“Stitched Together by Struggle”: How the ILGWU Was Born from Trauma Bonding on the Factory Floor

In today’s workplaces, we often talk about trauma bonding—the emotional ties that form between people who endure high-stress or harmful environments together. Though the term is more often applied to toxic relationships or burnout-prone teams, its roots can be seen much earlier in American labor history—most vividly in the founding of the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union (ILGWU) in 1900.

Trauma Bonding Before It Had a Name

At the turn of the 20th century, thousands of immigrant women toiled in New York City’s garment factories under brutal conditions: 14-hour shifts, locked doors, low wages, and constant fear of abuse or sudden injury. In these environments, workers didn’t just suffer—they survived together. The bonds they formed weren’t built in break rooms or retreats; they were forged in sweatshops, on picket lines, and in shared moments of exhaustion, fear, and defiance.

Today we might call this trauma bonding: the intense solidarity born from collective hardship. But in 1900, it became the foundation of a movement. That year, a small group of garment workers founded the ILGWU to fight for safer, fairer, and more humane labor conditions. Their bond wasn’t based on ideology alone—it was rooted in shared trauma and the urgent need to reclaim power.

The Uprising of the 20,000: Strength Through Shared Struggle

Nowhere was this bond more evident than in the 1909 Uprising of the 20,000, when young women shirtwaist workers walked off the job in one of the largest strikes by women in U.S. history. Many were teenagers, immigrants, and breadwinners. They faced arrests, beatings, and hunger. But their shared trauma became their glue. One striker famously said, “I’d rather starve than go back.”

These workers didn’t just organize—they leaned on one another emotionally and physically. Like employees in today’s toxic jobs who “trauma-bond” over shared stress or exploitation, the strikers found strength in knowing they weren’t alone. But unlike many modern workers who feel trapped in dysfunctional environments, the ILGWU channeled that bond into collective action.

Triangle Shirtwaist Fire: From Shared Grief to Reform

In 1911, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire killed 146 workers, most of them young immigrant women. The trauma of that day rippled through the working-class communities of New York and became a national symbol of industrial injustice. For the ILGWU, it was a turning point—grief was transformed into legislation, organizing, and widespread public support for labor reform.

We see this dynamic today: When tragedy strikes in a workplace—whether it’s mass layoffs, burnout crises, or harassment scandals—employees often draw closer. But trauma without action can stagnate. The ILGWU showed that healing requires more than shared suffering; it needs structure, solidarity, and strategy.

A Model for Collective Resilience

Modern work culture is still rife with overwork, exploitation, and emotional labor. Trauma bonding happens in hospitals during COVID surges, in under-resourced classrooms, or in startups running on fumes. But if the ILGWU's legacy teaches us anything, it’s that the feelings of loyalty and connection formed under pressure can be powerful fuel—not just for survival, but for change.

The women who founded and grew the ILGWU turned their trauma bond into a formal union. They didn’t just commiserate—they organized. They made a permanent structure out of temporary pain.

What Trauma Bonding Means for Organizational Culture Today

In modern workplaces, trauma bonding often emerges in environments where stress, overwork, and emotional strain are normalized. When employees endure repeated crises—be it toxic leadership, unrealistic expectations, systemic inequity, or chronic burnout—they may develop intense emotional bonds with their coworkers, not because the environment is healthy, but because they’re surviving it together.

This can create a paradox in organizational culture: teams may appear close-knit and loyal, but the cohesion is built on shared hardship, not genuine psychological safety. People may stay in unhealthy roles out of loyalty to coworkers or fear of disrupting fragile team dynamics. Leadership may misread this loyalty as engagement, when it’s actually exhaustion.

Unchecked, trauma bonding can:

• Mask deeper cultural problems, like poor communication or lack of boundaries

• Hinder retention, as burnout eventually overrides loyalty

• Suppress dissent, as employees prioritize group survival over individual voice

• Perpetuate dysfunction under the illusion of camaraderie

But, as the ILGWU’s origin story shows, trauma bonding doesn’t have to end in burnout or stagnation. It can become a foundation for collective action and cultural change, if organizations:

• Acknowledge the emotional toll of unhealthy environments

• Create avenues for healing and open dialogue

• Rebuild trust through fairness, transparency, and structural support

• Invest in leadership development that prioritizes empathy and sustainability

Ultimately, strong organizational cultures aren’t built by trauma—they're built by trust. Recognizing when team closeness is rooted in shared adversity is the first step toward building a workplace that doesn’t just hold people together under pressure, but helps them thrive long after the pressure is gone.