We are family: Women's labor mobilization and gender norms in Turkey

Women's Studies International Forum 72 (2019) 9–16

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We are family: Women's labor mobilization and gender norms in Turkey a,⁎

Pelin Kılınçarslan , Özlem Altan-Olcay a b

T

b

Political Science and International Relations, Department of International Relations, Koç University, Istanbul, Turkey Department of International Relations, Koç University, Istanbul, Turkey

A R T I C LE I N FO

A B S T R A C T

Keywords: Family Gender Resistance Gender norms Shopfloor Turkey

This paper studies factory regimes and women workers' self-identifications in two textile factories in Turkey. Based on interviews with women workers, managers, and local union leaders, it traces the circulation of metaphors of family inside the plants. We explore three interrelated uses of the family metaphor: as a boundary between insiders and outsiders; as an extension of household care relations; and as an equivocal container of grievances. We show these metaphors stem from women's own experiences at the intersections of gender, kinship, ethnicity and community ties, as well as the relative ability of the management to control discursive processes. We argue that it is important to pay attention to these everyday processes through which family gains multiple meanings because these become conduits of gender norms, opening up or closing off complex possibilities for worker resistance and/or compliance.

Introduction This study explores the production and circulation of family metaphors on the shop floors of two-textile-producing companies in Turkey. Based on interviews with women workers, who make up the majority of the workforce, managers and union representatives, we investigate the following questions: How do the intersections of gender, kinship, ethnicity and community inform the emergence of family metaphors on the shop floor? How do these metaphors crystallize women's selfidentifications as workers and family members? What do they imply for gendered processes of factory work, resistance and potential for change? In this article, we trace the ways in which unequal and diverse actors interact on the shop floor, informed by sociopolitical structures and norms beyond the factory gates, to produce diverse and ambiguous discourses of family. We use this as a vantage point to understand how women make sense of, challenge and/or reproduce the conditions of their labor. Feminist scholarship shows that women are not passive subjects of patriarchal arrangements but draw on gendered resources, including claims around family and motherhood, to resist and influence economic and political structures (Lee, 1998; Ngai, 2005; Nixon, 2009; Ong, 1987; Salzinger, 2003). We aim to contribute to this literature by exploring workers' agencies, situated within unequal power relations with factory management and broader political economic contexts, through their narratives of family. We argue that there is not one, but multiple definitions of family that circulate on shop floors. We open up this

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diversity in three simultaneous usages: how familial discourses identify the boundaries of group membership, interpret work relations in terms of altruism and care, and become an ambiguous container for grievances. Overall, we contend that these everyday processes through which the family gains multiple meanings are important for two reasons: Not only do they become conduits of gender norms that open up or close off complex possibilities for worker resistance and/or compliance but they reveal sharply the latter's gendered nature. We show that these discourses emerge out of the centrality of the family to workers' lives, hiring practices within the sector and hegemonic norms. When workers are successful in producing familial expectations in the workplace, this becomes a resource for building solidarity. When management participates and takes the upper hand in portraying the company as a family through its hiring, promotion and labor control practices, loyalties are fractured toward older ‘brothers’, ‘mothers’ and ‘patriarchs’ in the workplace hierarchy. Neither process is stable, however: as workers and managers draw on existing cultural repertoires, they produce constantly changing definitions of what a family entails. Studying these processes in Turkey can offer a new perspective. First, Turkey is a middle-income country, whose turn towards neoliberalism in the 1980s reflects global experiences of economic deregulation, political repression and growing inequalities. Focusing on how women workers react to their precariousness enhances our understanding of mobilizations elsewhere. Second, unlike other export-oriented developing economies, women's labor force participation in

Corresponding author. E-mail addresses: [email protected] (P. Kılınçarslan), [email protected] (Ö. Altan-Olcay).

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.wsif.2018.11.003 Received 22 June 2018; Received in revised form 1 October 2018; Accepted 5 November 2018 0277-5395/ © 2018 Published by Elsevier Ltd.

Women's Studies International Forum 72 (2019) 9–16

P. Kılınçarslan, Ö. Altan-Olcay

In the following sections, we first review the debates over exportoriented production and women's labor force participation and activism. We then discuss the interaction of cultural practices and political economic conditions in Turkey. Finally, we explore the refractions in the family metaphor, as it marks boundaries of membership, redefines exploitative work in terms of altruism and care, and ambivalently seals off discussions of inequalities and grievances.

