On the factory floor, being a woman, being a migrant and being working class do not act as separate disadvantages. They combine to decide who gets which job, who gives orders and who takes them. You cannot understand any one of the three without the other two.
Behind the modern machinery, the factory keeps rigid layers of rank that work almost like a feudal order. Mostly male, mostly native-born supervisors sit above migrant women on the line. The same divisions that set the women apart can also become the ground on which they stand together.
For women on the line, the clock of repetitive paid work runs straight into the clock of children, housework and rest. The job leaves no slack to absorb home duties, so the strain of combining work and family shows up in its harshest form. That squeeze is part of why change and fairness stall.
Even workers treated as the least powerful can organise themselves and walk out, without waiting for union officials to lead. Women on the line led a strike from the bottom up. They also pressed a newcomer they trusted to become their shop steward, their union representative on the floor.