Tag: ignorance

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

I’m too poor to give a sh*t

I used to love politics. Back before there was a witty meme to express every view. Back before social media enabled people to share each and every political thought or feeling. I was pumped up about it. I was inspired. I knew what I believed to be true, and felt people needed to hear why. I honestly felt I could change things, I could, and would, make a difference.

Now I just don’t care. I’m too poor to care. Yes, too poor. I never noticed this before I hit the poverty line, but being poor really does make it impossible to care or have concern about anything past what’s directly in front of you. My mind will start to wander on things, then, like a daydreaming child, life slaps a ruler on my desk to bring me back to reality.

I used to consider myself a conservative. I was very vocal about it. If you didn’t work for it, you’re not entitled to it. We should keep what is ours. Keep the government out of my pockets! I could keep going, but you get the idea. As a young 20-something, I looked at life with excitement and possibility. Not everything in life was great, but those are just life lessons. I work hard, I love my kids, I knew I was going places. Those who were struggling, really should just work harder. They really should have made better life choices. I mean, I’m all about helping the poor, but not the ones who are out there fucking up their own life, they need to take responsibility. I’m not going to be their enabler.

I was such an arrogant asshole. The audacity I had, that somehow I was financially better off because I deserved it more? The mentality that only certain people deserved help, and somehow I believed that I had the ability to discern who is worthy? I wasn’t making better choices. I wasn’t somehow more enlightened. But I felt I was. I looked at the poor as this group of people who were in a vicious cycle. A few may escape, but it’s their value system that’s flawed. They embrace ignorance. I would help with Habitat for Humanity, or at the soup kitchen, and pity these people. I would say I cared, and even try to get out there and do things to help, but my vision was still fogged by this underlining superiority I didn’t even realize I had.

I love reading 1984. If you haven’t read it since high school, I recommend picking up a copy and read it as an adult. I have read it at least a dozen times. Each time, I find something new jumps out at me. This time, it is the proles. I never understood them. I assumed, they were probably just uneducated and simple minded. How the heck can they go about life, with everything that happens in that society and just let it happen? Even Winston points out their large numbers. If there is ever to be any change, it lies with the proles. I realized, I am a prole now. My life is consumed by daily tasks. I really don’t care what happens in politics. I just want to be with my kids, and make sure I can put food in the fridge. I look forward to little breaks from the harshness of life, and refuse to spend that time doing anything but stuff I enjoy. I am too poor to care.

It’s quite ingenious isn’t it? This system we have set up? That the rich are allowed to give us just enough to survive off of, but not enough to to feel content? Contentment is a dangerous thing. That’s where people start to think. Contentment is the place where ideas and change are allowed to be born and nourished.  I can hear 20 year old Bethy now, “You shouldn’t be expecting handouts. If you want a better life, you need to work for it.” There is no arguing with 20 year old Bethy. So, I would sigh, smile, and say, yes. I need to work hard.

Conservatives are so selfish. I don’t know if they are aware that they are, but their ideas and thoughts are very “survival of the fittest”. Every day we make choices. Their advice to me, is to be heartless, selfish, and self focused. To clarify, I am not talking about being this way to other’s that are poor. They are suggesting I need to be this way to my own family. Because that’s what it would take. My choice everyday is to focus my efforts on myself and my wants, or my children. Believe me. I could very easily become wealthy and successful without my children. Every daily action, every job choice, every….well, everything, is done with the understanding that I am mother. Forever. I chose to abandon my wants and desires.

I’m not saying liberal is the way to be. Honestly, I feel they are all the same. Their ultimate goal is to keep the poor where they are. They will feed us news clips to bring out what little passion or anger we have. They will encourage funny memes (Because if it’s witty or funny, it’s way easier to get behind than a boring slogan), and I will continue to not have the time or energy to care. I am exactly where they want me.

