class rage speaks

A note

Tue, 05 Mar 2013 01:01:00 -0500

Thank you, as always, for your support. Every now and then, I get a little blip of reblogs and such, and I’m always glad to see when people feel they got something positive from what I wrote.

I am not currently active on this blog and I have not been since August of 2011. The reasons for that are complicated and personal, but an important reason is that my life is very different now from how it was when I started this project. I’m married now, I finished my bachelor’s and then my master’s degree, I have a good full-time job, and in general, my life is so much more secure and safe than it used to be. I’m very lucky to not have to be so afraid any more.

Having grown up poor and gone through periods of varying levels of financial difficulty still heavily influences how I approach many aspects of life. My family and others I care about are still low-income. I work in higher education, where class issues are always in play and always frustrating. Class issues will always be incredibly important to me; however, the reality is that right now, I’m not poor, and I can’t speak for that experience. It’s possible that at some point, I will decide to become active here again, but right now, I feel like my rightful place is as a listener, not a storyteller.

Again, I’m so glad when people find things I wrote helpful or evocative or truthful, and I thank you for reading.

Edited to add: When I said that I am not currently active here, I meant it! I will not be responding to messages or reblog comments, as I do not log onto this account regularly, and I am sort of confused as to why I continue to get new followers. You’re free to follow, but there isn’t going to be any new content.

In the meantime: this blog in a nutshell.

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 12:41:47 -0500

Class rage moment: “You should be enjoying being young!”

Encountering the “at least you’re not starving in Africa!” argument.

Class rage memory: when “inclusivity” feels like a joke.

Nine things I wish economically privileged people in my life knew.

Nine ways to be a good friend in the face of economic differences.

Class rage moment: classism in the financial-aid office.

Mini class rage: being a houseguest.

But that’s for rich people!

Class rage moment: the driver’s license.

This is what I fear: class and the assumption of class in academia.

Goodness gracious.

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 12:39:46 -0500

I don’t know what happened here, but I appear to have acquired quite a few new followers. Hello! If any of you would like to tell me where you heard about me, I would very much like that- I haven’t been keeping track very well, and the number of hits I’ve received suddenly this past week has been a big surprise. I can tell that one of my posts has been circulating on Facebook, but I can’t tell where or how much.

As you may have noticed, this Tumblr is current on hiatus for personal reasons. I’m currently unsure as to when I will begin posting regularly again. However, the recent response I’ve received has been very heartening. I hope to begin posting again over my winter break (I’m a student), but please bear with me if it takes longer or goes slower than I would like.

Many thanks for all of your support.

"Can we just accept that fact that being poor, and being on public assistance, means you aren’t..."

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 11:24:52 -0400

“Can we just accept that fact that being poor, and being on public assistance, means you aren’t eating well right now? That the steak and lobster buying food stamp recipient is a straw person? That people on public assistance are not living high on the hog? And that it’s a crying shame that the assistance people get is not enough? You know, call me a communist, but I would love it if people on public assistance could afford to buy the occasional skirt steak, salmon, pork tenderloin or package of dried mushrooms along with their regular food purchases if they wanted to. I think people should be able to feed themselves and their kids consistently throughout the month. I have a problem with the idea that we seem to require poor people to eat gruel and wear rags. If my tax dollars are going to help people, goddammit, I want them to be able to get enough help to eat well. It beats the hell out of what my tax dollars usually go to.”

- You can just… — Feministe (via lemdi)

It’s kind of sad that wanting people, regardless of their financial situation, to be able to enjoy life in some small way opens yourself up to being called a communist. Not that it is really an insult, it’s just sad that being decent is such an anomaly.

(via liquidiousfleshbag)

Class rage moment: "But it's really not that much money!"

Thu, 18 Aug 2011 16:04:47 -0400

On a recent slow day at work, waiting for a phone call to answer, I found myself perusing the archives of the Dear Prudence advice column. I frequently disagree with Prudence’s advice, but it makes for an interesting read to pass the time. Between the standard stories of fights with the in-laws, workplace drama, and child-rearing problems, I found a letter from a soon-to-be father asking for advice about whether to take a great job offer that would force his new family to move far away from the couple’s parents. What caught my eye was the letter-writer’s mention that neither set of parents had very much money, and moving so far away would mean that they were financially incapable of visiting the couple or seeing their grandchild.

I could go either way regarding Prudence’s advice that the writer take advantage of the job opportunity and do his best to also maintain the family relationships, but what really got my attention was her treatment of the writer’s assertion that travel was not an option. She completely brushed this aside, asserting that a plane ticket was “only a few hundred dollars!” and implying, it seemed to me, that the couple’s parents were being selfish and unreasonable to suggest that they couldn’t afford it.

I was shocked at her disregard for the writer’s assessment of his family’s situation. It’s highly inappropriate to tell someone that they are wrong or lying to say that they can’t afford something.* You probably don’t know what their exact financial situation is, even if you think you know. You may know some of the details, but they are the only person who really knows what’s going on and what they’re comfortable with. Sure, family is important, but sometimes it’s just not possible to come together, no matter how much you want to do so. Jeopardizing your living situation or going into debt, or expecting someone else to do so, isn’t exactly a great expression of familial love.

I’ve encountered the “but it’s not that much money!” attitude innumerable times, applied to everything from social events to charitable donations to desirable objects. I’ve come to read it as a red flag, a warning that the person I’m dealing with isn’t taking time to think about their financial privilege and the situations others may be living with. When it’s stated in a general sense, it’s simply ignorant, and when it’s directed at a particular person- usually in an attempt to force them to accept an expense they don’t think is wise- it’s extremely disrespectful.

The bottom line is this: there is no amount of money so small that it can be assumed to not matter or to be worthwhile to everyone. Not “just $20” for a restaurant meal, or “just $200” for a cheap plane ticket, or “just $50,000” in student loans to get an education. Refusing to respect someone’s self-assessment regarding whether they can afford something or whether it’s “worth it in the long run” (or whatever the pleading phrase might be) is just plain wrong, and deriding them as cheap, selfish, or petty for refusing to put themselves in danger is in itself a selfish thing to do.

