You wouldn’t work under the rain without proper gear, or tolerate it if your boss didn’t compensate you after an accident. So why should anyone else? But that’s not always the case for migrant workers here, who don’t always have people to look out for them. That’s why Dipa Swaminathan decided to step up to help. This is the story of one woman’s efforts to do everything she can – to make a difference.

Portrait of Tammy Strobel

You wouldn’t work under the rain without proper gear, or tolerate it if your boss didn’t compensate you after an accident. So why should anyone else? But that’s not always the case for migrant workers here, who don’t always have people to look out for them. That’s why Dipa Swaminathan decided to step up to help. This is the story of one woman’s efforts to do everything she can – to make a difference.

"Posting photos of Singaporeans interacting with migrant workers on the It’s Raining Raincoats Facebook page is Dipa’s way of inspiring more people to connect with them."


Dipa Swamina than has the contact numbers of between 20 and 30 migrant workers stored in her mobile phone. That’s because she freely gives out her details to them, and urges them to call her if they run into trouble.

And they do. Dipa has received calls asking for advice about unpaid salaries, injury claims, and even run-ins with the law. When this happens, she contacts employers and writes to authorities to get these workers the help they need.

You could say that Dipa became an advocate for migrant workers by accident. In 2014, while driving her son to tennis practice on a rainy afternoon, she passed a construction site where a group of workers was wearing garbage bags for raincoats. A supervisor stood in a sheltered area some distance away, holding an umbrella. The 46-year-old assistant general counsel for telco Singtel was incensed. “These guys were soaked because the garbage bags did nothing to cover them,” she recalls. She pulled over and spoke to the workers in Tamil, asking them the name of the company they worked for. Then she snapped a picture of them with her mobile phone.

She knew it was a long shot, but she called up the company and threatened to take the photos to the authorities, press, and social media if the workers weren’t given proper wetweather gear. She recalls having the phone slammed down on her. But it seems her message got through. When it poured the next day, Dipa drove back to the same spot, and saw that the workers were kitted out in raincoats, hats and boots. It was a small victory, but it showed her that her voice had made a difference.


Growing up in Bangalore in India, Dipa has always had a strong sense of social justice. She visited people in slums and taught them English, as well as volunteered at an animal shelter. Eventually, she went on to study law, with the aim of being able to help others fix their problems. That instinct to speak up did not quieten even after she moved to Singapore for work in 1995. When she found out that trees in a heritage area were to be cut down, she wrote a forum letter to The Straits Times asking authorities to reconsider the decision.

But the violent riots in Little India in 2013 opened her eyes to a bigger problem. “Foreign workers were already a marginalised community in Singapore, but when these riots happened, I felt like they becameeven more maligned. Though it was just a few who rioted, the whole community was painted with the same brush,” says Dipa. Unlike domestic helpers – whom she felt had strong social support groups – no one was speaking up for these migrant workers.


So in 2015, she started It’s Raining Raincoats, a movement that encourages people to carry a raincoat and distribute it to migrant workers they meet, whenever the situation calls for it. It’s since expanded beyond ensuring workers are properly kitted out for wet weather. Dipa now works with about 25 Starbucks outlets to distribute leftover food every week to some 500 migrant workers, rather than have the unwanted items chucked. Besides taking care of these basic needs, Dipa also canvasses funds to buy prepaid data cards so the workers can call home – especially on special occasions like Deepavali. Last year, she spent $10,000 on these cards. “Just as we have emotional needs, they’re no different,” says Dipa.

And It’s Raining Raincoats is not stopping there. Dipa recently added social activities to the mix – introducing yoga sessions at migrant workers’ recreational centres at various locations, organising cricket matches so these workers have a chance to relax and have fun, and holding potluck sessions to encourage volunteers to bond with the workers over a meal. For Dipa, the name It’s Raining Raincoats has taken on new meaning. “It’s not only something physical, but also protection against harsh forces,” she says, adding that she hopes her work can normalise interactions between Singaporeans and migrant workers. Volunteer Anchal Jain, 46, says, “Dipa shows us there are simple solutions to the issues we see, but most of us don’t step out of our comfort zone. People do want to help, but there’s theawkwardness and not knowing how to go about doing it.”

But Dipa never let a lack of resources stop her. In fact, she was on her own for the first year after setting up It’s Raining Raincoats, before volunteers came on board thanksto social media and word of mouth. “We all have the time, it’s just how we use it. Put yourself in the shoes of others less fortunate – it’s one way to drum up the will to act,” she says.

Over the past three years, about 8,000 raincoats and 5,000 water bottles have been distributed to migrant workers across Singapore. For galvanising the community, It’s Raining Raincoats was named the Kampong Spirit winner at last year’s President ’s Volunteerism & Philanthropy Awards.


It’s unsurprising, then, that this is a cause that has grown close to Dipa’s heart, and one that she goes above and beyond for.

