Let's Talk about Class

Class:  I'm weird when it comes to class.  I see class through my own lens of how I grew up.  I recognize that people see things differently, but I feel that moving out of poverty or being (I hate this term) lower class that not much matters after that.  That one leap from being poor to being middle class is gigantic.  After that, it's all gravy. 


Thinking about class always makes me think of being a kid.   I was raised by a single mom along with my 2 sisters.  We lived below poverty level and Mom was always too proud to apply for any kind of assistance.  So, we went without a lot of things.  Food was one of those things.  So, when I think about being poor, I think about being hungry. 

Being poor though, I never felt "lower class".   It's strange.  My mother grew up in an upper middle class home with money and culture and art.  So, even though we didn't have the money thing, we had other things, like classical music, opera, art, and lots of books.  It's a funky part of the way we grew up.  Although we didn't have regular meals on our table, or we didn't have money for the electric bill, Mom would have never referred to us as being poor or lower class.  Mom was a poor snob.  Oh, the irony. Makes me laugh now. :)  


Although she was no longer eating Lobster Thermidor and "summering" in Massachusetts and we were literally one step away from being homeless, Mom never recognized that those days were gone and that they weren't coming back.  She was stuck in the class with which she identified herself growing up. 

Today I lead a pretty comfortable middle class life, although there is no lobster thermidor for me.  I'm fortunate to have a husband who is supporting me through school. My husband grew up poor as well, and put himself through school.  We laugh now because most of our problems are what we call "first world problems."  But I think we both still have some "lower class" sensibilities.   We're both pretty frugal with our money, we save more than we spend.   We live in a moderate house and we rarely eat out (only on special occasions or when I really really don't want to cook). Neither of us has a smart phone. :(  Although I really, really want one I can't justify spending the money.  We're too practical for our own good.  So, I wonder if we're also stuck in the class that we identified with growing up. We are both committed to never, ever being poor again.  


I worry, though, about my teenage son.  I don't spoil him, he has chores and he doesn't get everything he wants, but he has never really had to work hard for anything.  He doesn't have to worry about paying for college, because we've put aside money for that. But will that make it mean less to him?  

His childhood and mine are completely different.  And the funny thing is, I value the weird funky things that led me to become the person I am today.  I certainly wouldn't wish the hardships I had on him, but I wonder if he'll grow up feeling entitled. Am I teaching him good values?  I need to work more on keeping him grounded.  Maybe I'll make him read the books I list at the end of my blog. :)

One of the things that interests me as a future social worker is generational poverty and how to break the cycle. There seem to be many different places in the cycle that can lead to generational poverty and my goal is to find a place where I can make the biggest impact. 

If you haven't read this essay on being poor (I've posted it before) it's very moving.  It's written by a science fiction author who grew up poor, but has become moderately successful. 


Some of the books that had a huge impact on me as a teenager were The Grapes of Wrath,  and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.  Angela's Ashes is another good one. 


The Glass Castle is an excellent book about poverty.  Reading about people who experience living in poverty reminds me to be thankful for what I have and to have empathy for those who have little or nothing.  


Culture Boxes


I have loved seeing the culture boxes.  :)  

Integration

During my second grade year, my fellow students and I were required to take a bus from our predominately Mexican American elementary school on the north side of town to a predominately African American elementary school on the south side of Fort Worth.  This long bus ride was the school district's attempt to desegregate the Fort Worth area.  

What I remember from this time is that I was in a class room of my peers, other bused students, also Mexican American or White, and that my teacher was Mexican American.  I remember that the school was old and had a cloak room instead of lockers and that we were largely keep away from the rest of the student body.  I don't know if this was to keep us separated because of race, or if it was because we were separated due to grades.   

I remember playing marbles with my friends on the playground, but I don't remember hanging out with any black kids. So were we really integrated?

Today it seems that this attempt at integration was simply done to appear to be in compliance with Brown vs Board of Education ruling. Although the decision to end the "separate but equal" doctrine came down from the Supreme Court in 1954, schools districts in the south, like in Fort Worth, didn't begin to "integrate" until the sixties.  Integration by busing remained in place into the early 80's. 

Interment Camps

I read Snow Falling on Cedars several years ago, and I remember watching a movie with my mother about the Japanese interment camps when I was a young girl.  I don't remember anything about the movie, except I remember a Japanese American having his loyalty questioned because he kept carrier pigeons.  He wound up killing all the pigeons to prove his loyalty. This, however, didn't save him from the interment camps.  

This act of racism infuriates and terrifies me.  Many of the Japanese people were American citizens who had been living here for many generations.  We, the American government, decided they were a threat and so they were put into camps and forced to leave their homes and their businesses, and their friends so that the government could keep an eye on them.  They lost their businesses, their homes, their land because their loyalty was questioned. 

As I was reading the NYTimes article, I wondered about the Italian Americans and their treatment during the war.  I googled and found this: Civil Rights Suffered by Italian Americans.  I am amazed because I had never heard of Italian Americans civil rights violations during this time. According to this link, the American government did not want me to know. 

