Labor is Art
The Met Gala has always sold itself as a celebration of culture.
This year, it revealed something else entirely.
When Jeff Bezos became one of the faces and primary sponsors of fashion’s biggest night, a lot of people asked why workers, labor organizers, and artists chose to push back so hard. But for me, the answer is simple:
Culture matters because culture shapes what—and who—we value.
And when billionaires who profit from exploitation become the curators of culture, we have a responsibility to say something.
That’s why workers, organizers, artists, and designers came together for the “Labor Is Art” themed “Ball Without Billionaires” ahead of the Met Gala this week. Not because we are against fashion. Not because we are against art. Not because we are against the Met Gala. But because we refuse to accept a world where the people who exploit labor get celebrated while the people whose labor makes everything possible remain invisible.









And I want to start by shouting out the incredible hosts who helped shape the spirit of the event. Alongside me were Lisa Ann Walter—who so many know and love as the fiercely pro-union Melissa Schemmenti on Abbott Elementary—and Gabriella Karefa-Johnson, one of the most important voices in fashion today and the first Black woman to style a Vogue cover in 2021.
Their presence mattered. Because this event wasn’t just about protest—it was about bringing together labor, fashion, culture, and storytelling in a way that felt bold, joyful, and deeply rooted in community.
And I also want to honor the designers who brought that vision to life.
Designers like Cindy Castro, DSEAN, Lumère, Atashi, SALTEYE STUDIO, abacaxi, and Labyrinth have reminded us that fashion can still tell the truth. Their work reflected the beauty, complexity, creativity, and resistance that lives inside working-class communities every single day. They didn’t just dress people for an event—they helped tell a story about dignity, visibility, and power.
Because let’s be clear: there is no fashion industry without workers.
No couture without garment workers. No red carpet without drivers, cleaners, caterers, security officers, makeup artists, assistants, production assistants, backstage crew, and warehouse workers moving products around the clock.
There is no culture without labor.
That is the truth at the center of this moment.
The irony is that the Met Gala’s theme this year was “Fashion Is Art.”
I agree.
Fashion is art.
But labor is art too.
The creativity, precision, care, endurance, and imagination that working people bring to this country every single day is art. The way caregivers hold families together is art. The way janitors restore spaces before dawn is art. The way airport workers move millions of people safely around the world is art. The way warehouse workers keep this economy running under impossible conditions is art.
And yet, the workers behind all of it are too often treated as disposable.
That contradiction is what people were protesting this week.
Not glamour itself—but the idea that immense wealth and corporate power should sit at the center of culture while working people are pushed to the margins.
Because this moment is bigger than one event.
It speaks to a deeper question about who gets visibility, who gets dignity, and who gets to shape public life in America.
And that question is connected to everything else we are fighting right now.
It is connected to the Supreme Court gutting the Voting Rights Act. It is connected to the demonization of immigrants. It is connected to attacks on unions. It is connected to the growing concentration of wealth and power in fewer and fewer hands.
At the center of all of it is the same fight:
Who counts?
Who matters?
Who gets heard?
That is why I keep coming back to the language of money, power, and respect.
Because working people deserve all three.
Money means more than wages. It means the ability to live without constant instability and fear.
Power means more than elections. It means having a real say over the decisions shaping our workplaces, our communities, and our futures.
Respect means dignity. It means understanding that workers are not props in someone else’s success story—we are the reason this country functions at all.
And dignity matters.
It matters in politics.
It matters in our economy.
And yes—it matters in culture too.
That’s why the “Labor Is Art” action resonated with so many people this week. It reminded people that culture has always belonged to the people bold enough to create it—not just the people wealthy enough to buy access to it.
Historically, some of the most important cultural movements in this country were born during moments of hardship and inequality. The Harlem Renaissance emerged during the Great Depression. Civil rights organizers marched in their Sunday best not because they were performing respectability, but because they were asserting dignity in the face of a system designed to deny it.



That history matters right now.
Because even in difficult moments, culture has always outlasted corruption, greed, and the people who believed power belonged only to them.
And that is what I saw this week in New York.
Not just protest.
Possibility.
Workers, artists, organizers, and everyday people refusing to accept invisibility. Refusing to separate creativity from justice. Refusing to believe that culture belongs only to billionaires.
That is the future we have to keep building.
A future where working people are not only seen—but valued.
A future where dignity is not reserved for the wealthy.
A future where labor is recognized not only as essential—but as beautiful.
Because at the end of the day, labor is art. And working people deserve the money, power, and respect that comes with it.


