Tomorrow is the day we are supposed to come together as a country and celebrate all that is good about America: the freedom of just about everything, the pursuit of happiness, an end to taxation without representation, and of course, bottle rockets and barbecue.
America is already pretty great, if you ask me, and has been for a long time. But I'm not foolish enough to actually believe it is, or ever has been, The Greatest Nation on Earth. To the contrary, I am a Millennial, a recent college graduate, and a Midwesterner. So trust me when I say, I know firsthand that things could be a lot better than they are.
With the spirit of evolution and progress in mind, I would like to discuss a topic that has been weighing heavy on my mind in recent weeks. There is an invisible line that runs right down the middle of our society, which separates one group of people from another, and which influences almost everything it touches for better or worse, depending on one's location relevant to this line. Now, I could be talking about any number of imaginary classifications we humans place on one another, so I'll spare you the guessing game. The issue to which I am referring is none other than: poverty.
I've always been aware of poverty, even before I knew there was a name for it, I guess. That fact alone should tell you whereabouts it is that I stand in relation to that imaginary line. If privilege is defined as not having to think about someone else's problem, then I guess you can say this is one category in which I don't consider myself to be very privileged.
I've been poor my whole life. My parents were poor before I was born. They were poor while they were married, and they became even more poor after they got divorced. I may not have known the definition of the term when I was six years old, but I did know that we shopped at the Goodwill and paid for my school lunches one week at a time. Perhaps more influential than what I did know, were the things I did not know. I remember going to the mall for the first time with an aunt and uncle when I was 11 years old and buying a yellow skirt from Old Navy for $20 that I thought was the height of luxury.
It was not until much later in my life, when my path crossed with those who came from more money than I, that I realized the experiences which were omnipresent in their lives -- going on vacations, buying family cars brand new, and making trips to the mall every week -- were the very experiences lacking in my own. I never knew any better. That's most certainly not to say that I was not entirely content with my childhood, reading Harry Potter books in my bedroom and using my imagination for fun, while others traveled around the country in Hollister brand clothing with their married parents and lived in middle class, double-income households with two bathrooms. What's more, I never felt bad about it for a minute, because nobody ever pointed it out to me. Until they did. Kids can be so mean to other kids.
Skip forward to now, and I'd say I turned out pretty okay, all things considered. I found a way to pay for four years of college and I graduated with that coveted degree. Of all the things wrong with me, I wouldn't blame a single one of them on my hand-me-down clothes or my name appearing on the free and reduced lunch roster. In fact, I'm quite proud to say that my family was poor, and that I went without many luxuries that my classmates took for granted as a child. I don't hesitate to see the facts through this perspective, because I know that life shapes you through experience, and I honestly believe those experiences gave me an understanding of the world that those without it, know not.
Because I know what it feels like to struggle, to go without, or to simply do the best you can, I have a greater appreciation for others who are doing the same, and I do not find myself imposing an impossible expectation of perfection on any aspect of life. Inadvertently, perhaps, my parents taught me one of the greatest lessons of my life: how to graciously accept a respectable effort in place of demanding an impeccable performance; and moreover, how to humbly make up the difference between the two.
You're probably wondering why these thoughts have been swirling around in my head, seemingly unannounced. They aren't. Nothing in life is ever unannounced. The thoughts have been brewing in my brain recently because of the increasing number of interactions I have had recently with some of those whose position lies on the other side of that invisible line.
Forget about ZIP codes. We live on two totally different planets. Everything we buy is in a totally different segment of the market: vehicles, housing, clothing, technology, groceries. A lifetime of my mother's frustrating frugality has instilled in me the ability to see the value of almost anything. The relatively short-term profit margins reaped by those on the other side have sufficed to reveal to them simply the price of everything. For those who are accustomed to having everything, nothing will ever be of high enough quality to quench their lavish, insatiable thirst. But for those who do not, and have never, had the means to demand such ostentatious superfluity, "good enough" has always been just that: good enough.
Don't misinterpret my words: I do not think that one side of this societal divide is any more morally superior to its counterpart. I do, however, hold personal experiences and lessons in much more esteem than the number of zeroes found at the end of the balance of any checking account. Most importantly, though, I'd like to pose a question to society as a whole, because I think finding answers is a much more worthwhile endeavor than simply pitting two groups of people against one another (I'm looking at you here, media). My question is this: How do we solve it? How do we address this issue of gross income inequality, which leads in turn to wealth inequality? How do we work together to fix this, as a team and a society, who share a common thread of humanity and compassion for all? What can be done?
Well, to arrive at an answer for that question, I think it is absolutely imperative that we examine our history. How did we get to this point, where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer? What values are we reflecting in the status quo which reinforce these systems of oppression for those on the poor side of the line, to stifle their success, or even worse, to contribute to their continued poverty? Why is it that so many people on the wealthy side seem to cease caring about those on the poor side, once they've jumped the hurdle themselves? But most simply, how can we help each side to truly see the perspective of the other? We have got to come up with a way for us to walk a mile in someone else's shoes; or as social justice legend Atticus Finch would say, to put on somebody else's skin and walk around in it. And all of this comes from love.
In many cases, poverty is a function of circumstance: who you are, where and when you are born, the color of your skin, the language of your tongue, the quality of your education, and the motivation for your actions. But because all of these characteristics illicit so much hate and anger in people, as they fear anything that is unfamiliar to themselves, there is no longer any space within their bitter hearts where love can find room to reside. Compassion and a desire to understand one another and the endless ways in which poverty, or a lack thereof, affects their day-to-day life, must originate from love. Hence, the cure to the negative societal implications of poverty is love.
I'm not saying the cure to poverty itself is love. Love does not pay the bills. But that's a bigger issue for a longer discussion on another day. So for the time being, I can only offer this simple solution to a single symptom of a sick system: Feeling compassion for one another from the other side of the fence simply requires that we see ourselves in each other first, because then we can act from a place of compassion and love. The root of the disparity between the homeless person sleeping on the street and the millionaire sleeping in a mansion has much more to do with their hearts than their pockets, and each one of us as society has a part to play in mending this divide.
