Poor.

            So many times in these blog posts I’m afraid of whining or complaining.  A personal essay is a good read if it's open and honest, but if it skirts into bitching about life then I lose interest.  If I’m writing, I feel dirty.  I go back and delete the elements that are self-serving and an obvious grab for sympathy.  I don’t need sympathy.  Just like you, I need to be heard. 

            I’ve wanted to write about being poor for a very long time. I think I was looking for a creative way in, but I never found one.  So, here is my collection of thoughts on the subject.

            The ground rules:  It is acknowledged that being poor is relative.  American poor is not Indian poor is not Swedish poor is not Nigerian poor is not Guatemalan poor.  In America, there are still differences between white poor and black poor and Latin poor and Native American poor. Severities are different.  My intention is to convey an idea to a specific audience, who are predominantly white people who were either never poor themselves, or think they were kinda poor but were actually just fine.

            Poor is not just the lack of money and resources.  It is a state of mind. It doesn’t make you lazy or make the wrong decisions, as Republicans would like to believe. It is cultural. It is generational.  It is the killer of aspiration.  It is the destroyer of dreams. 

            There is nothing quaint or charming about being poor.  Any media about life as a poor person, like Shameless, makes me fucking sick. The scrappy attitude that promotes a simple life and a tight family because there’s not much else is Hollywood bullshit.  The lack of money of resources takes a toll and takes a toll early in life.  Poverty can crush a family easily. Work and fatigue, alcohol and drugs to escape the pain, and boredom.  So much boredom.  If you’re a kid raised in a world where there is no talk of hope, how much hope for a future will you end up with? 

            I’m nearly fifty, and memories of not having anything bubble up all the time.  I don’t have to look at a photo album, the reminders are there every day.  In the middle- class white people world, reminiscing about childhood involves a lot of benchmark events.  Little league, band camp, summer camp, family vacations, being in the cub scouts, or music lessons.  There are things you learned about life during these times that you can use to relate to others later in life. I had one year of little league that cost $10 and was a pain-in-the-ass to get.  We never went anywhere as a family.  We have no collective memories of a time spent together.  There are no stories I can relay to others.

I never went to summer camp and I never even asked for music lessons.  You get tired of hearing No all the time.  There’s no money for the movies. No money to hang out at the mall.  No money for the fun teen thing that everyone else had. There’s no money for a vacation. No money for a school trip with classmates. No money for any kind of fun. When you’re poor you expect disappointment.  That is the baseline.    

            There are a lot of basics that poor people can’t access. We don’t get braces so our teeth and crooked and unhealthy and lead to expensive problems down the road.  If you get sick you tough it out at home.  And you better not get really sick.  You don’t have enough clothes and forget about keeping up with the kids at school.  If you outgrow what you have, tough shit.  You better take care of those sneakers because they need to last the year. You can’t hide it.  Even if you somehow escaped the shame thrust upon you by our culture for being poor, everyone around you knows.  You wear the same shit all the time, your mom cuts your hair and you ride the bus when other kids are getting cars to drive.

            All the talk is about college and where it will take you.  You know you’re not going with them.  There’s no money for college even if you have good grades and aid, and there is a massive chunk of tuition that has to be taken care of in cash and you know there’s nothing saved.  There was nothing to save. Of course, when you get closer to adulthood you’re expected to work and go to school if you’re at home, and you have to do exactly the same thing if you are on your own. 

            Fatigue.  Bitterness.  Failure.  Cultural pressure.  Every day.

            Work hard!  Achieve the American dream! You’ll get no sympathy here!  The world needs ditch diggers, too.

            Fuck you and your bootstraps.  This isn’t a race to see who wins.  Your kid had the advantages and mine didn’t.  It’s three-card monte.  It was rigged from the start and you need a justification of your winnings.

            Here is the sticky wicket.  This is the root of every discussion about poverty across the globe. The answer to poverty is MONEY.

            Money doesn’t solve all your problems.  These are the words of people with money who are afraid to lose it.  It is not a fact.  It is not science.  It is a collection of words. 

Only rich people or people blind to the problems of the poor think taxation is a punishment. It is the cost of living in a country.  I know this because it’s been going on for millennia.  They cry ‘Socialism!’ when the poor ask for the wealthy to be taxed and they are in desperate need of resources.  (As if that term is like saying Voldemort, or repeating Candyman three times.)  Did you go to public school?  Socialism.  Ever go to the library? Socialism.  Ever call a cop or the fire department? Socialism.  Do you have a street sweeper that cleans the gutters every year?  Socialism.  How about this: Have you ever kicked in a few bucks to buy a birthday gift for a work colleague you don’t give a shit about?  Socialism.

            We pay insane medical insurance rates because we don’t have universal healthcare.  It would cost us hundreds a year on our tax bill instead of thousands a year to private insurers.  Why?  Not enough taxes.  We are leveraged out the ass for our basic necessities and our kids aren’t even considering owning a home in their lifetimes.  These are white kids.  I have to imagine people of color gave up a while ago.

            When money goes to those without it, it immediately goes into the economy.  Debt payments, rent, groceries, repairs, replacing the broken things in their lives.  Every dollar is actively supporting someone else.  When the rich, wealthy, or blind get tax breaks, they keep it.  They invest in stock or their personal wealth portfolio.  Stocks can grow a company, but that doesn’t mean shit for poor people.  You ever noticed when they say the economy is great you can still look around and see homeless people and you’re still making jack squat at your job?  Because the economy is working.  For them.

            It’s a game.  A game implies there have to be winners and losers.  It shouldn’t be a game.  It’s human life.

            Here’s the funniest part.  My wife and I are finally doing okay.  Things are good and stable.  Can’t complain.  We are happy to tread water instead of being six inches below the surface.  But, if I was a rich man, I could have thousands of eyes on this essay.  This one right here.  With an advertising campaign, a few paid-for interviews with some internet people, a few connections I had that were given to me by parents with connections, I could be a successful blogger and writer.  You don’t need to be good or have a valid point.  You just need money.

            Or, more succinctly: You just can’t be poor.