Turkey has remained much lower than other similar-sized economies. Studying women's workplace strategies in a setting where the jobs available to them remain restricted despite economic growth can crystallize both their creativity and the risks of resistance. Finally, given that Turkey's struggle between advocates of ‘Western’ and ‘Eastern’ cultural practices has taken place largely over gender norms, this paper explores how cultural practices interact with political economy. By cultural practices, we do not necessarily mean a stabilized, timeless set of norms that impact individual experience and identity in monolithic ways. On the contrary, we aim to discuss these dynamic and complex relations while seeking to understand possibilities for different outcomes. This study is based on interviews conducted in 2012 with local union leaders, the women workers and the managers of two textile factories, which we call Mobitex and Cyntex, both located in the same organized industrial zone in İzmir, Turkey. At the time of the research, both factories produced exclusively for the international market, working with international brand-name companies. They were similar in terms of their size, position in the production chain and clients. They also reflected other multinational factories in Turkey in their preference for migrant women workers. Workers complained about long working hours, short breaks, forced overtime, restricted use of restrooms, and insufficient health and safety measures – all of which were management strategies to maximize productivity. Other problems included restrictions on communication among workers during work hours, humiliating treatment and harassment by middle management, and hostility toward collective organization and union activity. What was striking was that while Mobitex workers successfully unionized to resist these exploitative conditions, Cyntex workers did not. The original intention of the research was to understand the mechanisms that enabled the workers in Mobitex, but not Cyntex, to collectively organize at that time. One of the authors conducted 24 semistructured interviews with the workers, who lived in close neighborhoods. We chose to focus on the experiences of women in the factories, specifically, because our objective was to explore how women become workers, compliant or resistant, at the intersection of gender norms, outside the factory gates and shop floor regimes, inside. Most of our interviewees were married with one or two children. Their ages, ranged from 25 to 40, which reflected the demographic make-up of such factories. We used snowballing techniques to reach people while aiming to capture the diversity of shop-floor assignments. The tape-recorded interviews with Mobitex workers took place in the union building or their homes whereas the interviews with Cyntex workers were held in their homes or cafés away from the industrial zone. The latter group mostly preferred the interviewer to take handwritten notes rather than tape record the interview. Interviews with the two human resources managers took place in their offices. There were also informal conversations with workers, held during commutes or in their homes. Additionally, we met with several union representatives and the head of the local textile union, conducting four interviews with them. Finally, limited observation was conducted in Mobitex with the consent of the human resources manager. During data collection, however, it became evident that the predicted dichotomy of mobilization versus its absence was not clear-cut. Even when workers appeared compliant, they used multiple footdragging methods under the management's radar. Workers' attempts to resist, including activities that ended up in collective mobilization, were not clear-cut processes, but always involved insecurities, backtracking and ambivalences around loyalties. Consequently, neither compliance nor resistance were stable realities for the workers. During the conversations and interviews, something else became visible, however: the interviewees' narratives about their lives in the factories relied heavily on familial metaphors, whose meanings shifted throughout the conversations. Thus, our research was transformed into tracing these metaphors and their implications for women's acts of resistance and compliance.

Gender norms, factory regimes and possibilities for worker activism Early feminist studies have argued that transnational capital prefers to hire young women in export-oriented factories with the expectation that they will be more docile and have certain “natural” skills and “nimble” fingers (Collins, 2002; Elson & Pearson, 1981). Accordingly, multinationals have operated in tandem with existing patriarchal cultural practices (Chapkis & Enloe, 1983; Hartmann, 1979) to discipline women's labor and double their oppression (Fuentes & Ehrenreich, 1983). However, these processes have never meant that women are hapless victims, acted upon but never acting. Scholarship also has demonstrated how women develop collective and individual strategies in the face of heterogeneous forms of domination, using the resources available to them (Jenkins, 2012; Lee, 1998; Ngai, 2005; Ong, 1987; Salzinger, 2003). Scholars of women's activism, for instance, have explored the role that community ties and discourses of family and motherhood play in facilitating collective action (Göker, 2011; Krauss, 1993; MacEwen-Scott, 2005). Accordingly, familial ties and shared experiences of motherhood can become powerful tropes through which women challenge norms of domesticity and domestic hierarchies, thereby transforming patriarchal expectations (Ghasemi, 2015; Zare, 2014). On the other hand, we should not underestimate the integral links between acts of resistance and broader relations of inequality and domination (Bair, 2010, 205). Hegemonic norms around family and family honor can also be powerful mechanisms through which women are controlled, undermining women's activism to seek rights and gender equality (Fisher-Onar & Müftüler-Baç, 2011; Othman, 2006; Stivens, 2006). Thus, we argue that we need to study the multiplicity of family discourses in the same context to explore possibilities for resistance and compliance. We argue that the intersection of kinship metaphors and lived experiences is not only productive of new political possibilities, as the literature emphasizes, but also of the latter's closure, making both acts of resistance and compliance equivocal. In this approach, we are inspired by labor process theories, which recognize workers as agents who both challenge and participate in reproducing their conditions (Burawoy, 1979; Lee, 1998; Ong, 1987). Taking into consideration the multiplicity of meanings of family also reveals sharply the ways in which acts of resistance and compliance are gendered processes, informed by logics, which may appear, at first glance, outside the world of work. Following Lee's work, we define familialism as “the social construction of women workers' paid labor as defined and confined by their gender role in the family, and the pervasive use of familial relations as metaphors for shopfloor relations” (Lee, 1993, 530). Finally, because workplaces lie at the heart of “inequality regimes” informed by and reinforcing gender, class and racial hierarchies (Acker, 2006), we emphasize that family metaphors can imply contradictory possibilities for women in the factories. The women's narratives of everyday life in the factories inform our conceptualizations of the metaphors. This multiplicity of family metaphors results from uneven and hierarchical interactions on the shop floor, as well as hegemonic gender and ethnicity regimes outside. The women's attempts to claim dignity through them are part of a dialogic process, whereby they respond to the ways in which they are publicly recognized (Skeggs, 1997). We trace the power of and the limits to these metaphors for organizing both compliance and resistance. 10