*I’m sure there are incidents where an objectively wealthy person is stingy in a way that’s harmful to others, but I think that’s a rather different dynamic, and it’s not what I’m discussing here.

Why poor people support tax breaks for the rich?

Thu, 18 Aug 2011 12:59:36 -0400

Why poor people support tax breaks for the rich? :

Why do lower middle-class and working class Americans support tax breaks for the rich? New research suggests it might not be about aspirations—i.e., “Maybe I could be rich someday.” Instead, says the Economist, people are more concerned with how social programs and wealth distribution might help people worse off than them become better off than them.

In other words: Nobody wants to be on the bottom and national economics looks a lot like a junior high locker room.

Food for thought?

Class rage moment: "You should be enjoying being young!"

Mon, 15 Aug 2011 10:42:20 -0400

“Stop being so serious, you’re wasting your youth! You should be out having fun!”

“You’re young and free- you don’t have a mortgage or children to take care of. What reason could you possibly have to worry about money?”

“Sharing apartments and eating ramen are just part of being young- you have to accept that and just focus on having a good time!”

“Reach for your dreams! Don’t settle for a boring job, do what you’re passionate about, even if it doesn’t pay well!”

“You’ll regret it forever if you don’t enjoy yourself now!”

Who hasn’t heard advice like this? Whether on Tumblr, from parents or teachers, or from friends of the same age, I’ve found these ideas about what young people should do and be to be widespread in the culture I live in. And honestly, if I hear something like that aimed at me one more time, I very well may explode.

Having spent the past few years of my life around people who are predominantly upper-middle-class, I’ve become accustomed to a particular idea of what it means to be a young person. Young adulthood, post-college graduation, is seen as a transitional period where the young person is not expected to be fully independent or to have their life fully worked out. The emphasis is on self-discovery and personal growth, the parents are still around to provide financial and emotional support, and the assumption is that whatever money woes occur during this period are temporary. Doing what you love and/or having fun, it is understood, will either lead to or give way to a stable, lucrative career that will fund an upper-middle-class lifestyle. These are the assumptions that lie behind most advice to enjoy one’s youth without worrying about money or career- because, it is implied, someone else will be there to help if times are tough, and eventual financial security is a given.

I find it incredibly frustrating to try and discuss my current situation with people who have this attitude toward young adults. Besides people making assumptions about my life that simply aren’t true- like that my parents can and will help me, or that I can depend upon having a good, steady job in the future- I hate to have my very real financial concerns dismissed so readily. I worry about money because I have to, because no one else is paying for my rent or schooling or ongoing medical needs, because I have had no opportunity to amass savings, because my debt is looming over me and I don’t have the job-finding resources many of my peers have access to as a result of their socioeconomic status. It’s not a matter of just having to eat ramen and share an apartment for a few years. It’s being chronically financially insecure, knowing that I’d be unable to weather a serious emergency, and having no definite prospect of a time when that situation will come to an end.

All in all, I like my life, and I have taken some financial risks for the sake of living more enjoyably right now and doing what I’m passionate about. I’ve gone into substantial debt and endured a lot of personal turmoil to go to grad school, and I’ve limited my work hours this summer for the sake of relaxing and spending time with my partner rather than making more money. But was that all worth it? The latter was, but more and more frequently these days, I’m starting to doubt the former. The personal and monetary toll of pursuing my dreams has been great, and when those dreams are no longer sounding so achievable or attractive to me, I’m starting to feel like it was all a huge, expensive mistake. “Follow your dreams!” and “Do what you enjoy!” were dangerous messages for me, conveyed by well-meaning but ignorant advisors who didn’t understand my true situation, which found me at a point in my life where I was confused and vulnerable.

Perhaps the older people providing this kind of advice to young adults don’t remember what it was really like to be that age- the juggling of responsibilities, the importance of working toward future plans, the fear of insecurity. Perhaps these particular people just didn’t have to face substantial hardship when they were young, and assume that all young people live their lives similarly sheltered from difficulty. Conditions are certainly different today than they were when my parents were growing up; it’s much harder to get by now without a college degree, and the experience of looking for work has changed with changing technology and economic conditions. People of an older generation, especially those who have secure work situations and retirement plans, may not realize this. I know that I’ve had conversations with my own parents where they outright refused to believe how difficult it was for my college friends to find jobs, even with degrees from a prestigious university.

There’s also something to be said for the idea of taking time to figure out what you really want, following your dreams, and possibly enduring some difficulties in the moment in hopes of eventually achieving a loftier goal. Certainly, many poor kids aren’t encouraged or given the tools and information to explore every life path that really interests them. But “You can do anything you set your mind to!” is a double-edged sword; it may represent much-needed encouragement for some people, but it definitely ignores the very real limitations that exist for others. This kind of encouragement may be appropriate on an individual level in some situations, but when generalized or used by someone who doesn’t know the details of the life of the person they’re encouraging, it’s just ignorant and unfeeling.

Not everyone has the same options- or even access to the idea that options exist- and not everyone can functionally afford to wait for a job they like or chase a non-paying opportunity rather than taking a job in order to survive. Some young people, believe it or not, don’t have supportive parents or savings to support them while they take it easy, and have financial problems far more serious than not having quite as much spending money as they would like. Using your youth to follow your dreams and have fun is a great ideal, but it’s just not possible for many young people (including me!) to do that, and dismissing our worries with uninformed optimism not only ignores and misrepresents the realities of our lives, but provides us with one more person we can’t feel safe around.

Perspective and perception: the privilege or problem of living with one's parents

Thu, 11 Aug 2011 13:07:00 -0400

With the economy in the state it’s in, it’s clear that now is a difficult time, financially speaking, to be a young person in the United States. Unemployment is rampant, the job market is cutthroat, and higher education is ever more expensive, sending many people into substantial student-loan debt. I know very well how scary a situation this can be; I graduate with my master’s in a year, and even though both of my degrees are from top-tier schools, I’m still terrified that I won’t be able to find a job that allows me to pay off my loans, live from day to day, and make some kind of progress toward a state of greater financial security.

