I am poor.
I am working class.
I receive government benefits.
I dropped out of my first attempt at college in Atlanta, and returned home shamefaced.
I used a Pell grant to go to community college and then a 4-year college.
I took a Stafford loan to pay off my final year of college.
I live with my mother.
I only look for jobs at which I am adept, in which I have a strong interest and for which I do my best.
I’m paying my college debts.
I live on military housing as a civilian visitor.
I have a lot of privilege that many other people do not.
I help Mom pay bills, and vice versa.
Do I feel bad? Yes. Often.
Do I feel like this will make me a political target? Yes. I fear that.
It was not long ago, just when I was coming out of college, that I was asked by some of my own family members why I was still living with Mom in my late 20s without a job. I felt targeted over this due to other family passions in which I was not involved.
Am I financially illiterate? I frequently feel like that, even as I try to save money. I still feel guilt over past spending from 3, 5 or 6 years ago. I still feel like an idiot over past spending habits, feeling regret over things I’ve bought.
I wrestle with the “temporarily embarrassed billionaire” feelings a lot. Knowing that I don’t make a living income is sometimes a frightful knowledge.
But I feel like I need to own this, and to not let this status get control of my emotions.
So I will never tell you to pull yourself up by your own economic bootstraps. Not only is that a dick move, but I refuse to propagate the “wealth as a blessing/mark of character” fraud which turns so many people against each other in Middle America.
I own up to being poor. I own up to depending on others. And I’m committed to paying it back by working to make life easier for others.