Preface To Shame: Shame Is Taught To The Young

I grew up poor.  My father was literally a sharecropper's son, & my mother came from hardy German working-class stock.  My father split when I was four, or was more accurately made to leave, as he was a drunk & my mother had to get herself & her children away from him.  I suppose he would've stuck around if she had wanted him to.

Anyway, being a child & not being terribly self-aware (it occurs to me that being self-aware might ruin childhood) I couldn't have told you that we were poor.  I knew a couple of facts but didn't seem to want to connect them to some overarching idea:

1) We lived in apartments, while most of my schoolmates lived in houses.
2) My schoolmates had more toys - they had more things, in general - than we did.

One big example is that my schoolmates - & I separate my schoolmates from my friends, since I was mostly friends in the "hanging out & playing together" sense with people who lived in the apartment complexes where I lived- my schoolmates generally had their parents drive them around.  My mother didn't drive - we didn't own a car - & though occasionally my older siblings took us places, they had no real sense of filial obligation & usually did so begrudgingly.

But it didn't seem weird to me because my mother didn't drive.  It was never, "We can't afford a car."  It was, "If Mom drove, we'd have a car."

My mother, however, has always felt deeply ashamed by her low economic status - although, it must be noted, certainly not so ashamed that she might work really hard to pull herself out of it - she never thought about going to school to learn a trade.  She went to work, but the jobs she chose - working at a convenience store or drug store, or a fast food restaurant - were jobs that didn't necessarily require more than the ability to count & a pleasant demeanor.

I have to point out in this long-winded anecdote that I am not trying to disrespect or criticize my mother for these choices, if indeed they were choices - she had six children to support - maybe one or two had left by the time of the divorce, but still, at least three of us were under twelve.  I have never had to do anything like that.  My mother has always been a creature controlled by shame & fear, so the strength it took for her to work to support her family is something I don't think I possess.

As I've been saying, I was completely unaware of our socioeconomic status, & blissfully so.  It meant that insults from the middle class kids at school went right over my head.  I remember once a teacher asked me if I lived in the apartments close to the school, & when I said yes, she said, "Oh, dear."  So they must've looked like an awful place to live - but at the time I was puzzled by her reaction.

Until.  This had to be a few months later.  My mother just turned to me & said, "Are you ashamed that we're so poor?"

& I wasn't.  Because I didn't know we were poor.  Only now I did.  & suddenly I was.