Working in a Textile Mill in 1892

My parents lied to me. When we moved here, they told me that everyone in America lives in a beautiful house, has an abundance of fat chickens and pigs, and eventually becomes wealthy. In America, as long as you work hard, nothing can stop you from being wealthy.
The city is awful. It’s the ugliest place I’ve ever been. It’s nothing like the farm back home, and there are no chickens or pigs or fine houses- at least not where we live. The room we live in is so small, when we lie down to sleep we are never more than two inches away from each other. The tenements are crowded and dirty. But this is all my parents and I can afford.
It is so hard to find work, because everyone is so desperate for even the worst jobs. Some places will not accept applications from Irish, Catholics, or Jews. I was excited for my first day at work, until my hand was caught in the washing range and my fingers were hurt and bruised. I told the overseer, who then ordered me back to work. When I came to her again, she threatened to fire me. Standing long hours in the overcrowded, hot room is exhausting.
Some women in the mill talk of forming a union. This seems silly to me. Who would listen to a woman, especially a poor Jewish woman? I have heard of these organizations in Chicago. I heard that several years ago, four immigrant workers were killed for participating in a strike. While workers were protesting their deaths, someone threw a bomb at a policeman. Eight people were charged with the bombing, and seven of them were immigrants. Many people die to try to receive better wages or shorter hours. I cannot afford to get hurt or lose my job. My family depends on me.