And people wonder about the “poor person’s mind-set,” or “mentality,” or whatever the fuck it’s called these days.
Susie, I almost don’t want to make a comment for fear that it may sound demeaning or cavilier. But, over the course of the time that I’ve read and commented on your blog I’ve wanted to say something relating to the “Death by a Thousand Cuts” essay. Not to be controversial—or, maybe so—-but, I grew up really poor surrounded by all the accouterments of extreme poverty, but my brother and me never “knew” we were really poor. As an adult however, and especially an AA adult, I always felt I’d done well to
( #1), not be incarcerated (since 75% of my generation of black males were either incarcerated or on probation), and (#2), not be dead as many of my chilhood schoolmates ended up early in life. I think this is the first time that I can remember when whites, blacks, Lationos, whatever are all in the same economic boat. I guess I always thought poverty discriminated, but clearly now it has become colorblind!
We were pretty poor, but like you, didn’t know it. (Although the fact that my mother had holes in the bottom of her shoes that she filled with cardboard was a good sign.) We weren’t as bad off as some — for instance, I don’t know how my mother did it, but somehow she always scraped together enough money for us to spend a week at the beach every summer. Of course, being kids, we were just mad that they wouldn’t let us eat what we wanted on the boardwalk or go on the rides every night. That must have been awful for my parents because we thought they were just being mean. We didn’t really understand there wasn’t enough money.
And people wonder about the “poor person’s mind-set,” or “mentality,” or whatever the fuck it’s called these days.
Susie, I almost don’t want to make a comment for fear that it may sound demeaning or cavilier. But, over the course of the time that I’ve read and commented on your blog I’ve wanted to say something relating to the “Death by a Thousand Cuts” essay. Not to be controversial—or, maybe so—-but, I grew up really poor surrounded by all the accouterments of extreme poverty, but my brother and me never “knew” we were really poor. As an adult however, and especially an AA adult, I always felt I’d done well to
( #1), not be incarcerated (since 75% of my generation of black males were either incarcerated or on probation), and (#2), not be dead as many of my chilhood schoolmates ended up early in life. I think this is the first time that I can remember when whites, blacks, Lationos, whatever are all in the same economic boat. I guess I always thought poverty discriminated, but clearly now it has become colorblind!
We were pretty poor, but like you, didn’t know it. (Although the fact that my mother had holes in the bottom of her shoes that she filled with cardboard was a good sign.) We weren’t as bad off as some — for instance, I don’t know how my mother did it, but somehow she always scraped together enough money for us to spend a week at the beach every summer. Of course, being kids, we were just mad that they wouldn’t let us eat what we wanted on the boardwalk or go on the rides every night. That must have been awful for my parents because we thought they were just being mean. We didn’t really understand there wasn’t enough money.