Dear Mr. Malforte,

            My name is Susan Black. I hope this letter finds you in the best condition possible. I write to inform you that I have recently had the misfortune of experiencing the Triangle Fire. I would like to stress upon you that I write in peace, not war. I merely implore you to see the fire as I saw it, an event so atrocious, a battle of the most grievous kind that the tears have long stopped falling from these poor eyes who were so unfortunate as to witness this horrific event.

            You may say that the casualties in this battle were by far less than the casualties of any battle previously fought on this soil of our fathers. However, it is not this fact but rather the fact that one may use such information as defense, that ails my heart so, and implants within me a conviction that surpasses that of any politician in this nation. This conviction is that our country is in grave danger. We do not see the danger now but that makes it no less of a threat. In fact, it makes it even more so. If a snake has the ability to blind its prey, to blind it so that, till the last second before it bites, the prey sees the predator as a harmless stick, then we are indeed in a grave situation that is unlike any we could imagine.

            They asked me what I saw. They asked me how these 146 casualties died. They asked, and what is more, they required an answer. They believed that 146 lives were trifles, mere stock prices to be put in the newspaper. They believed that such calamities could be put into words, could be given and forgotten, could be called “accidents.” Nevertheless, I gave them the answer they sought. I told them that the flames were like knives, ripping our clothes, scalding the soles of our bare feet, whipping our hair and our hearts into a frenzy. I told them that the smoke was so intense, so very intense that it squeezed every last breath out of our lungs, not unlike a snake squeezing its victim to the death. The heat was unbearable, merciless, ruthless. Not a cry was uttered from the cracked lips of my sisters. Not a tear caressed their gaunt cheeks. Not a scalded head was bent in prayer, for they knew that all was lost. They knew that the physical fire consuming them is merciful. Yes! Merciful, compared to the flames of oppression that have licked their hearts as the years passed, hour after hour.

            I conclude, sir, by congratulating you. I congratulate you and all such factory owners in this country. You have succeeded at the task which you so fervently desired. You succeeded at becoming wealthy entrepreneurs. You have succeeded, sir, if what you have reached could be called success. You have succeeded, sir, if wealth could alone create nations. You have succeeded, sir, at squeezing the breath out of innocent and faithful workers, if that could be called success. If success is the blind attainment of wealth, then, sir, you have gone farther along the path of success than any other. If the soil of this nation is more precious than the human soul, then, sir, you have my express admiration and support. If wisdom is a snake, then, sir, your wisdom exceeds that of Confucius.    

I thank you for your time,

Susan Black

NOTE: Mr. Malforte and Susan Black are entirely fictional characters. Any relationship to historical figures would be completely coincidental.                

– Ayah Gouda