One statistic I’ve seen mentioned in discussions of this economic climate is that at present, 85% of college graduates will return to live with their parents. I’m not clear as to the methodology of this study, or what exactly it means- for how long? directly from college, or after some time? But I can definitely believe, from other information and my own experiences, that a fairly large percentage of young people are choosing to save money by living with their parents instead of paying for their own independent housing.

Thinking about this issue has required a switch in perspective for me. For a long time, I’ve thought of going back to live with one’s parents as a privilege, connected to the privileges of having parents who can afford to provide financial help and other kinds of support. It’s something that I don’t have to fall back on. There is simply no longer a place for me in my parent’s house, and they can’t afford to support me as well as all my younger siblings who are still at home. Their location, lack of Internet access, home conditions, and general environment would conspire to make it incredibly difficult for me to keep on top of the current fast-paced, highly competitive job market. Between that and the personal details of our relationship, it’s impossible for me to move back in with my parents.

But clearly, most people are looking at moving back in with one’s parents not as a privilege reserved for those of well-off parentage, but as the opposite: a marker of one’s own lack of money and financial security, a consequence of economic disadvantage that is personally and practically difficult to endure. It means giving up one’s personal space and autonomy- very important things- and running the risk of disapproval and teasing from peers, potential romantic partners, or the parents themselves. For a lot of people, it’s not something they want to do, it’s something they have to do in order to stay afloat in a bad economic situation, and it requires distinct sacrifices on their part.

Thinking about this issue is bringing up questions of interest to me about different experiences of poverty and how they work in relationship to each other- how one person’s experience of hardship can be another person’s longed-for privilege, while both are still experiences of financial disadvantage on a larger scale. What do you think?

cognitivedissonance: Recently, The Heritage Foundation released a report on poverty in American,...

Thu, 11 Aug 2011 08:16:13 -0400

cognitivedissonance:

Recently, The Heritage Foundation released a report on poverty in American, largely trying to debunk the idea that poor people are poor. They included facts like the majority of people living in poverty have refrigerators, microwaves, and air conditioners. Never mind these things might be attached to a rental unit of some kind… it’s not like those items listed are big-ticket items, particularly when bought used.

I met a family the other day who, according to the Heritage Foundation, is living in the lap of luxury. I’ll let you folks make up your minds.

I was at the Salvation Army last week and was looking at the appliances. There was an older microwave for $5. A woman in front of me (I’ll call her Ann) at the register bought the microwave and was telling her kids they’d get microwave popcorn again. It looked like that $5 microwave made those kids’ day. Now, that microwave would have been included in The Heritage Foundation’s analysis because she also receives WIC, and Heritage Foundation is especially interested in those receiving federal benefits.

I know she receives WIC, because she asked me if all the grocery stores in town took it. Ann just moved here about three weeks ago and was staying with a friend who was now in the process of moving away. I talked to her for about half an hour outside the store. She asked if I knew which hotel was the cheapest and cleanest, because she couldn’t afford the rent here (college is about to start, so the cheapest rentals are gone) and she’s on a list for a housing voucher.

I helped her put a suitcase on a luggage rack on the top of her car to make room for the microwave in her trunk. She mentioned she was glad to have a place to work and, she hoped, a place to live. I asked where she moved from. She said Denver, and that she and her kids were living in their car for a few months (in the midst of a heat wave) because her landlord kicked her out and she had nowhere to go. Ann said she never signed a lease and the landlord evicted her with just a few hours notice because her two-year-old was too noisy. She was afraid to go for DFS for help because she thought they’d take the kids, what with them living in the car. She interviewed for a job at a fast food place here about a week ago and starts this Monday. She’d been out of work for about 5 months when she moved up here.

I gave her the phone numbers for every community resource I could think of, pointed her towards the hotels I knew were cheap and clean, and offered to help in any way I could. Ann said that I’d helped, that she already knew how to get along the best she could, and that “being poor takes skills you don’t know you have ‘til you need them.”

But according to Heritage Foundation, she’s not poor. She and her 3 kids are living in a hotel here that has a fridge, a queen bed (or two), a $5 microwave she bought, and she’s living in the lap of luxury (as defined by them)? I don’t think so. Their report exemplifies what I (and others) call “Poor people can’t have nice things.” Basically, if you have a very basic amenity, like a microwave, you’re obviously not poor. Apparently, being poor involves some kind of “noble suffering” and if you aren’t suffering Oliver Twist-style, you aren’t poor.

I can see Ann and her kids were struggling. But that’s seemingly not “low” enough for folks at the Heritage Foundation. I don’t care what “amenities” people in poverty supposedly have - to me, one person being one paycheck away from homelessness or food insecurity is one too many. One in seven Americans currently rely on food stamps to eat. And never mind those folks trying to subsist on the goodwill of others and/or unemployment. I’m not going to quibble about a cell phone or a television.

I hope she’s doing alright, the job works out, and the kids get microwave popcorn.

readnfight: Study: Healthy eating is privilege of the rich Nothing new, but I am glad to see 1)...

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 14:05:35 -0400

readnfight:

Study: Healthy eating is privilege of the rich

Nothing new, but I am glad to see 1) data to back up what everyone knows, and 2) strong wording. “Privilege of the rich” is not a phrase I’m used to reading in mainstream news.

SEATTLE — A healthy diet is expensive and could make it difficult for Americans to meet new U.S. nutritional guidelines, according to a study published Thursday that says the government should do more to help consumers eat healthier.

An update of what used to be known as a food pyramid in 2010 had called on Americans to eat more foods containing potassium, dietary fiber, vitamin D and calcium. But if they did that, the journal Health Affairs said, they would add hundreds more dollars to their annual grocery bill.

Inexpensive ways to add these nutrients to a person’s diet include potatoes and beans for potassium and dietary fiber. But the study found introducing more potassium in a diet is likely to add $380 per year to the average consumer’s food costs, said lead researcher Pablo Monsivais, an assistant professor in the Department of Epidemiology and the School of Public Health at the University of Washington.

