My grandfather talks about how "poor" they were when he was a kid, though my mother says that she learned from another relative that they were actually rather rich farmers, before moving from Arkansas to California. Whatever the case, my grandfather worked in the local wood mill for almost fifty years, while supporting a family of six, with only a sixth-grade education. I'm very proud of him for that fact. But even though he had a very good union job, my mother and her siblings always heard him speak of how "poor" they were, and how they "couldn't afford that." (Whatever "that" happened to be.) I talked recently of how almost everyone in my extended family has bought a brand-new, upper-middle-price-range car, and how most of them are on their second or third one.
My Uncle 'Phobe once got a job with the local school district, with good benefits, while complaining to my mom, "I'm just a janitor!" He had looked down on the janitors at his high school, so his self-esteem was affected when he took that relatively lucrative position.
One aunt and uncle went crazy for Thomas Kincaid paintings, when he was a big deal. Those fuckers were expensive! And they had three or four, at least, in ornate light-up frames. (Thomas Kincaid "paintings" were mostly a scam, too, paint thrown over prints.) Their house has always had top-of-the-line everything, and if possible, top-of-the-line Christian everything. It was almost as if they had something to prove, financially and otherwise. I was always fascinated by their house, but so afraid I would break something, when I was child. Their house still looks like an "inspirational" Christian bookstore. "Aren't you glad Christians live here?" my mom snarked to me once, nodding towards the two-foot cross on their stoop.
My mother grew up in the same environment of deprivation that her siblings did, and yet she has totally different financial values than them. I can't help feeling that they're trying to get away from my grandfather's "poorness," like it was a shameful thing.
My grandmother grew up actually poor, as far as I can tell. She had to have a new sports car, about twenty years ago, when her two sisters got new cars, and she had to have a new car about two years ago, when everyone else in the family seemed to get new cars. She has also always loved to shop, a lot of shopping, ever since I could remember. (Though I'm very grateful now that she makes my grandfather get out of the house every day and run errands with her!)
My cousin Blue-Butt (he ate blue birthday cake as a baby and shitted out a Smurf) once dated a young lady whose family was rather wealthy. My grandmother saw the girl's mom's car and exclaimed to me, "Ooh! Her family has money!" in a rather odd voice, a mixture of envy and mocking. She pointed out the expensive tires and rims to me, in particular. I also noticed that, when BB started dating this girl, my aunt, BB's mom, started looking for and bought a nice new car.
Why is being "poor," or even poor, such a shameful thing? Why would people sadly run up tens of thousands of dollars in debt, just to prove that they're not poor, or not poor anymore? What kinds of characteristics do we ascribe to those who have more than us, who are well off--especially so that we try to emulate them and sometimes even fit in with their crowd?
Why must we pretend, to them, that we've always been like them? Are they perceived to be particularly good friends, particularly warm-hearted, especially witty? Why do we want these people, in particular, for our friends? Not that they are bad people, necessarily, but--why these people? Why are they sometimes perceived to be more worthwhile to be around and emulate, just because of their privilege?
I understand the feeling of wanting to be accepted, of wanting to be as privileged as someone else, but I believe we must ask ourselves these questions.
After all, if for some reason we are not accepted by higher socioeconomic classes than our own, it doesn't necessarily reflect badly on our character. How does having more money or privilege mean that one is a better person (one that we wish to become), or mean that they are a great friend, or that they are a great judge of character?
And how does having nice things make one feel financially secure, especially if they have to make themselves financially insecure to do it? How does having nice things mean that you are worthy of nice things? No one can get everything they deserve, after all.
I'm not saying it's bad to have nice things. But I do think it's bad to have nice things, and not examine exactly why we want them. And I especially think it's bad for people to try to get into an in-crowd, without examining why they want to be around those people in the first place.
My in-crowd was the board of directors for the local PFLAG (Parents, Family, and Friends of Lesbians And Gays). I got in, even though I felt like I was bluffing my way through it (I told myself I WAS worthy of it, and there was no reason I couldn't be on that board!). And then, when I went to the first meeting, I sat at the same table as people I admired--the African-American lady who taught the LGBTQ-ally workshop I had attended (bucking the stereotype that black people are homophobic); the only out teacher at a tiny local high school, who had had to divorce his wife and start all over again at midlife, to be honest with himself; a man who had helped to start the first Queer student group at his southern college, way back in the sixties, and who had had rocks thrown at him and his friends for it; the ultra-modest, feminist, outspoken Christian who was eager to help me start my atheist group at my community college; among others. And we were all planning how we were going to change the world! I loved it! It was amazing!
I can't imagine ever having that totally amazing experience, one of the best in my life, if I had tried to make friends with them, or be like them, because of their cars, toys, clothes, houses, or jobs. Or even because they went to my church. And I didn't have to pretend, with them, either, because most of them had a closet in their past, anyway, and they didn't care where I came from.
That's how it should be. And that's how it will never be, if we admire people because we envy their possessions.
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