It Ain't Easy Being Upwardly Mobile and Poor

As you may recall, I grew up poor and ended up going to college.  Surely, that’s success, right?  My investment in education and motivation behind this blog stem from the belief that by writing about these issues we can craft a better system that ensures that more people go from poor to more.  I have to say, though, that I read a rather disappointing article in Jezebel that highlights a Cornell study.  The study shows  that poor people who go to college are less likely to marry than rich people who go to college or poor people who don't get advanced degrees.  Especially guys (oh boy...is it stuffy in here or is that just my college degree laughing at me?).  This post will be less study-based and a bit more of a personal reflection on some of the largely unconsidered barriers to poor people succeeding.  It is no small task providing the ideal system that promotes equitable advancement through education, but even if you did that, it is no guarantee that people will (or perhaps should) jump to take advantage of it. 

There are a lot of impediments to a poor person that make you really give pause as you move up the educational ladder.  One of the big ones is that a lot of the information you learn has no relation to your background.  As my European History teacher said, “this class is the story of DWG” (dead white guys).  One of my favorite poems "Prière d'un petit enfant nègre" (Prayer of a little black boy) from Haiti provides the thoughts of a young Haitian boy who laments going to the French schools that talk about history from places he will never know and that take him from walking under the mangroves with his dad.  If you are not wealthy and white, it is really hard to connect.  It’s not that you can’t relate to or learn from people that are unlike you, but when everyone you learn about is remarkably similar to each other but completely different from you…well, it sends a signal.  It says that history doesn’t remember your kind.  School reinforcing your smallness while you are trying to escape it is not the greatest encouragement that you are going to go far.

Even if you, as I and many others have, get past your historical absence from textbooks, you then have to deal with a feeling of extreme guilt.  Every time you mess up, it is wasting all the sacrifice of your family.  When I went to Stanford, I was suddenly in an upper-middle class environment that I wasn’t paying for.  Even as I lived relatively frugally, I’d get to go on ridiculous things like ski trips and wine tasting that I wasn’t paying for.  It is hard to not feel guilty when you are skiing in Tahoe (and trying not to mow down defter six year olds on the slopes) while your single mom is heading to work at the crack of dawn to make ends meet.  Guilt is a powerful impediment to enjoying your success and to even viewing it as success.

There is also the intense separation of points of views that creates big tension between your past and future relationships.  As you get more educated, people start to resent you for being condescending or “thinking you are better.”  It is funny because they encourage you to get an education, but once you try to encourage them, it sounds like meddling or judgment.  To have friends or relatives think you are some out-of-touch, paternalistic know-it-all is a strong disincentive.  In minority communities, this can manifest itself as “being too white.” Meanwhile, you start to resent them for their stubbornness, for refusing to acknowledge that studies have shown that “x” will make their lives so much better.  In this, you and the person who once encouraged you both start to question the wisdom behind upward mobility.

The separation is not just the tension of your differing educational levels, but also of your changing interests.  Typically, you are educated outside of your community if you are an upwardly-mobile poor person (my high school was 12 miles from home in Chicago, my grammar school about 6).  My education got me excited about languages and foreign countries, and conscientious travel is not all that big where I come from.  I really care about buying local.  My mom and I have constant spats about it because she’s very right when she says, “It’s nice that you can afford to buy at small places, but I need to go to Target.”  Likewise, I’m right when I say, “Yes, but places like Walmart are shown to kill jobs in Chicago and you are hurting people just like you.”  It’s an awful catch-22, and it’s an impediment.  What the hell do you talk about at Thanksgiving that won’t provoke a fight?  I thought that was the job of a drunk uncle, anyway.

It is also really hard when people you knew can’t understand what you are doing with your life.  You are an “international something or other” major who wrote a very long paper on “something to do with Arabs.” “Yes, I did write my honors thesis in International Relations on Iraqi refugees.”  “Right, and what is this diplomat thing again? I know you’ve told me, but I can’t remember.”  Then try explaining to people “I work on promoting the labor provisions of free trade agreements.” (blank stares abound).  The thing is that people suspect you are successful, but all the people you really want to impress can’t understand well enough to be fully proud because they get what you’ve accomplished.  It's even worse because they expect you to be knowledgeable about EVERYTHING, and you suddenly get questions like "The doctor says I should get a biopsy, but I don't know...what do you think?"   Try responding, "Ask me about the Democratic Peace Theory, not medicine."

What’s worse is that in the end, you are changed but you don’t fit into your new life so well either.  Your middle class friends talk uninformedly about how to help the poor—your people, what YOU yourself once were—or what poor people need.  People laugh at you when you say that you were on welfare as a kid and were attacked by gangs on the way to school because “what? You went to Stanford, give me a break!”  Worst of all is that gnawing feeling that you’ve changed.  You know you can’t go back, but you can’t fully buy into your new class.  You will buy expensive coffee and think with disgust, “damn, when did I become such a bougie tool?” And when you don’t fit in, that means it is harder to find someone to relate to where you are coming from or where you are heading to, and that is why the Jezebel article notes the upwardly-mobile poor have such a hard time marrying.  

So, to be poor and then successful, you need to overcome leaving your neighborhood, inviting a widening gap between you and everyone you knew, learning new things that you can’t use to help those who once encouraged you, feeling perpetually out of place, and constantly questioning yourself.  Put that way, it doesn’t feel like success.  Plus, if it is success, then why do those who encouraged you have such a hard time with so much of it?   If you are just changing to fit society’s model of success, are you not just a pawn like all the other poor people who feel they lack any control in their government or society?  

These questions don’t get raised in policy circles because poor people rarely get that entry and because these are frankly hard emotions to just put out there.  Class makes people very uncomfortable, so they also don’t often want to hear these kinds of things.  Worse yet, because you escaped and so many others did not, you may not be the best voice for those other poor…maybe you too are different?  

So the next time you offer a voucher to a parent who doesn’t take it, the next time you hear about high drop out rates in charter schools with great results, kids who reject scholarships to stay close to home or not go to college…maybe you’ll understand why.  Maybe you will also get why the battle to improve our education system is not just logistical, political, and systemic…it’s also psychological.