- Have a medical issue and no insurance. Nothing life threatening but something that could mean an ER visit.
- Ante up on that, be bleeding, be in major pain, know that you cannot miss work and you cannot afford drugs.
- Be prepared not to be treated or given a 1500$ aspirin.
- Injure yourself. Hurt you back or neck. Understand that you cannot take time off. You cannot get continual treatment. Deal with it.
- Have shady collections agencies calling where you work and your home threatening you when you know you have 20$ in the bank to last you for another week.
- Have 20$ and realize as your period starts you have no supplies and only ramen. Also continue to have to work.
- Deal with the emotional stress of debt, having to talk about that debt. Deal with the emotional stress of dealing with constant judgement from people who don’t know you. Deal with being talked shitty to if you buy a candy bar with your foodstamps because you just need enough energy to make it to your next meal.
- Buy something organic or “fancy” or “healthy” with your foodstamps and listen to what people in your neighborhood say about you.
- Deal with extensive awful coverage of people in your situation on the news and in print.
- Deal with the feelings of guilt when you cannot provide for yourself or a family. Even small things like a nice pair of tights vs a pair of knee highs from the dollar store.
- Go to a job interview in a shabby but clean outfit. Feel people look down their nose at you.
- Do your budget and understand that unless you pay a bill late, you will have no cash or money for small items for three weeks.
- Go without small items for three weeks.
I am so done with people trying to put themselves into the shoes of poor and vulnerable people and only understanding that they are hungry or thankful
Understand that when one is poor for a long time it goes so much deeper than having a shitty breakfast. It impacts EVERYTHING in your life. And if you do happen to get very depressed, or stressed there’s nothing you can do but keep working or trying to work because you want to survive.
If people want to know about these things so bad, how about shutting the fuck up about poor people and listening to what we have to say.
I hate, HATE bleeding heart tourism. If you need to know so bad ask and listen. You don’t get cookies for coming to the conclusion that the life you already have is nice and that being poor sucks.
“I went to a prestigious small liberal arts college in Maine. And like many other people of color who have gone to prestigious institutions of higher learning, I had a lot of white liberal friends. And I am sick of some of these white liberal friends telling me how guilty they feel all the time. How guilty they are, how their whiteness makes them feel bad.
“You know, I’m not impressed. Because if I had the choice between white guilt and racism, I’d take the white guilt every time! White guilt sounds great! Are you kidding me?
“Imagine this; you’re in a line, you’re about to board an airplane. All of a sudden security shows up. They pull a Sikh man with a beard and a turban off, they search his bags. You’re watching, what do you think to yourself? ‘Oh this is terrible, I feel terrible! This is again racial profiling. That man’s done nothing wrong. How ‘bout they search––they should search me, I’m a white man! I could be the next Timothy McVeigh. They don’t know that! Why don’t they search my bags? ‘Cause I’m white. I feel terrible. I feel so terrible. I mean, I’m still gonna board the plane, but I’m gonna feel bad about it, I’m gonna sit in my chair, I’m gonna feel gross- Oh! I’ll write Rachel Maddow an email, that’s what I’ll do! And I’ll tell Terry Gross, and I’ll read my bell hooks on the plane. Yes, see then, everything will be better. I’ll feel better!’
“…to any white liberals watching, remember this; your white guilt is a part of your white privilege.”
— Hari Kondabolu
I LOVE Hari Kondabolu.
—The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer
I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my
inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission
to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.
I have planted by the stars in defiance of the experts,
and tilled somewhat by incantation and by singing,
and reaped, as I knew, by luck and Heaven’s favor,
in spite of the best advice. If I have been caught
so often laughing at funerals, that was because
I knew the dead were already slipping away,
preparing a comeback, and can I help it?
And if at weddings I have gritted and gnashed
my teeth, it was because I knew where the bridegroom
had sunk his manhood, and knew it would not
be resurrected by a piece of cake. ‘Dance,’ they told me,
and I stood still, and while they stood
quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.
‘Pray,’ they said, and I laughed, covering myself
in the earth’s brightnesses, and then stole off gray
into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.
When they said, ‘I know my Redeemer liveth,’
I told them, ‘He’s dead.’ And when they told me
‘God is dead,’ I answered, ‘He goes fishing ever day
in the Kentucky River. I see Him often.’
When they asked me would I like to contribute
I said no, and when they had collected
more than they needed, I gave them as much as I had.
When they asked me to join them I wouldn’t,
and then went off by myself and did more
than they would have asked. ‘Well, then,’ they said
‘go and organize the International Brotherhood
of Contraries,’ and I said, ‘Did you finish killing
everybody who was against peace?’ So be it.
Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don’t know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.
When the Nazi concentration camps were liberated by the Allies, it was a time of great jubilation for the tens of thousands of people incarcerated in them. But an often forgotten fact of this time is that prisoners who happened to be wearing the pink triangle (the Nazis’ way of marking and identifying homosexuals) were forced to serve out the rest of their sentence. This was due to a part of German law simply known as “Paragraph 175” which criminalized homosexuality. The law wasn’t repealed until 1969.
This should be required learning, internationally.
I grew up here in Germany and I have NEVER heard of this. Wow. Shit.