“We know more than ever about the science of nutrition, and yet we have not yet been able to move the needle on healthful eating,” he said. The government should provide help for meeting the nutritional guidelines in an affordable way.

He criticized some of the marketing for a healthy diet — for example, the image of a plate of salmon, leafy greens and maybe some rice pilaf — and said a meal like that is not affordable for many Americans.

Food-assistance programs are helping people make healthier choices by providing coupons to buy fruits and vegetables, Monsivais said, but some also put stumbling blocks in front of the poor.

He mentioned, as an example, a Washington state policy making it difficult to buy potatoes with food assistance coupons for women with children, even though potatoes are one of the least expensive ways to add potassium to a diet.

The study was based on a random telephone survey of about 2,000 adults in King County, Wash., followed by a printed questionnaire that was returned by about 1,300 people. They note what food they ate, which was analyzed for nutrient content and estimated cost.

People who spend the most on food tend to get the closest to meeting the federal guidelines for potassium, dietary fiber, vitamin D and calcium, the study found. Those who spend the least have the lowest intakes of the four recommended nutrients and the highest consumption of saturated fat and added sugar.

Good note at the end of the article that this doesn’t even venture into trying to eat organic or local; this is just about getting basic nutrients. Also good note that this is just what people can afford to eat, assuming there’s even a grocery store with fresh produce available to them.

Hello!
I had a discussion with someone who was upper-middle class yesterday. I was relaying some of my experiences with bill struggles, grocery shopping, etc. And the only concrete feedback I received was 'Well, at least you weren't starving in Africa. You should be more grateful that you didn't have it as bad."
What's your opinion on this sort of logic? Personally, it's incredibly insulting to compare, especially if the person making the comparison only cares about those starving children in Africa to belittle someone else's experience.

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 19:27:05 -0400

Thanks for asking!

I also have a huge problem with this kind of response. For one thing, it’s pretty offensive to people who actually are starving, and/or who live in Africa- or whatever “backward” part of the world is being used as a comparison. They are actually human beings, not just nameless, faceless, inferior-by-implication masses to be dragged out to make a point and bolster someone’s self-important conception of their own moral superiority. (And not everyone who lives in Africa is destitute or, as it’s often portrayed, in need of aid from those who are wealthy, white, and educated!) For another, it’s offensive to whoever this is being said to, whose lived reality is being bulldozed over by someone who doesn’t seem to actually care much about either awareness about or involvement in addressing issues of poverty.

I’ve run into quite a few of these people myself, especially since I went to a college where most students were wealthy and many were involved in aid efforts in other parts of the world. In my experience, people making these statements tend to fall into one of two groups. Some are very well-meaning, but ignorant; they feel themselves to be rightfully encouraging people to be thankful for what they have- a fine thing to do in itself- and raising awareness of some legitimately horrific situations that exist in the world. Problem is, I’ve found that these people also tend to overlook the fact that poverty exists right under their noses and impacts people they may interact with every day. They may let acknowledging that they themselves are lucky inappropriately spread to assuming that everyone who is “like them” is lucky as well, in the same ways. Poverty is not restricted to Other People Far Away; people in this country also suffer and die because of what they can’t afford, and the consequences of poverty and classism can affect people and communities in ways that, while possibly less dramatic, are still very difficult to deal with.

And then, of course, there are the people who don’t care a whit for poor people anywhere, but are just looking for ways to shut down another person’s argument, dismiss and denigrate their concerns, and shame them for speaking about their experience. Maybe it’s because acknowledging that someone they see as a peer can have their life seriously affected by not having money makes them uneasy, reminding them that this could happen to them too or that they might be complicit in upholding systems that worsen poverty, and they would prefer not to think about these things. Maybe because “stop complaining and be grateful for what you have” is a convenient way to shut down arguments that (rightfully) question the status quo. Or maybe they’re just generally jerks.

Context is also important. The particular sort of classism and concern over money that I experience has a lot to do with my position as a young, unmarried, childless woman trying to succeed in a higher-education setting, manage social situations with wealthier people, and make ends meet in an area where the cost of living is particularly high. My parents, as middle-aged, non-college-educated people with young children who live in a small town, have a different experience of poverty and class issues shaped by the circumstances of their life. We all have our own sets of intersecting issues to deal with.

I don’t think it’s useful or appropriate to try and create a strict ranking of whose problems are the worst- to play Oppression Olympics, as I’ve heard it called. And I definitely don’t think it’s appropriate to tell you that just because someone else has it worse, your own problems- which, it seems to me, are clearly affecting your life in significant ways- are not even worth mentioning. Nothing you’ve said to me indicates that you don’t understand that some people may face obstacles more immediately perilous than your own, or that you aren’t grateful for what you do have. You aren’t petty or selfish for talking about something being personally difficult for you- nor would you be out of line to suggest that these kinds of difficulties are indicative of larger-scale sociopolitical problems that deserve attention.

It’s not that I don’t support acknowledging and thinking about one’s own privileges. That’s a good and necessary thing to do! When I write here, for example, I try to always keep in sight the fact that, while I’m socioeconomically disadvantaged in many ways, I’m also socioeconomically privileged in others. I have a great education, a roof over my head, and for the immediate future, little worry about making sure I’m fed and have appropriate medical care; this means that there are certain experiences of poverty, arguably the worst ones, that I can’t truly understand or speak for. But that doesn’t mean that my experiences and the ways in which I struggle are not real, meaningful, and painful. Being poor continues to touch my life in so many ways- physical, psychological, social, through future plans and current possibilities, through how other people view and stereotype me and my family, and so on. Shutting me down because I’m not “starving in Africa” doesn’t make these things disappear.

Possessed by possessions.

Wed, 03 Aug 2011 11:44:56 -0400

rosewater-sailor:

classragespeaks:

What do you do when you find yourself wanting what you can’t afford? Do you distract yourself? Channel your energies in other directions? Make substitutions? Or do you consciously maintain the mindset that buying and possessing things is not important?

