Sara, Uber and Lyft Driver

I drive for the apps, mostly Lyft, and I’ve seen what happens when you speak up. They can take your work away in an instant, and for people like me—migrants trying to make ends meet—this job is survival. But I also believe that telling the truth matters, and that’s why I’ve joined a campaign called Gig Workers Rising.

I’ve been a driver for Lyft and Uber for two years here in the U.S., and before that, I drove for Uber in Bogotá, Colombia. I love driving. I love meeting people and taking pride in my work. My passengers always tell me I’m kind and respectful. I have high ratings. Sometimes they tip me just for being warm and attentive. But even though I love what I do, I hate the abuse that comes with it.

These companies—these apps—they’re stealing from us. They take 70% or even 80% of the fare and leave us with crumbs. I’ve compared fares with my passengers. One woman said she paid $17 for a ride, and I showed her I was getting just $4. Another time, a trip to Santa Rosa cost the rider $800. I was paid $160—and that’s before they deducted $40 on the return trip. How is that just?

These companies—these apps—they’re stealing from us. They take 70% or even 80% of the fare and leave us with crumbs.

What people don’t see is what this job costs us. Tires wear out fast. Oil changes are constant. Insurance? That’s on us too. And there’s the toll it takes on your life. I live in my car. I’ve gotten sick from the exhaustion. The sleep deprivation makes my head pound. And still, I drive.

I regularly work 16 hours a day. The other day, I got home barely awake after a long shift. And what do I make? Maybe $100 or $150—before gas. My car is small, but I still spend $60 a day on fuel. It’s not right. It’s not sustainable. It’s not human.

What pushed me to get involved in the campaign was the sheer unfairness of it all. Most passengers assume we get 80% of the fare, but it’s the opposite. These companies pocket most of it and pretend we’re partners. But partners share risk and reward. This is something else.

I’ve also faced serious safety issues. As a woman, I’ve been harassed, assaulted, and even punched by a passenger. I reported it, but the app didn’t care. Unless you’re killed during a ride, they do nothing.

One woman threw up in my car while high and drunk. She hit me. And yet, I’m the one who risks deactivation if a passenger complains. That’s exactly what happened recently—someone lied and said I was on the phone during a ride. I wasn’t. But the app didn’t ask. They just deactivated me.

Drivers don’t have rights in this system. We can’t defend ourselves. We’re disposable. And that’s why the campaign matters so much to me.

We’re demanding a transparency law—so riders and the public can see what we’re paid, what passengers are charged, and what the companies keep. I dream of having a tablet in the backseat of every rideshare vehicle, showing the real numbers. No more hiding behind the app.

We also want safer conditions for drivers, not just for passengers. And we want fair pay—at least a dollar per mile. That’s robbery. And let’s be honest: these apps use algorithms to control us. If you decline a bad trip, they punish you by withholding rides. That’s not freedom. That’s coercion.

There’s also discrimination. We ran an experiment with three male and three female drivers in the same location. The men got higher pay offers—every single time. Uber is worse than Lyft, but both discriminate. When we raised this, the companies made excuses about location data. But we were all in the same spot. Their excuses don’t hold up.

What keeps me going is the people in this movement. Our organizer, Cesar Palancares, is brilliant. He helps us plan actions—like our caravans—to raise awareness. Each one shows more truth, exposes more of the reality drivers face. We’re moving slowly, but we’re making progress. I know it won’t be easy or fast. But I believe we’ll win.

We’re moving slowly, but we’re making progress. I know it won’t be easy or fast. But I believe we’ll win.

I do this not just for myself, but for all drivers. Some have dropped out of the movement—too tired, too discouraged. But I won’t give up. I’ve already lost a relationship because I’m never home. My kids barely know me. But I’m fighting for a future where drivers don’t have to live like machines. We are humans. We deserve to have rights, and to be treated with dignity.

The companies are already shifting to robot cars. They want to replace us entirely. But people want human connection. This isn’t just about money. It’s about dignity and respect.

What I want most is transparency and fair pay. I want the truth to be visible to everyone. Because once people see it, I believe they’ll stand with us.

And maybe then, we’ll be treated like the human beings we are.