We live lives of privilege as evidenced by the fact that we even have the time, energy and means to discuss and have informed opinions about politics at all.
People who work six hours at one job, then spend an hour and a half feeding their kids and getting ready for seven hours at another job, most certainly do not. We bemoan these people and wonder why they don’t care…hell, they haven’t the time nor energy to care, certainly not about some idiotic thing Trump tweeted about some other guy they’ve never heard of before. They’re too busy trying to survive.
This, to me, is one of the single most important reasons why our economy must have a floor level even if it means creating some kind of ceiling to make it possible. These people are our fellow citizens and that should mean a certain level of dignity and opportunity to thrive should just be a given.
Like I’ve posted before this before, and will over and over and over again, I made it through a willingness to delay gratification in my personal life, insane luck in a few important spots (I run like shit on average but like the sun in the clutch until 2016 ldo), and every class advantage but the actual cash.
And the experience radicalized the fuck out of me. The things I did, the things that were done to me, and the things I saw every goddamn day out there were insanely radicalizing. I went into my political life actively trying to rebel against my insane ex-hippy-ex-menonite anti-war one issue parents, fairly racist, and super duper fucked up mental health wise… and came out the other end of that experience like this.
The main experience for me of being poor was being unable to do anything with a longer time horizon than the next week or two. I sold cars, and was at best mediocre at it. I worked in call centers. I met my wife, who was also a poor kid who wanted to grind out of poverty… and back to back we’ve battled the economy ever since. Against healthcare costs that have gone completely insane, annual rent increases, many moves, tons of student debt, and the rest we’re sort of thriving and most of the long term oriented decisions we made (although not all) worked out.
Coming through a meat grinder and living is not an experience that makes you pro meat grinder. You had to be flying pretty high class wise in this economy to not at least see the meat grinder doing its work. I think this is why our generation skews so hard towards Democrats. The Boomers grew up in a different world, ruined it, and then pretended that it was still the same. That’s why Boomer parents giving you job seeking advice is a meme at this point. Fucking assholes, I’m so envious it hurts. Just imagine getting to be them and get to take all the profit without suffering any of the consequences.
Yes I know how bad the racial situation was before Civil Rights and how bad they are now. I’m talking about a world the Boomers inherited with limitless possibilities… and turned it into this.
That has got to be a super weird trip. I’m half Jewish and half hillbilly… and I can tell you it’s weird af. I’m 100% pure bred mentally ill obviously.
Other than the fact that people never believe me until I show evidence, it’s not too bad. I am definitely living my life as a white person so I can’t really say I know what it’s like to be mixed race or anything like that. I have red hair and a light complexion.
Just that right there is super weird. How many times have people said something super duper racist around you assuming that you’d be ‘on their team’? It’s happened to me quite a few times, and it was weird when I stopped being that way myself at like 20 and I don’t have that context. Actually if I had spoken up and made a problem of it I probably wouldn’t have made it where I am as I think about it.
Yea, white people love throwing out little/big racist feelers assuming you’re “one of them.” I never know what to do other than kind of mutter “that’s super racist” and walk away.
Like the biggest strat is to just ask feign ignorance and ask questions like “what do you mean by that?” For instance, an ex coworker was saying super racist stuff in a group chat about how “they” speak and I tried the line of feigning ignorance and being like “i dont understand, my dad didnt talk that way, how is that?” but then that sometimes just begets more racist nonsense because they think you earnestly are in the dark so I don’t really think i’ve figured out the best way to handle it yet.
I was in a 30 person art class with 4 of us once. I’m not surprised in the slightest. Now let’s do Chris. There’s gotta be 3-5 of you people in here too. Here’s to our parents for being unimaginative and basic. My middle name of course is where it becomes slightly more obvious that my parents were weird.
No I’m not telling, people knowing my name is Matt is one of the least useful strings to matching me to my identity… my middle name doxxes me instantly.