She recalls one incident early on when she gave her phone number to a pair of workers, urging them to call her if they ran into any problems. Three months later, she got a call from the police regarding one of the workers. He had attempted suicide, and hers was the onlynumber they could find on his phone. When she visited him at the Institute of Mental Health, he told her that he had not been paid a salaryin six months, and had been driven to desperation because he was unable to sendmoney home. “That was a real eye-openerfor me,” Dipa says.

After assuring the worker that she would do something, she went straight to the police and explained the worker’s situation, emphasising that the real culprit was his employer. Charges against the worker for his attempted suicide were later dropped, and he was paid what he was due.A month later, he came to her doorstep – fully recovered – to thank her.

Dipa is also passionate about helping migrant workers know their rights, and understanding what they’re entitled to. For example, after reading the news about a foreign worker who died on the job while pruning a tree, she took it upon herself to help his family. She went to his employer and the Ministry of Manpower to secure a full insurance payout, which his family would depend on to survive. She also made sure the company continued to pay his salary until the insurance money came in.

Not every day brings triumphs. Dipa recalls an incident in which a worker suffered a neck injury while cutting up steel rods. He came to her for help, but there was nothing she could do. “He was told to operate the machine at a higher speed when one hit him, but the company alleged that it was caused by a preexisting condition,” says Dipa. “There were no cameras, and the other two men there were sent back [home], so there were no witnesses. He couldn’t prove it.” In such situations, when she can’t get an ideal outcome, she does feel like she’s let them down. But she knows she has to soldier on. “For a few days, I feel blue and frustrated, but there’s always the next person to help and more to be done,” Dipa adds.

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"Dipa always carries ponchos in her car, so that she can distribute them to workers who aren’t properly kitted out for wet weather."


Dipa hopes It’s Raining Raincoats can achieve two things: fi rst, to help people become more aware of these workers and the challenges they face; and second, to show migrant workers that Singaporeans care about them.

She and her volunteers are convinced it will not take long for people to see how gracious the men are, if only they could spend a little time with them. “The workers are very polite. They never rush for the items, even when I tell them that my supplies might not be enough for them,” says volunteer Jocelyn Lim, 62, adding that they don’t ask for seconds. Elizabeth Pang, 36, adds that volunteering with the initiative has made her more empathetic. “When I see the workers braving the weather and working in filthy environments, I am more ready to reach out to them by offering cold drinks, food, or just greeting them,” she says.

Even Dipa’s young sons, aged 11 and 13, are on board – as she takes them with her to do food drops and meet with workers. “Unlike in other countries, you don’t see a lot of poverty here,” she says. “I want them to grow up feeling that they should help people in need whenever they can, and these are some of the people here who deserve a lot of sympathy.”

Of course, Dipa continues to make sure that the work they do gains traction online, by sharing photos on social media. She hopes it will inspire more people to do what she does, and create similar communities. “If you are passionate or feel strongly about a cause, start small and don’t shy away from challenges. Stay committed, and take it step by step,” she advises. She also hopes her work will act as a subtle reminder to bosses to treat their workers better. “When worksite supervisors see the public donating to the workers, they naturally take better care of them, because they know people are watching and are interested in the wellbeing of these guys,” she explains.

In September, Dipa will complete a week-long Harvard Business School executive education programme on social enterprise initiatives in Boston. Handpicked by the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy and the Harvard Singapore Foundation for a scholarship, she hopes to learn how to broaden outreach and take It’s Raining Raincoats further. Seeking funding to employ at least one full-time staff member is also within her goals.

At the end of the day, Dipa just wants people to embrace this invisible group of individuals who are building our city. “They are among the neediest people in our society. We can keep an eye out for them in small ways,” she says. “Learning to empathise and connect with others makes us a kinder, more evolved communit y.”


1. Know that people want to give more than just money

It’s more meaningful to give something besides money. For example, It’s Raining Raincoats sends a message of sustainability by repurposing food items and stuff that might otherwise get trashed. People like to know they can align themselves with a meaningful message.

2. Use social media to broaden your reach – big time.

Facebook is how most of It’s Raining Raincoats’ 100 volunteers came on board. The Starbucks food distribution has been running for two years now, and not once – even on Chinese New Year’s Eve or Christmas – have they missed a food drop. Social media is also how this movement gained traction and went viral.

3. Tap an insider’s network

Whether it’s a government body, a non-profit organisation, or a well-connected friend, reach out to people who can help. When Dipa wanted to organise a cricket match for the workers, she contacted the Ministry of Manpower and asked to be put in touch with foreign-worker ambassadors who could spread the word and form cricket teams to join in.

4. Create opportunities to spread your bigger message

Last year, Dipa collaborated with Lasalle College of the Arts fashion students to design raincoats for some migrant workers. She arranged for a site visit so that they could observe the workers’ movements and figure out what would be most comfortable for them. It was also a chance for these students to interact with the workers in a way that they might not normally get to.