I entertain myself by making up mock-carts in online stores, stuff like that. I have a huge Amazon wishlist full of stuff I know I’ll probably never actually own, but sometimes it’s entertaining to look through stuff and pretend I can afford it, even if I don’t actually hit checkout at the end. But buying things (cheap things obviously, but still things) is something that I do to make myself feel like I have more money than I do - it probably doesn’t make sense but having stuff kind of gives me a distraction and allows me to maintain the illusion of being… not poor, so other people who don’t have this problem could probably give better answers.

I definitely do both of these as well. Online window-shopping is a frequent pastime of mine, but it doesn’t always work for me- sometimes it just makes me sad that there are all these lovely things I can’t have, and sometimes it becomes way too easy to hit the “checkout” button (especially on Amazon) and buy something that I’ll inevitably feel guilty about later. The original post was actually inspired by a recent night spent on Amazon, looking at a particular style of shoe and realizing that even though I had fallen in love with that style, I was never going to be able to afford a reasonably well-made version of it.

I also use small-scale shopping as a way to feel less poor- a little candy here, a new book there, just to make me feel like I can buy things on impulse or for fun, like normal people do. A particular favorite is the bead store near where I work- when I’m buying only a few individual beads at a time, it’s easy to keep my spending minimal. It becomes more of a problem when I start wanting things that are just too expensive for that kind of feel-better spending, especially when I recognize that maybe if I stopped buying so many small things, I would have more money left over for bigger purchases.

Possessed by possessions.

Wed, 03 Aug 2011 10:50:02 -0400

Despite being poor, most of the time, I am fairly content with the things that I own. I may not be able to afford the perfect clothes or every item I would like to have for my home, but I generally like what I wear and what my home looks like. I can’t buy every book I want to read, but I’m content to use the library. I don’t have expensive tastes or costly hobbies, and I’ve become pretty good at reining in my desires in accordance with my budget. I don’t waste too much of my time dreaming about things I can’t have.

But of course, sometimes the longing sneaks through, and I find myself frustrated and saddened by the thought of all the things I can’t have.

I feel rather silly about it. It’s one thing to worry about the necessities- food, shelter, education- and my future is insecure enough that I do worry about those. A new dress, a comfy chair to read in, craft supplies, dinner at a nice restaurant? These things are luxuries that I don’t really have any right to expect or feel deprived of, says my practical mind, especially when I’m struggling in other ways anyway. Besides, it just seems utterly fruitless and counterproductive to lust after things I simply cannot have, and to place so much value on my possessions. (And there are lots of other arguments to be made here, of course, about capitalism, consumerism, and media and cultural influences that push ownership of many objects as a life achievement and the marker of a successful person with a good life.)

Still, I find myself doing it, and walking around with a little lump in my throat reminding me that all the pretty and useful things I see around me- in shop windows, online, being used by other people- are totally off-limits.

Obviously, this is something I have to live with and control if I’m going to be happy and get the most out of the life I have right now, which is honestly pretty good. I have some of my own ways of dealing with these urges. When I find myself craving new craft supplies, I set myself a project using things that I already have. When I want new clothes, I try altering things I haven’t worn for a while to make them new to me. However, these don’t always work, and as I’m likely going to be living on a similar low income for quite a while, I’m interested in hearing from others what they do to deal with wanting.

What do you do when you find yourself wanting what you can’t afford? Do you distract yourself? Channel your energies in other directions? Make substitutions? Or do you consciously maintain the mindset that buying and possessing things is not important?

Conflicts

Thu, 28 Jul 2011 15:27:26 -0400

iamwhoiamandidontgiveadamn:

So I’m having conflicting guilt and it’s really got my life at a stand still right now. Maybe if anyone has some kind of advice, or input….

But here’s the problem:

While I personally am poor, Marcus is not. Marcus’s income allows us to have a nice lifestyle. Big screen TV, xbox kinect, DVDs, Netflix, hulu, air conditioning…you get the idea.

But it’s a lifestyle I see as unnecessarry. I dont really need all the trappings to be happy. And I feel guilty for having these things because I realize so many people dont have access to the bare essentials. And here I am with all this extra…stuff.

On the other hand:

I tend to bitch about this lifestyle that I never asked for, and dont really want. But it is being offered to me. So I also feel guilty about being ungrateful for it. I mean, if it’s being offered, is there really anything wrong with taking even parts of it?

But I dont know what to do to get rid of the guilt on either side.

Maybe if I accept this lifestyle, and use it to do what I can on an activism front? If I donate the extras to RRFM, and our extra food to FNB, and once my anxiety is managble use the time I have not working a “real job” to volunteer with Spore more, maybe start a trans* support group, or a tutoring time once school starts?

Yes, this very much is a first world problem. And I accept that. But if I am going to have a privileged lifestyle, at least on the level of class, I want to make sure that I dont waste it. I want to make sure I use what I can to help rather than oppress people. Maybe I am going about this wrong. And if I am, tell me. But I need this guilt to go away. Having it on top of the mood swings and anxiety is just making everyday shit even harder than it needs to be.

I hate whining about this kinda shit. But is there anyone with any kind of advice? Has anyone else gone through this?

Our situations are different in a number of ways, but I can definitely sympathize with having a partner who is much wealthier than I am and not quite knowing what to do with the privileges that gives me.

My partner and I have been talking about this a lot recently. We moved in together a few months ago, and his much higher income made that process so much easier and more enjoyable than it would have been otherwise. Now I live in a really sweet little apartment that I could never afford on my own, with brand-new furniture, an air conditioner, nice electronics, and furnishings I got to choose for their appearance and usefulness, not just their price. We can afford to get nicer groceries and maybe even to travel eventually, and I get to be sure that if something really bad happened to me, I would have someone to help make sure I still had the necessities.