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Women's labor in Turkey: Intersections of neoliberalism and neoconservatism

honor (Altan-Olcay, 2009). The egalitarian policies have mostly benefited women in urban contexts although discourses of familial obligations have extended to all. Since the Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, AKP) came to power in 2002, there has been a growing literature on the coexistence of neoliberal and neoconservative policies and their implications for women (Acar & Altunok, 2012; Buğra & Yakut-Çakar, 2010; Coşar & Yeğenoğlu, 2011; İlkkaracan, 2012). Acar and Altunok argue that neoliberalism and neoconservatism coincide in the politics of the intimate, regulating women's sexuality, public visibility and behavior, and resulting in a situation where questions of rights and gender equality fade into the background (Acar & Altunok, 2012). These ideologies consolidate two interrelated economic processes. The first is the naturalization of gendered divisions of labor. Public opinion surveys show women are expected to have jobs ‘when necessary’ but that their primary duty is their family (Çarkoğlu & Kalaycıoğlu, 2013). Studies also reveal that women undertake an exorbitantly greater amount of household reproductive labor than men do and have to engage in various negotiations to access employment (Beşpınar, 2010; Memiş, Öneş, & Kızılırmak, 2011). Thus, women's extremely low levels of paid labor force participation cannot be understood in isolation from gender norms and unequal divisions of care labor (Göksel, 2013; GündüzHoşgör & Smits, 2008). Second, the family is a locus of social control: men and older women in homes, neighborhoods, and factories can all hold women accountable for their behavior and ensure obedience to restrictions on sexuality, public visibility and behavior (Dedeoğlu, 2010; Parla, 2001; White, 1994). These contribute to the naturalization of gendered recruitment practices and workplace segregation, and enforce women's obedience to flexible and insecure market conditions (Dedeoğlu, 2010; Ecevit, 1991; Suğur, 2005). These observations are especially relevant for Turkey's textile and clothing industries, one of the largest in the world (WTO, 2017, 34–35). The sector employs around 2 million workers (BST, 2014, 10), and within this figure, women's employment rate is above the total female employment percentage, standing at 44% (ILO, 2015). More than half of the workforce is employed informally (BST, 2014, 10), and productivity owes much to this: factory managers push for overtime without the legally required payments, pay less than the minimum wage and avoid social security payments. These patterns repeat themselves in collective organization: the latest reports indicate only 11% of union members are women (ÇSGB, 2014). Within this context of precarious jobs, low levels of employment and union membership, and conservative gender norms and family, we focus on metaphors of family as a lens through which women experience, resist and/or normalize precarious lives and exploitative work conditions.

Situating women's agency within these factories requires an understanding of three intersecting regimes: a neoliberal regime with its flimsy job opportunities (especially for women), an ethnic regime that has rendered the Kurdish population especially precarious as it has unfolded in parallel to Turkey's neoliberalization, and a gender regime increasingly intent on familializing women in private and public spaces. In this section, we discuss these macro-level processes. Turkey's shift to neoliberalism began with a structural adjustment program under IMF supervision after the 1980 coup. The shift towards export orientation was made possible largely because of hostile measures against organized labor (Öniş & Şenses, 2007). As early as the 1990s, the estimated number of informal workers in the manufacturing industry had already exceeded the number formally employed (Boratav, Yeldan, & Köse, 2001, 330). The draconian unionization law has dramatically decreased the unionized labor force to 8.6% today (Kus & Ozel, 2010; OECD, 2018a). Moreover, the sector has never recovered the real average income levels of 1994 (CBRT, 2014). It is under these circumstances, that Turkey has become the “pioneer” of export-oriented growth (Moghadam, 2005, 120), exporting around 80% of its manufacturing production since the early 2000s (World Bank, 2018). In this environment, women's employment rates in Turkey have declined from their already low levels since the 1980s. Despite the recent upturn, available data indicate that employment and labor force participation rates for women in 2017 remain as low as 28.9 and 33.6% respectively (TURKSTAT, 2018). Despite difficulties in capturing the full extent of women's economic activities, given widespread informalization (Dedeoğlu, 2010), Turkey still lags significantly behind OECD averages of 60.1 and 64%, respectively (OECD, 2018b). The 1980 military coup that contributed to the implementation of Turkey's neoliberal program is also pivotal for understanding the Kurdish problem. The exclusionary politics the state has historically adopted as part of a homogenizing nationalist ideology began showing signs of distress in the 1970s. After the 1980 military coup, a state of national emergency was declared in southeast Turkey, leading to prolonged battles between the military and the PKK. Over this decade, a significant Kurdish population from the region migrated to cities in western Turkey due to the violence, the forced evacuation of villages, and the lack of jobs (Icduygu, Romano, & Sirkeci, 1999). In the cities, Kurdish migrants have experienced multifaceted social exclusion, both from having lost access to their village land and because of drastic reductions in available public land and low skill jobs in cities since the late 1990s (Yükseker, 2006). Once these migrants, and especially men, arrived in the cities and found jobs, other family members and relatives followed suit, creating networks of employment information in the same neighborhoods (Güneş-Ayata, 2003). Increasing economic difficulties have also pushed more Kurdish women to seek employment. Their position in the labor market is revealing of the intersectionality of inequalities. The kinds of urban jobs accessible to lower-class Kurdish migrant women with little formal education require longer working hours for low wages and offer no social security (Dayıoğlu & Kırdar, 2010; İlkkaracan, 2012). Although this work is largely informal and home-based, textile and clothing factories also employ a growing number of women. These conditions of work also apply to the workers under study here. This labor market context is also connected to the historical unfolding of gender politics in Turkey. Early state-led modernization efforts in the first half of the twentieth century are known for having prioritized women's rights, albeit in an instrumental manner (Kadıoğlu, 1996; Tekeli, 1981). Even though enhancing women's rights symbolized the country's membership of the Western world (Tekeli, 1981), women's participation in public life was usually subsumed under their obligations as mothers, daughters and sisters, as well as carriers of family