It brings to mind the treatment of Americans from the middle east and how they have been treated since 9-11.  And it makes me wonder, is anyone ever truly safe? Will my loyalty ever be questioned?  Will I ever be removed from my home?  


Besides the readings


Susan B. Anthony has been on my mind today: 

*Join me in demanding that the U.S. House Oversight and Government Reform Committee hold a new hearing on birth control —and this time to have a meaningful representation of women and mothers!

White Man's Burden?

I enjoyed having guest speaker, Diane, from Safe Place come in and talk with us.  She has given me a lot to think about this week.

One of the discussions that we had was on ownership and it brought to mind the Aboriginal peoples in Australia and the history they share with our Native Americans.  I had the wonderful experience of visiting Australia last summer.  One of the places that we visited was Uluṟu-Kata Tjuṯa National Park.  We had a guided tour from one of the aborigines and learned a little bit about their culture.  One of the things I took away with me was that they have no word for please or thank you.  The guide explained through an interpreter that their people don't have these words because they are raised to do what is expected of them without being asked.  This also lead to the discussion of how the aborigines are an equal society.  There were chores that were considered women's work and chores that were considered men's work and they seemed equal in difficulty and practical in nature.  Within a tribe everyone was considered equal and no one was the leader or made all the decisions.  They also felt no ownership of the land on which they lived.  The guide said that the land provides food, water and shelter but that they could no more own the land than they could own the sky.  The idea of ownership came to them from the Europeans and now they have to fight to keep the rights to the place their people have inhabited for centuries.   They were a nomadic people, and they owned what they could carry, and they had no horses or carts, they carried everything themselves.  This was a beautiful experience and I wish I could have stayed longer and learned more.

This is me with our guide who demonstrated how the women carried their things with them including a baby in the crook of their arm.

 The aborigines in Australia were also subjugated and many were killed either through diseases like small pox or through violence.  Europeans came to Australia and wanted to take the land and they wanted to civilize the native people, all in the name of the White Man's Burden, which is similar to what happened here in America.    Thousands of aborigines were killed and dislocated from their families and their tribes.  The area of Uluṟu-Kata Tjuṯa National Park was "given" to the aboriginal people much like reservations were "given" to the Native American tribes.  The National Park is open to tourists including the rock formations Uluru and Kata Tjuta, which are sacred to the native people.  This was an agreement made between the Australian government and the remaining tribes of the aborigines but I learned that the aborigines would rather keep their land closed to the public, but that the Australian government coerced them into allowing tourists to certain areas of the land. The Australian people that live on the land to manage the tour groups all seemed very respectful of the people and of their traditions. The aborigines suffer with some of same problems that our Native Americans, and they have a sadness that has colored their history.  Here is more information about the Australian Aboriginal people.  

Beautiful Uluru at sunset as the moon rises above.

Wow.  This week's readings have given me a lot to digest.  I'm feeling overwhelmed with the thoughts and feelings that I've experienced this week.

Dr. Aguilar's personal story about his ability to overcome the many barriers that could have kept him from pursuing his education gave me a lot to think about.   I am truly impressed that he had the drive, the ambition and foresight to change the trajectory of his life's path by pursuing education and ignoring the naysayers in his life and that he recognizes the cost. 

What this brings to mind, for me, is all the kids that don't have that internal drive, or the obstinacy to use Dr. Aguilar's word, to defy those barriers.  I'm thinking about all those kids whose potential was ignored because of the color of their skin or the expectations set upon them by our society because of their zip code. how could their lives have been different if the expectation was that they would go on to college and to live up to their potential, or if even their potential was even realized.  

When I was a child, a common thing that I heard was that America was a great melting pot.  That all the traditions and cultures had been blended into one great big pot of America. This idea that we're a homogeneous nation of people ignores all the wonderful differences of our society.  American might be better described as a large salad, with lots of interesting textures and tastes and flavors.   You can't just put everyone into one great big blender and make everyone the same.   

Color-blindness is similar to me.  To pretend that we don't recognize that we are all different and may have different needs based on our histories or the histories of our race or culture is an outdated idea and is, in my opinion, ineffective and disrespectful.  We can't ignore a huge part of how we identify with ourselves and with other people. 

We're not the same.  We all have different backgrounds, and worldviews and many of us have experienced oppression in different forms.  To ignore that oppression and racism exists is to ignore the history of our nation and the history of its people of both the oppressors and the oppressed.  

Reading about the parts of our American history that we didn't get in school has been eye opening and jaw dropping.  I remember my father telling me early on not to believe everything I read.   I remember him telling me that history was written by the winners, and that the telling of history changes.  I remember him scolding me for playing "Cowboys and Indians" with my friends and telling me that I needed to be more respectful and that I didn't know the whole story.  Well, the whole story is not pretty. 

It may be easier to sugarcoat our American history so that we can continue to believe that we have a pretty story to tell about the discovery of America.  It's a nice story, but it isn't true.  I'm angered and embarrassed and feel great sadness about how we really "discovered" America and how we destroyed a nation of people to obtain it. And how our great nation was built on the backs of slaves, brought here, away from their culture, away from their families, their children, their wives.....

And how all these things still play apart in today's society and who gets what...