It’s a strange-feeling position to be in, and not always an easy one; we do pretty well in terms of negotiating our class differences, but it can get ugly and frustrating sometimes. Even just internally, I feel a lot of conflict between the fact that I am poor (in certain ways) and the fact that I live a relatively financially privileged lifestyle now (in certain ways). I have major student-loan debt, but I watch cable on a big-screen TV. I freak out about being able to cover my medical expenses, but there’s usually some good craft beer in my fridge. I would be perfectly content with used furniture and fewer furnishings, but my home is nicely decorated. Personally, I’m still poor, but having my partner contribute substantially to household expenses means I live as though I’m not.

Another complication, for me, is that living with poverty for most of my life has left me with the urge to hoard resources rather than use my privilege to help others. No matter how much I think that’s the right thing to do, I’m not used to having enough to share, and I’m more likely to stash away old clothes, buy and keep too much food, and insist on saving up our money, because I still feel like these things could be snatched away from me at any moment.

I worry about this a lot, and about how it impacts my identity and my relationship to other poor people. Can I still talk about the experience of growing up and being poor here on this blog when, in certain important ways, I don’t live like I’m poor? Will people in my life roll their eyes at me calling myself poor or taking offense to classist comments if I’m not visibly in need? Will I be able to work effectively to fight classism and support poor people- or will I lose my rightful anger, my sense of urgency, and my ability to stay in touch with that experience?

Right now, I’ve settled on doing my utmost not to feel guilty about my good fortune; there’s nothing I can do to change my partner’s income, and to a certain extent, being in a position where I no longer have to be terrified about meeting everyday expenses is an immensely freeing thing, practically and emotionally. But we definitely have some great privileges as a result of his income, and I know that eventually that will sink in. When it does- when I have the sense of security and mental wherewithal to move past taking care of myself and start thinking more about my outside obligations- I know that I want and need to use my privilege as much as I can to help people, but I don’t really know how.

So I don’t have any answers, but I do want to say that I’ve experienced this as well, and it’s difficult for me too.

About this blog and its author.

Tue, 26 Jul 2011 16:35:43 -0400

About this blog and its author. :

I just added a new introductory page- I tend to reintroduce myself every time I get a new influx of readers, but that probably gets tedious for the rest of y’all. If you’re interested in a brief overview of who I am and why I write this blog, there’s now a link at the top of the page as well as in the title of this post.

Class rage memory: when "inclusivity" feels like a joke.

Tue, 19 Jul 2011 12:41:00 -0400

One more year, one more graduation season. I’m not a graduate this year, but in the past few months, my Facebook newsfeed was swamped as friends who were the year below me in undergrad alternately jumped for joy and stressed out about what was to come next. My little brother graduated from high school this year as well, and his life seems to be a constant whirl of graduation parties and preparation for going off to college. It’s an exciting and eventful time for many people in my age bracket.

A little more than a year ago, I was wrapped up in the same heady swirl of events. At my school, graduation was preceded by Senior Week, a full week of parties, special events, and other celebrations, all with the sole purpose of having fun while creating memories and bonding with our class. As I watched my Facebook feed fill up with chatter about this year’s events, fond memories came back to me of my old dorm, my old roommates, and all the good times we shared. But to an extent that surprised even me, that fondness was immediately overshadowed by memories of feeling excluded and marginalized, of being told abruptly in the end that no matter what financial aid and school resources had done for me, I was not like these people, could not be like these people, and did not belong- all because of money.

I started hearing about Senior Week almost from the moment I arrived at college. As we ran through the obstacle courses and other challenges of orientation that forced us to bond with our housing groups, our RAs smiled and told us to remember it well- we would repeat those activities again, four years later, as we reunited with the same housing group during Senior Week. In later years, underclassmen who had stayed to work or help at graduation told tales of the many events, the week of fun and mayhem, the twinking lights and live music of the final Campus Dance. It was known by everyone I knew there, part of a common language and set of experiences used to define what it meant to really be a student here.

And in all that time, up until two months before graduation, nobody every thought to even mention in my hearing that it cost money.

Not a little money, either. A pass to all the events was $100. Individual tickets to some of the events were available, but pass-holders got first dibs; some events were sold out based on pass sales alone. The Campus Dance wasn’t included; tickets were another $20. Want to bring family members visiting for graduation? That would be another $20 a person. Want a chair to sit in at the dance- literally? None to be had, unless you purchased a table for $80 in addition to the cost of tickets.

In the weeks before graduation, spending that kind of money was completely impossible for me. I had just swallowed the cost of having my senior thesis printed and buying my cap and gown- two more major expenses nobody had thought to mention until immediately before they were required of me. My summer housing had an unexpected security deposit I had to come up with. I was borrowing money from my partner to make ends meet and feeling deeply shamed because of it, waiting for a promised check and knowing that my summer job was horribly underpaid. In short, I was a mess, and feeling my lack of financial cushion more acutely than I ever had before.

And then there was this.

There was one other option, mentioned in a small note at the bottom of a long, colorful, and exciting-adjective-packed email about the events schedule. I could send an email to someone- a person I had never met or heard of, whose credentials or ability to assess my situation were never mentioned, and whose confidentiality was never guaranteed. She might decide to give me one of a number of partial waivers available- based on what criteria, it was never mentioned. But oddly enough, I don’t routinely give out my financial information to someone I don’t know and who is represented to me so unprofessionally. And even a half-cost waiver would have left me with a $50 cost, plus $20 for Campus Dance- still considerably more than I could afford to consider.

Besides which, I have a major problem with this method of appearing to promote inclusion. It sets up an event and set of practices as markers of being part of a particular community, hypes and advertises incessantly, and encourages students to think about them as sources of essential memories, rather than as events that cost money and exclude those who can’t afford it. It creates a culture where money goes unmentioned, and references to the cost of events are buried in layers of online content and never, never acknowledged in casual conversation. It doesn’t give poor students an opportunity to plan in advance enough- if anyone had mentioned the cost to me earlier, I would have had time to budget and save up. It expects poor students to be comfortable sharing all the details of their financial situations with essentially random people- not established financial-aid professionals- on demand.

