canyonwalker | (Reply)

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Jiminy Christmas, those are all so familiar. And for #3 nobody gets it about how hard it is to be both burdened with clueless levels of expectations (why, you're smart! you will magically become wealthy and successful! and this will benefit the entire family who is counting on you!) and simultaneously constantly rejected just for being you ("intellectual snob" "don't show off" "be nice").

As for #1, when we moved in high school into a middle class suburb with generational money and upward expectations (the suburb, I mean), as well as just enough wealthy people to validate that thinking, I was sent to the guidance counselor for "not fitting in". He challenged me on why I couldn't dress like all the other kids. Which is to say, I had cable knit sweaters, but they were mostly acrylic from Target or Sears or Kmart or lower, but they looked nice and worked fine, but they didn't have a little animal embroidered on the left breast. He actually said, well, why didn't I just buy one officially designated preppy wool sweater with the correct animal, instead of having multiple cheap sweaters? And my 13-14 year old self was thinking because it would have been fine to wear the same sweater every day and no one would notice? Since apparently my clothing was an item of deep interest to everyone else.

I mean, had I known the phrase wtf, that is my thinking at the time in a nutshell. What the hell, dude? I'm getting bullied and getting crap from students and faculty, plus I'm female and I'm getting harassed, and the problem is my fucking sweaters!?!? Again, had I known the phrase, my confusion would have been supplemented with they should all diaf. Which is exactly how I feel about those people and that school.

Also, pro tip. My mom got convinced by that shit by my senior year, so I had one pair of the correct shoes and a correct sweater, which were fucking expensive, and guess what? Do you think I was suddenly an accepted member of the country club? Hell, no. Does that shit leave scars? Hell, yes. I am still getting therapy for the sin of crossing socioeconomic boundaries.

There's so much more. And we weren't even that poor! I mean, we had a place to live, we got food stamps, we were never hungry, and we had medical care because Union jobs, yo. I mean, for a brief period we got free care through the clinics at the local University medical and dental schools, but otherwise we had insurance through the union.

We were worlds away from the poverty my father grew up in, and my mother didn't grow up wealthy but she was worlds away from the poverty of her parents. Although the only reason they could visit family out of town on the train was that her grandfather worked for the railroad and at the time that meant family could ride short distances for free. Her mom was the one who always took and saved the jellies and condiments from the lunch counter or restaurant because Depression. There were drawers full of little packets of stuff when she died. When I was little, I thought she was bringing me tiny soaps and whatnot if my grandparents went somewhere because it was a cute kid sized gift. It took a long time to realize that was partly it, but it was also that it didn't cost money and it was useful.

There's a whole recursive loop to this stuff that screws with you forever.