Family as boundary: insiders and outsiders The two factories, Cyntex and Mobitex, were among the top in Turkey in terms of production volume, employment generation and export revenues between about 20 and 100 million dollars per annum at the time of the research. In both factories, women and men were concentrated in different divisions based on perceived gender attributes. Under the employer were several managers, supported by production supervisors in different divisions, who in turn managed foremen or women. In both companies, except for one forewoman, men occupied all high-level managerial positions. Only a few women served as assistant forewomen, and only in divisions with a majority of women workers. Reflecting industrial trends, their workforces were 60% women and predominantly Kurdish, displaced from southeast Turkey in the 1980s, as outlined above. Even though the workforce composition was similar in the two factories, their differing recruitment practices impacted how workers saw themselves in relation to management. Cyntex had been established in the 2000s by male members of a Kurdish family who had migrated from southeastern Turkey in the late 1980s. Although the 11

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As mentioned already and confirmed both by the HR manager and workers, Mobitex's recruitment strategies were clearly formalized. “Unlike Cyntex”, the union leader said, “Mobitex is an institutionalized company.” The same union leader told us that the owner was nonMuslim. None of the workers specifically alluded to his religious affiliation but his non-Muslim status meant that he did not have informal access to the community networks that Cyntex employers did. HR manager described the recruitment process adopted in the following words:

oldest brother is the official owner, the workers identified all his brothers as employers. Mobitex, on the other hand, was established in the late 1980s by a non-Muslim entrepreneur and was now run by his son. No other family members were involved. In Cyntex, recruitment relied explicitly on informal networks with open preference for workers from the same hometown as the owners. Mobitex, by contrast, followed a formal, seemingly objective procedure regarding job applicants. This difference in the discourses and strategies surrounding recruitment created distinct boundaries regarding who was included in ‘the family’ from the workers' perspective. In Cyntex, ‘the family’ included management whereas Mobitex managers became outsiders. Cyntex's informal recruitment process, which produced a large population of workers tied to each other and management through ethnicity or kinship ties, reinforced feelings of debt, belonging and trust. A worker explained this in the following way:

The recruitment of workers is onerous. We announce available positions on the website. First, we consider applicant CVs. After an initial screening, we call applicants for interviews. Applicants are then invited to take pre-employment tests. Only after that, we recruit people. Worker references, he added, “matter[ed] only to the extent that it mattered to any work setting,” suggesting once again the absence of thick social bonds between the management and the shop floor. After recruitment, once inside the factory, the employer and the management did not disseminate an image of the factory as a family, either. Instead, everyone interviewed insisted that formal rules regulated all shop-floor procedures. Nevertheless, Mobitex also ended up with a workforce from the same demographic group, living in the same neighborhoods, some with kinship ties. Thus, the dual connotations of the family as a boundary worked in different ways in Mobitex. First, the emphasis on professionalism in recruitment meant that Mobitex workers mostly did not feel affective chains of debt toward management. When the researcher tried to enter Mobitex, there was an impersonal treatment and the security guards, without much consideration, delegated the decision to human resources. No one felt particularly protective of the ‘inside’ so long as visiting rules were observed. More significantly, workers felt freer to express criticisms among themselves, to the interviewer and, ultimately, in the form of collective organization. Second, there was stark usage of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ when describing what happens on the shop floor. For instance, the managers – that is, ‘they’ – did not know, love or care for the workers:

They [the employers and managers] favor especially workers from Mardin and Diyarbakır. They really protect their relatives and villagers. I personally know that many employees here are relatives or villagers of the boss. Like their cousins, uncles, brothers-in-law, daughters-in-law… This strategy meant workers felt indebted to their employers and managers, who had sought them out for their familial and hometown connections, as another worker explained: “You've got to know someone inside. Here, on the shop floor, everyone knows each other. We're relatives, friends, neighbors … So, we're like a big family (emphasis added).” This rhetoric of the big family and the practice of insiders seeking out new members combined to create two effects of boundary drawing between insiders and outsiders. The first was evidenced during the fieldwork, when low-level employees, who expressed kinship ties with the employer, denied that there could be any problems in the factory. Even the security guard was reluctant to take the researcher inside as he independently refused access, arguing that “everything's already good here” without feeling the need to consult with his supervisors. Others in adjacent factories confirmed these familial discourses: “when Cyntex needs workers, its security guard sometimes asks me whether I've got relatives or friends looking for a job. Working conditions are very good and I recommend it to my female relatives.” As for the women themselves who agreed to be interviewed, it was always in a reluctant guilt-ridden manner as if they were wronging people they should not be. They asked for the interviews not to be recorded and preferred for the meeting to take place far away from the factories and their neighborhood. During the interviews, when someone called, they usually lied about their whereabouts; as they narrated their negative experiences, they became visibly uncomfortable. A union leader described the second boundary effect: “Cyntex is a feudal, old-minded organization. Relatives are everywhere.” However, these male and female relatives occupied different places and unequal jobs. Except for one female supervisor, male relatives occupied all high and low-level managerial positions. In contrast, female members of the same families were more likely to be employed in low-status jobs. As one worker explained, “especially their sisters-in-law (the wives of cousins or brothers) are employed in jobs like ours.” Yet, ultimately, even female family members employed in low-status jobs exercised power in their interactions with others. Another interviewee explained: “You must see them! They walk around with such pretentiousness! In the shuttle buses, they grab the front seats, exclaiming things like ‘I'm the first bride, I must take the front seat!’” In other words, blatant sexism operating in job allocations was translated into a familial language, with an informal language of hierarchical membership in the family permeating low-status jobs. As people defined their entry and positioning in the company in familial terms, a boundary was drawn in which management, employers were part of the family, and ‘the outside’ was literally outside the factory gates.

The most important factor behind a company's success is the respect and love that it shows to their workers. This has never happened here. Our supervisors, managers, employer don't know anything about human psychology. They should learn how to approach and how to motivate us. The labor process in Cyntex and Mobitex were not very different from one another, leaving aside the management's appropriation of family in the former. In fact, Mobitex had less overtime work and its wages were on par with the industry's average. Nevertheless, the workers complained that management did not treat them as legitimate members of the organization. It was not only that the worker quoted above was drawing a boundary between workers and management; rather, she was also doing this in a way that expressed her resentment in terms of absence of care. It was this absence that several workers gave as the reason behind their lack of motivation and sense of grievance. For these workers, “money [wa]s of course important, but there [we]re other important matters, as well… [they] wanted the managers to know that they could not make [them] do everything they wanted!” Just as workers were not even “thanked for [their] success” by the managers, which would “definitely motivate” them, familial ties and affect ended up being voiced as an absence. Another recounted a story about how management did not respond to their needs even on religiously important days: Last year in Ramadan, the iftar was very late, around 9 in the evening. We weren't allowed to have [a proper] iftar though. Our managers gave us tomatoes and cucumbers … or a packet of cheap biscuits to be shared between 10 workers. When [w]e complained, 12

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[t]he supervisor just shouted, ‘this is Mobitex! This is Turkey! Here is the door: work or leave if you like!’

phones, bathrooms and break time during work hours. However, there was also a flipside to discourses of mutual responsibility and care: workers were expected to be obedient and respond positively to management demands so that “everyone stay[ed] happy”. As one worker explained, “We have to get on well with managers … Sometimes he turns a blind eye to a mistake you make and sometimes you work overtime without any questions when he commands. This way everyone is happy.” One manager gave a different perspective. Certainly, he said, there was hierarchy on the shop floor, but this coincided with mutual responsibility, as is “the case in every family”. He continued:

Recruitment processes already meant that workers did not interpret their jobs as a special favor from the management. Brotheridge and Lee (2006) observe that even when families and organizations rely on similar resources to maintain cohesiveness, there are fundamental differences in terms of the nature of and temporality of bonds. As this quote shows, in this case, given the complete absence of managerial family discourses, Mobitex workers emphasized the permeability of organizational boundaries and their own replaceability. This feeling of replaceability ran both ways: when workers chose to organize, they were aware of the danger of losing their jobs; but as one of them put it, “I could find a similar job anyway. I didn't want to work under these conditions anymore”. This was unlike Cyntex, where the management actively cultivated an image of a family and explicitly declared that workers became members for life – so long as they “behaved”. In short, the boundaries of family were drawn differently in the two settings.

Cyntex has an open-door policy. Workers are free to directly visit the employer. We have monthly meetings where we discuss our problems together: what did we achieve, where did we fail, what should we do in the future? … So, we treat our workers like a very big family. If you don't do this, you can never prevent discontent (emphasis added). Scholars have argued that the usage of discourses such as an opendoor policy and familialism in workplaces emphasize values like informality, openness, respect and trust (Brotheridge & Lee, 2006, 142; Kunda, 2006, 71). In this case, however, the discourse also served to naturalize harsh working conditions, making it possible for management to make excessive demands ‘in the name of the family’. Thus, the specific way in which family boundaries were drawn and familial rhetoric was deployed in Cyntex was instrumental in dissipating potential tensions. In Mobitex, on the other hand, similar exploitative conditions were experienced as just that, from the recruitment process onwards, because management was not seen as “part of the family”. Nevertheless, the women still articulated their frustrations in a familial language of mutual care and respect, but differently focused to that in Cyntex:

Family as extension of care relations We have seen that recruitment procedures in these two companies were the first way of introducing family rhetoric, whereby one setting was dominated by the management while workers dominated in the other in terms of an absence, resulting in different descriptions of who was inside and outside each family. The second way in which family discourses circulated had to do with assumptions about mutual care responsibilities. In Cyntex, managers could coax workers to obey exploitative conditions by using a language of familial reciprocity and responsibility. In Mobitex, however, workers controlled this language and made demands from the management in the name of their own families. For them the language of care became a way to translate their demands for rights among themselves and to their own families. The deployment of the family metaphor in Cyntex worked visibly in the hierarchical experience on the shop floor. Managers and supervisors encouraged workers to work faster, asked for overtime for the good of the family and assumed a patriarchal tone when reprimanding them. These strategies were supplemented by frequent small talk about the women's actual families, small favors distributed in recognition of these families and preferential treatment based on women's familial ties and behavior. Within this hierarchy, the boss represented a father figure who kept his distance but still protected his dependents while the supervisors and foremen or women were the brothers and sisters (in fact, women often called them “brother” or “sister”) who interacted with the workers. The workers often expressed gratitude for these familial relations:

To be honest, if my supervisor doesn't say ‘good morning’, doesn't ask ‘how are you today?’, and doesn't take my opinions into account, what does it matter? We can't even … speak! But sharing ideas [between workers and managers] and being like a family are very important for a company to survive (emphasis added). This is an example of how the family rhetoric can make workers experience hierarchies as more penetrable and less strict while maintaining a sense of belonging (Casey, 1999, 160–161). In its absence, as the above quote reveals, workers felt starkly exposed to hierarchical barriers and deprived of communication channels with management. Several interviewees narrated similar stories about how, when they attempted to voice demands and speak in a language of care, managers responded that this was a place of work and that these were the “rules of the game”. Yet, although family was absent inside the Mobitex factory in the sense that it was present in Cyntex, it still remained a readily available discourse for Mobitex workers. Even though recruitment followed professionalized steps, they came from the same neighborhoods, and often had ethnic and kinship ties with each other. In this environment of hard work, forced overtime and poor relations with management, actual kinship ties and the availability of familial discourses became a resource for mobilization. They trusted each other because they were connected to one another in their communities that management could not penetrate. One of them told us:

She [the forewoman] is very kind. She thanks us, asks about our private issues, calls us ‘daughter’ … She's like a mother; she understands us. For example, if you're waiting for an important call during working hours, she allows us to speak on the phone as long as we inform her about it in advance. It's because she wants to defend us against the supervisor in case he sees us talking on the phone. The workers liked this forewoman because she established familial relations with them and made small concessions, which they interpreted as altruism. Another worker called her male supervisor a “brother” because “[he] is a good person. Every day he asks me how I am doing, how my son is doing. Some mornings, he comes to the factory with food and we have breakfast together.” This interviewee saw these exchanges as things that happen in real families and reinterpreted work relations in terms of a big family. Familial nicknames, which were widespread throughout the factory, carried undertones of mutual responsibility. All reinforced the understanding that when and if immediate supervisors did do something favorable for the women, they did it out of familial relations of care and altruism, and not necessarily because it was the workers' right to access

We were three workers in the beginning. Then we selected the people we could trust. Honestly, the most helpful factor … is that almost all of us are migrants from [the same province in Southeast Turkey] and we all live in the same neighborhood. One of the prevailing themes among those who joined the union was the feeling of replaceability, as discussed before. The fact that the workers felt they could be let go in a moment fueled their grievances and were able to act because they believed that their jobs, too, were 13

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that a manager described in the previous section. These monthly gatherings supposedly gave workers a chance to voice complaints. In reality, however, the workers described how these were always scheduled during loading days, when there is increased time pressure, meaning that the meetings were always very short. Furthermore, often managers took most of the time, with speeches about the company's success as the workers' success together as a family to encourage even harder work. One worker described the context as follows:

replaceable. That is, jobs come and go but their families and communities would always be there for them: We had nothing to lose: we would change our working conditions or quit our jobs to work elsewhere. We already knew the risk. Years ago, someone tried to organize workers and 80 workers were suddenly dismissed. Even the word “union” was enough to risk our jobs. But we were adamant and trusted each other. In these early days of organization, when women visited each other's homes to convince co-workers to sign the petition to demand union representation, the conversations were never about their right to unionize as workers. Instead, they emphasized how existing work conditions hurt the families: “We [are expected to be] both good workers and perfect mothers. [But] factory work and home didn't go together here because we couldn't find enough time for our families.” Thus the discourse of familial responsibilities and care relations were also useful for convincing actual families, whose members were less likely to see the women as workers with rights. The women were reclaiming in a very specific manner actual gendered expectations from them in households to organize collectively in their work places. After five months of intense effort using these creative deployments of familial tropes and bonds of trust, workers were able to collect enough signatures to lawfully demand unionization. Their grievances, voiced in terms of the absence of familial affect and sense of belonging, and their insistence on the recognition of their familial obligations, worked both inside and outside the factory. The factory had to negotiate with the workers to reach a collective agreement safeguarding them against forced overtime work, Sunday work, and inadequate health and safety measures. They also put on the union's agenda for later negotiations the demand for child daycare in the workplace.