Most of all, it expects them to grovel- to get down on their metaphorical knees, expose and debase themselves to some unknown person’s satisfaction, and beg for the opportunity to do something that the community around them is treating as a given, or even as something that the responsible, reasonable college student would be remiss to miss. Many other big-ticket events on campus functioned on similar premises; emails and posters mentioned in small print somewhere that some fee waivers were sometimes available, if you contacted/begged some random person- sometimes even a fellow student, who certainly had no business inspecting and judging my financial details.

I don’t bear a grudge against the attendees or organizers of expensive events on principle; some things do cost money, in fact a lot of money, and god knows most of the parents and students at my school could afford the cost of senior events. I also don’t have a problem with need-based financial aid in general. That sort of aid got me through college, and if my financial aid officers needed to examine my family’s financial state in detail to give me that aid, I consider that an acceptable tradeoff. But there’s a difference between holding expensive events and and making central parts of the university experience too expensive to be accessible, and there’s a difference between allowing a qualified financial-aid officer to review my financial information and begging a random, unqualified person to grant me the option to be like everybody else.

The purpose of pouring effort into student life at a university is to create and nurture a community, and the specific purpose of building up graduation and senior events into expectations, with attendance assumed for everyone, is to foster and celebrate that sense of unity and shared identity, and to create memories that will encourage students to maintain that identity as alums. Having such a bad experience at the end of my senior year left me with a sour taste in my mouth, convinced that I had been naive to think that I was welcome there or could ever really fit in. I felt alienated from the community that had been my home for the past four years, in which I had had great experiences and learned so much about myself, just at the moment when I was supposed to feel most deeply connected to it.

Sure, I could have decided not to attend these events, and for some of them, that’s what I did. But I didn’t decide these events were important. The institution and its traditions did, and its community bought into that wholeheartedly. On a broader level, the culture I live in decided that graduations are a thing to be extravagantly celebrated and college a time to be nostalgically commemorated, that “memories” are worth any amount of money (which people are assumed to have available) and failing to spend money on such things is wasting one’s fun-filled youth, and that certain sums of money are so small as to be not even worth mentioning or “complaining” about, and nearly everyone I know (including myself!) buys into these ideas to some degree. I can challenge or ignore these pressures, but the fact is that that has consequences, especially for the social and interpersonal negotiations that are already made more difficult because of my lack of money and because I carry with me everywhere the realities of growing up poor. Missing those events meant missing important bonding experiences with my friends, and feeling abruptly disconnected and quite lonely during a time that was supposed to be all about fun and celebrating those relationships.

I don’t know what exactly would have helped this situation most. Increased effort to create more free events? Adding graduation-associated fees to the normal billed fees, so that the students in most need would have it taken care of through the normal financial-aid process? Perhaps even just sending out an email to graduating seniors a semester or two in advance, notifying them formally of the costs surrounding the graduation experience and providing a more trustworthy process for those in need to get help with those fees?

There has to be some way to make communities like my university more inclusive- actually inclusive- of people of a variety of socioeconomic backgrounds. There has to be a way to get beyond assumptions that all students have a certain amount of money, unprofessional, humiliating, and haphazard attempts at aid, and the perpetuation of classist and ignorant treatment of poor students. While my school trumpeted its financial-aid policies and its efforts to draw in a diverse student body (in terms of income as well as other factors), I came to believe that it didn’t actually care very much about supporting poor students, recognizing their particular needs, and making them feel like they are actually a valued part of the student culture.

It wasn’t good for me- it deeply impacted my overall memories of my college experience- and it’s not in my school’s best interest either. If I do use that education to eventually become wealthy, and if I find myself in a position to donate my money or my time to my alma mater, I’m going to think long and hard about how that institution treated me- about the culture and daily contacts that were the cost of its gift of financial aid- before I decide to support it any further.

hey, i just wanted to say that i've been reading your blog for a little while and i love it. i identify with so much of what you're saying and you say it in such an eloquent and concise manner.

i have slightly different experiences than you, in that i didn't always grow up "poor" -- we hovered between poor and lower-middle class until my mother married my stepfather when i was 13, at which time i was suddenly elevated into the upper middle classes. but i definitely hold a lot of my identity from being poor, and from being poor since becoming an adult. i hold a lot of empathy for people in situations such as yours, even if my experiences aren't directly relatable.

i have a question though-- the main reason why i'm so poor right now is definitely through poor choices-- i was a heroin addict for four years, it caused me to become homeless, get a criminal record, have my parents disown me, etc. i have a lot of experiences where people feel like it's their right to shame me for spending money on this, or that, or the other-- because they know that i put myself in this situation, and so now i don't have the right to have discretionary income at all. or that because of my prior indiscretions i should be some financial saint, that i should repent for my sins by never having any sort of fun ever.

it wears on me a lot, but i feel like there's nothing i can really say to these people. i try to "own" my past, and i think i do a pretty good job of it-- i don't have any personal shame about what i did-- it taught me more about the world than i would have ever learned otherwise. however, i still think it's bullshit that people can turn on their righteous indignation when they find out about my past-- like it gives me no right to have issues with being poor, or to complain about it ever, or to try to give a voice to people in my situation or your situation or whatever. what's your thoughts on my situation, and can you give me any tips on dealing with these people?

Mon, 18 Jul 2011 13:24:54 -0400

First of all, thank you! I’m glad to have been useful.

This is a situation that’s well outside my own field of experience, so there’s not much I can say about it. The one thing I might say is that no matter what you do, no matter how exactly you might have found your way into a state of being poor, people will find some way to blame it on you. I’ve had the privilege of being pretty successful and lucky for someone of my background, and even I constantly hear messages about how people like me are to blame for their own situation. I should have chosen a more financially remunerative major in college! I should have worked harder and spent less in unspecified, dubiously possible ways! I should have sacrificed every shred of sanity, every interpersonal relationship, and every dream or pleasure to the all-important goal of wealth!

