms such as Whatsapp and Facebook (where anonymity and altruism have yielded material and psychological benefits for users). This discourse expanded my understanding of migrant domestic workers as an urban polity fighting for the right to Madrid.
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