All that being said, now I have to go. Because I have to take a shower, go to work, and talk about the weather with clients. I will most likely try to analyze current friendships or relationships. I will tell my coworkers about my current life dramas, and hear about theirs. Then, I will get my kids and try to scrape together dinner. After homework and bedtime, I will most likely spend 2 hours scrolling through fb and playing puzzlequest. Then, I will sleep. I acknowledge I am a prole, but have yet to be offered a solution that is currently obtainable. So, I will keep on with life, one day at a time.

It Actually is About Race.

I do not get the paper. I do not have TV. I would say the majority of my news comes from social media. Mostly Facebook. So, after a week of having my new phone, I decided to go through the tedious process of trying to remember, then forgetting, then resetting, my passwords. FB, was taken care of immediately, of course, so the last week has been a “if it’s not on Facebook, I probably didn’t know.” situation. Judge if you must. My life is busy.

So, last night, I keep seeing these statues my a friend of mine. All race related. At first, my response (in my head) was, “quit bringing race into it. That’s why racism still exists. Because people keep perpetuating it by villainizing or victimizing themselves or others.” ….we’ve all said or thought some form of this at some point.

See, I was raised around all sorts. Different colors, cultures, family styles, religions, etc. To ME it never seemed an issue. Color was just a description. He’s black, I’m skinny, they’re young…it was just to give a visual. Connotation with any certain race was only for comedic reasons. (Stereotypes are fun for comedy. Easy material. Haha) You make the skinny blonde girl ditzy and vapid, I will laugh. Not be offended. It’s funny.

Then I read: “It’s not a black problem, it’s a people problem.” Translated “Your feelings of oppression are invalid if they don’t include white people.”

Pause…process…oppression? In 2014? Seems a bit melodramatic. Do blacks really feel oppressed? I’ve never oppressed or would I ever stand for it if I was exposed to it. Hm.

“Consider, that a white felon has almost a 10% better chance at gaining employment then a similarly qualified black person with no criminal history whatsoever. ”

Then, like a train, it hit me. I am ostrich. My head in the sand. It’s the every day that has been wearing on an entire culture. Going to the store. Getting gas. Taking a walk. All the “nothings” that make up our day. How would that feel to be on edge every time you walked into a new place? To feel the eyes watching, or to feel like you did something wrong purely just by existing. I have been judged wrongly and had ppl make assumptions about me. Does it happen DAILY? Has it been a constant repetitive occurrence though out my entire life? No! I am a skinny white girl from Michigan. The closest situation I could relate it to myself was living in Oklahoma. Being called a “damn yankee” or being told to “go back to the north where I belong.” And even that was mildly fixed by just not speaking, adding some “y’alls”, learning to 2-step, and making sure my clothes were never fancier than jeans and a shirt. How would it have felt if I COULDN’T fake it? You can’t take your skin off. You just are as you were born.

So, I finally decide to log into twitter. (After many failed attempts, I figure out which email and password). And it is flooded with tweets and retweets of some city. I see tear gas. I see military dressed officers. I see crowds of blacks with their hands raised. What the Fuck is going on??? And why is this the first I’ve heard of this?? It made me sick to my stomach. I couldnt pull myself away. Tweet after tweet of this town being terrorized by these officers. An boy was shot. This was a peaceful town. These people were unarmed and peaceful. Why is this being treated like a warzone???

How the hell is this going on in the United States? Wake up everyone. See this. Understand how completely horrible, yet possible this is. How do you feel, knowing we live in a place where this happens?? You’re not racist? Then why are you turning a blind eye? Pretend it’s not there. Carry on with your day. That’s what we’re taught to do. You want to know why you can turn away? Because there is not a stigma attached to the color of your skin. My little sister is 9. She is black. My heart breaks with this realization that I was so oblivious to this. I REFUSE to let her grow up in a country that does not see how incredibly amazing she is. I will not stand for her being passed up for a job, or immediately distrusted. Why is she burdened with having to work twice as hard, to even be considered equal? We will take this head on. Because she deserves the same chances I was given. I have no idea how one would even begin to take on changing an entire societies view on a specific group. But I believe that realizing, admitting, and having some compassion and understanding is a step toward it.