He tries to motivate us saying things like ‘Today is very important. It is how we earn money, and this is your success. I know some of you already work hard. I want all of you to work hard, finish that job and get your money’. I feel that sometimes he speaks too much, going on and on about how they have become such a big company. He always says things like “‘Never complain! I was a worker like you before’.” Given this environment of time pressure, familial encouragement discourses and worker competition, even if some workers might have intended to voice their complaints before the meetings, in the end, no one risked standing out. In short, as Gabriel notes, no matter what pressures they experienced, workers were expected to keep their grievances in the family (Gabriel, 1999, 180). Managers frequently also showcased individual ‘hardworking’ workers. One boasted how she always made this list: Everyone is in competition with one another to be a favorite worker. I am the favorite worker in our division. Our manager repeats it in every meeting in front of the other workers. He advises others to become like me. They, of course, get jealous. Not everyone interpreted competition in this way, however. Interviewees frequently voiced cynical opinions about their workmates – their ‘sisters’, describing the competition to become ‘the favorite daughter’. This competition was particularly intense because, in an environment where rules did not clearly define workers' rights, becoming a supervisor's favorite could mean more desirable positions on the shop floor, mistakes that go unpunished, less workload, early leaves, etc. As one interviewee put it, in this environment of affective ties, “once you're a favorite, no one can clash with you and you secure your position”. Ironically, the competition to become the ‘favorite daughter’ also created discord: a majority of the interviewees questioned how genuine familial ties could be in an environment where everybody was trying to undermine each other. A second aspect of this competition was that it created a lot of gossip: workers suspected that ‘the favorites’ were spying on the rest or giving sexual favors to secure their advantages. In several interviews, the concept of women's honor was brought up, with widows and divorced women being often singled out by other women as lacking in ‘honor’. Some emphasized to us that “a woman means honor” and that “widows and divorcees shouldn't even mention that they don't have a husband at home”. These words were reminiscent of widespread talk on women's honor and how men and women policed women's behavior inside factory gates. The guard who told us he recommended his own relatives for positions at Cyntex also alluded that the good conditions he was referring to mean he wouldn't have to worry about female relatives' ‘honor.’ In other words, discourses of family honor actually destabilized the idea that Cyntex was a big family where everyone cared and respected one another. For women, thus “the company [wa]s family and prison at the same time,” demanding constant surveillance extending beyond work performance (Gabriel, 1999, 191). In fact, familial discourses almost became a threat. Some workers chose to ‘defeminize’ their appearance to avoid gossip:

Ambivalences and limits The cases of Mobitex and Cyntex show that familial discourses operate as a boundary marker in defining who is included or excluded, and who benefits from assumed relations of reciprocity, trust and mutual responsibility. However, there were limits to both resistance and labor control in the use of family discourses, which manifested in the form of worker ambivalence and cynicism in Cyntex, and limitations to collective mobilization in the case of Mobitex. Cynicism and ambivalence was visibly present in Cyntex, arising from differences between actual experiences on the shop floor and the incessantly promoted family imagery. Although the women viewed the boss favorably, and expressed gratitude toward middle management and coworkers, there were also cracks in these narratives. Because the supervisors were the ones passing on unpopular demands, women became cynical and resentful toward them. Theirs was a love-hate relationship, typical of conflicts within a family (Brotheridge & Lee, 2006, 142). As one worker told us, “the boss even doesn't know what is going on here on the shop floor. … Our boss is actually a nice guy … If he knew about how unfair some managers are, I don't think he would let them work here.” As exemplified by these words, workers expressed a dissonance between what the employers were saying and how they were being treated by middle-management. Due to such experiences, the workers sometimes engaged in foot dragging to the degree it would not jeopardize their jobs. At other times, when the demands seemed to be overwhelmingly unidirectional, they distanced themselves from management discourses of family. Through these individualized, under-the-radar tactics they could respond to normative controls at the workplace without overt confrontation (Fleming, 2005). The naturalization of factory hierarchies in familial terms ultimately meant, however, that discontent ‘stayed in the family’. In family-like workplaces, employers often retaliate against worker ambivalences and cynicism by intensification of managerial discourses around the family (Casey, 1999). One example of this was the meetings

I'm like a man. They call me “tomboy” (erkek fatma); everyone knows me. I talk to everyone, men or women. For example, my male friends staring at a woman worker walking past them ask me, “Wow! she was cute, wasn't she?” These tactics were reminiscent of widespread familial rhetoric tying 14

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During union meetings, they constantly called each other “brother” or “sister”, reinforcing the non-sexual nature of the encounters. In these meetings, it was always women who prepared and served food and tea; once again visibly reenacting the gendered divisions of labor within households. After the meetings were over, the union leader often drove women home himself to, once again, safeguard them against the danger of gossip. Often women had to ask for permission, especially from male members of their household, before they could become union members. In a setting where women were expected to be more submissive, their mobilization could be considered an act of defiance. Therefore, to bypass this threat, they framed themselves as daughters, sisters and mothers: as one of the woman organizers said, because “women were afraid of their husbands and fiancés, … we visited them in their houses and talked to husbands and fiancés as well”. Although this strategy worked, its limits were also there. First, not all the women embraced the idea of mobilization due to management as well as family pressure. Women who initially signed up for union membership withdrew their signatures when family members pressured them to do so. Others did not sign from the beginning, and even disclosed others' activities, again because families pressured them, fearful that the women would lose their jobs if word got out. In other words, women could make demands in the name of their families and familial obligations but they could also be in a position of not being able to resist demands made by their own families. This revealed how collective resistance efforts could also be undercut by the acceptance of familial norms and hierarchies.