Point being, I don’t think there’s much we can do about it, unfortunately. My own sense is that wealthier people often feel a need to reassure themselves that they deserve their wealth (because of hard work, because they are good people, etc) and that poverty only happens to people who are bad or who deserve it for not having worked hard enough. It’s in part a defense mechanism- if my money means I am a good and worthy person, then as long as I remain a good person, nothing bad can happen to me that would make me poor, right? Often, in my experience, that involves using every possible excuse to demean and dismiss poor people, no matter what the reality of their situations might be, and with no sense of compassion or sympathy for them as human beings with human needs. It especially frustrates me that even when I manage to convince someone that it really is difficult to be in my situation and I’m really not a bad, lazy person because I’m poor, they often assume I’m the exception rather than the rule, and go on thinking that the majority of poor people are poor because of their own moral failings and inherent inferiority. I still haven’t found a way to deal with those assumptions and dismissals myself, other than to wear people down little by little over time with reminders that I and people like me are people, human beings who are imperfect, but human and deserving of compassion nonetheless.

Blame and responsibility are complicated things. It sounds like you’re definitely taking responsibility for your choices leading to your current situation, which is a reasonable thing to do. I think most of us have made some choices that have contributed to us being where we are, in a sense, even if those choices have been constrained or we’ve chosen to uphold things more important than money. But having made choices that have led to or assisted in becoming poor doesn’t invalidate the experience and the very real difficulty of being poor. What’s unreasonable is that people in your life are expecting you to atone for that by being a saint, never complaining, and undertaking superhuman feats of self-denial. (As an ex-Catholic, I’m also not really a fan of that kind of self-sacrificing atonement, but that’s another story.) You’re a human being; there’s only so much you can do, and you experience what you experience, and you need what you need.

It’s my belief that no matter what you’ve done, everyone deserves certain human necessities, and that among these is compassion. To me, compassion means accepting that being poor is still hard and people still need space to talk about the things they’re experiencing, regardless of how they got there. Compassion means recognizing that people need things besides food and shelter in order to be healthy and whole, including friendships, goals (besides making money), the ability to live according to their ethical standards, and- gasp!- even having some fun and relaxation. Compassion means not treating people as worthless or assuming they’re morally, mentally, or personally inferior because they’re poor. Compassion means espousing an ethic of mutual care, in which our communities exist to help us all survive, grow, and reach our full potential, rather than to pit us against each other and encourage us to build ourselves up by knocking others down.

Unfortunately, it seems to be very difficult to get people to actually live like that, especially people in positions of power and privilege. I wish that people would spend more time thinking about how they would want themselves or their loved ones to be treated if they made a mistake and ended up in a bad situation- maybe then they’d be a little more inclined to treat people with decency and compassion.

Food Privilege Deniers Challenge

Fri, 15 Jul 2011 12:20:55 -0400

tastiejam:

charlie-tango:

Think that poor people are just lazy? That maybe if they would just get something other than fried chicken for dinner they wouldn’t be so fat? Then boy do I have a challenge for you!

For a week:

You must walk or take public transportation for a week. What? Your town doesn’t have public transportation? HAHA, you lose and must walk EVERYWHERE!

If you work at an office job, before you go to the grocery store, you must engage in some sort of strenuous physical activity. This is to simulate the minimum wage jobs that the less privileged have. Doesn’t walking to the grocery store and carrying home bags of food seem so much more fun after you’ve been standing all day/run a fast mile!?

Remember, you can only buy what you can carry. Even if it’s to the bus stop. Factor in time it takes for you to walk/ride the bus home. (Hint: Those frozen chicken breasts will start to go bad! Don’t even get me started on the much cheaper frozen vegetables!)

Thought about going to the farmer’s market? Sorry suckers. The inner cities don’t have farmers markets. Furthermore, most of them are not allowed to take WIC or food stamps. You’re stuck going to your local grocery store.

Ideally, this would be done in an inner city setting. If not, remember that you’ll want to go to the grocery store when it’s light outside. Those neighborhoods often have hazards not present in your suburban neighborhood after dark. If you live on the bottom floor, keep in mind you’d probably have to be walking up stairs too with your groceries.

Did I mention that you’ll have to find childcare for any children you have? It’s that or take your toddler with you on this venture. If you’re carrying a baby you’ll only have one hand to carry groceries with.

Sound fun? Oh, you’re not willing to do this and think that I’m exaggerating? Try googling grocery stores in an inner city neighborhood. Shocked at how far they are? Calculate the time it would take you to get to said grocery store from an average neighborhood using public transportation or walking. Add 10-30 minutes for the bus breaking down and/or you being tired from working all day. Now google convenience stores/mini marts/fast food places nearby. I won’t ruin the surprise for you by telling you how much closer they’ll be.

Are poor people really lazy? Or are they systematically given more numerous and less nutritious food options in their neighborhoods?

(I am not the expert on this, so please feel free to add to this challenge or change parts of it. I’m just trying to get some of these people to put themselves in another person’s shoes.)

@ClassRageSpeaks

Right up my alley.

i just wanted to let you know how incredibly important your blog is to me, especially your personal accounts of your "current situation," i.e. being a poor person pursuing higher education. i am the first person in my family to graduate high school, let alone attend and graduate college, and am now working on my Masters in school counseling. i have always been poor so i feel like i am in a strange position right now, with the prospect of someday being Not Poor... it's just nice to know that there are others in this same sort of place in life. so, thank you for putting it all out there.

Wed, 13 Jul 2011 12:28:26 -0400

Thank you so much for telling me this! It is always so, so good to get these messages, and to know that there are others going through similar things. Good luck to you!

"Poorer people have to think hard about a million things that affluent people don’t. They have to..."

Wed, 13 Jul 2011 12:19:24 -0400

“

Poorer people have to think hard about a million things that affluent people don’t. They have to make complicated trade-offs when buying a carton of milk: If I buy milk, I can’t afford orange juice. They have to decide which utility not to pay.

These questions impose enormous cognitive demands. The brain has limited capacities. If you increase demands on one sort of question, it performs less well on other sorts of questions.

”

- David Brooks. In a article about social research and the benefits it can bring to policy making….and how Congress is seriously threatening to slash it. (via digitalfridge)