Opinion | Help the helper
Kelly Yang says even if domestic helpers are denied permanent residency here, they should at least be allowed to live out
Last summer, I was riding a train in San Francisco when two young couples in their early 30s came on board with five toddlers. The kids weren't misbehaving, but the parents looked as frazzled as the worn-out strollers they pushed.
"What if there was a place where the houses all came with babysitters, and the babysitters wouldn't be crazy expensive?" one of them thought out loud.
"Yeah, and they could cook!" another added. "And there'd be a pool area - for adults only!"
Up and down the aisle, mums and dads nodded enthusiastically. "With drinks!" someone added. "Margaritas! And our houses would always be clean!"
I wanted to say something. But what exactly? That such a place exists? That I live there? That I can't remember the last time I shopped for groceries? Or did the dishes? They'd never believe it. I would not have believed when I first moved here that a person would live with and work for me six days a week.
But we live in a strange place where a full-time domestic helper costs less than a part-time one. So, shortly after moving here, I got my first helper. There I was, just 22 years old and in charge of another adult. She was a 26-year-old Filipina named Daisy and I had absolutely no idea what to do with her.