women's sexuality to their lack of dignity and honor revealing once again how family discourses, whether they produce compliance or resistance, are almost always gendered. The same worker continued: I saw a widowed woman and a single foreman from another branch together. The day after, they asked me to keep it a secret. I don't care. I don't like gossiping. If it was someone else, they would blackmail them, want something [in return for keeping their secret] … [Everything here] work[s] through threats, gossip, blackmailing and bribes. In other words, the threat of gossip also created multilayered behavioral control mechanisms in place of formal rules. People could also use it strategically to defame rivals. When women talked among one another about the loose morals of a co-worker, this could easily result anything from social isolation via intervention by their real family to being fired. Thus, being the target of gossip was always a danger lurking in everyday encounters, something that these women had to guard against. In this context, the women worked an uneasy terrain between the risk of loss of honor and competition for favors, resulting both in overt displays of obedience and more covert expressions of ambivalence. This was not only a story of domination or manipulation but also the way the workers realize[d] their own “personal self-worth and power”, thereby complicating the potential for collective resistance as well as influencing the degree to which obedience worked (Cairoli, 1998, 182). Mobitex workers, on the other hand, were deprived of such channels for achieving personal self-worth and power (Cairoli, 1998). Instead, as explained in the previous section, they utilized familial tropes strategically to mobilize themselves. This is exemplary of the literature on women's social movements, which shows how family can be used as a basis for making collective demands and how familial rhetoric can serve the immediate purpose of establishing mutual bonds among participants (MacEwen-Scott, 2005). In those early days, the absence of care relations within the factory and the women's demands for a modicum of altruism and belonging became the starting point for expressions of grievance. They said they wanted to be a family on the shop floor and convinced members of their actual families that they were not being treated fairly as mothers, sisters and daughters with responsibilities at home. Family discourses both bonded women workers together and convinced actual families of the “non-threatening” nature of their mobilization. In other words, the Mobitex case also revealed limitations. The women told us many stories of how they needed to strategize around familial norms to ensure they would not be ostracized by their communities while trying to mobilize. The crucial implication here was that while they could risk losing their own jobs, they could not risk losing the trust between them, their communities and their actual families. This was why family had to be not only strategically utilized but also navigated. A male union leader explained the difficulty of organizing women workers as a man:

Concluding remarks In this article, we have focused on the diverse experiences and metaphors of family as they played out in two textile factories in Turkey. In one, management dominated the mobilization of kinship ties and familial rhetoric while workers participated daily in their upkeeping. This situation enabled the naturalization of exploitative practices through a vision of the family based on gendered hierarchies and dangers. In the other factory, the workers' ability to demand dignity, recognition and belonging, utilizing both community networks and familial metaphors, resulted in collective mobilization. Through this contribution, we suggest that the family as metaphor is generated in factories and beyond, in multiple ways, always in conjunction with women's actual experiences with families and kinship ties. At the intersection of experience and metaphor, we see the emergence of multiple meanings for family, which can simultaneously become sources for compliance and resistance. The diverse in which family figures in the narratives of the workers tell us unequivocally that women mobilize various resources at their disposition to exercise control over their lives. These gendered strategies allow us to dispel images of unidirectional exercises of domination. However, we also argue, that we need to recognize the limits as well as the potential of these everyday processes. First, although the factory managers' deployment of the same metaphors can increase their control of labor, this is never a stable process because everyday realities do not coincide with discourses of care, trust and reciprocity. This might open up the possibility of refusing control on the part of workers. However, family continues to keep the workers, in line, naturalizing their workrelated grievances. Second, there are clear differences between the workers' strategic uses of familial metaphors, to build bonds of trust and mobilize, and what they need to do to navigate expectations of being “good” daughters, sisters and mothers. That is, when collective and individualized strategies intersect with family metaphors, the problems of familial norms and patriarchal limits can also be reproduced. Family metaphors and actual familial bonds, in other words, cut both ways and produce ambiguous political possibilities, neither solely compliance nor resistance.

You can't talk to women in their home … you can't talk them on the phone. Their husbands may misunderstand … Women have to ask their husbands before registering with the union. But when a female union member gains that worker's trust, I don't think her husband can stop it. As this quote suggests, widespread community bonds and familial networks of trust – which the women were able to utilize – were also the source of norms and practices that could pose threats. One issue had to do with the fact that where women could go and what they could demand were always under community surveillance, especially when it came to encounters with men. To make sure that ‘family honor’ was not put in doubt, women carefully utilized familial connections and discourses. For instance, the head of the textile union was a Kurdish man in his thirties who families knew personally. This was frequently brought up to make sure their visits to the office were not suspect. 15

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