pray - Second Rate Citizens in a First Rate Neighborhood
When you look at our home as a passerby, you will notice a yard full of fallen leaves, dead flowers and trees as winter has sucked the life out of them. As you drive by our home, you'll notice two second-floor windows trimmed in brown when the rest of our windows are trimmed in white. From the sidewalk, you'll look into our home through glass panes caked with dog slobber, and chances are you'll hear loud barking while dogs stare you down through the crack of a window between our front door and piano. The piano chords will echo their bark. At first glance, you'll notice an unmotorized dented and dingy white garage door. You may even think, "Man, are they ever going to blow those leaves, paint the window trim, or clean those windows?" Some may even think, "That house makes our neighborhood look unkempt." While others may think, "With a little TLC, that could be a nice house." And, this is what I have to say to the judgmental eyes that scowl our home as they walk past each day: We are too busy working, living, and treasuring our lives than to pacify the standards you place upon us in your mind. You are not superior, and we are not "second rate" citizens in this "first rate" neighborhood.
I have news for you. Our dishes don't match. Our floors are scratched. Our stairs are undone. Our bedrooms are cluttered. Our dogs outnumber us. But, our house is a home. It's lived in. It's appreciated. It's warm and safe. At dinner time, the smell drifting from the kitchen will overwhelm your nose and make your mouth water. Anyone is welcome here, and we open our arms and home to those who need us. It is a place of love. And, because of the judgmental eyes that pass our home on a daily basis, I have to frequently remind myself that we are not "second rate" citizens in this "first rate" neighborhood.
A few weeks before Christmas, my husband and I attended a party. We didn't know many people at this party, and thankfully, Matt is a bit more social than I am most of the time. So, of course, he initiated nearly all the conversations we had with other guests. My vacillating feelings had me in an odd mood. These people were about our age-some a little younger and some little older.
A lot of these guests were engineers or were somehow connected to business or finance careers. In other words, they all had careers in which their salary far surpassed that of my teacher salary. And, here's my downfall, I immediately started feeling more clammed up, because I heard their stories of renovating these old homes, of which we live in an old home and I know how expensive it is to do these renovations, and I start feeling almost resentful.
Resentful. You may ask why. Well, simply put, I want the money to be able to renovate our home the way we want it. But, we don't have the jobs that supply us with that much money. However, we both chose the career paths we're on because we love what we do and not because we thought our jobs would get us rich. Yet, I felt resentful of the monetary reward of everyone else's choices.
After resentment subsided because I knew how stupid that was, I felt angry. Why angry you may ask. I felt angry because these are the people purchasing homes in these gentrified neighborhoods that are pushing others out of their homes. See Greenville pushes my buttons in the way they push communities out of their own community because they want to make the area nicer. Why not find a way to work with these communities? Or, why not pay fair market prices for the land instead of some ridiculously low price that won't even be enough for them to restart their lives someplace else? Then, I had to stop myself again. I was being unfair and judgmental. These guests are not the people pushing these communities out of their own community. They are merely trying to find a home to start their lives in as well.
Then, I hear stories they tell of growing up or about their family or about world travels they experienced, and I immediately start thinking, "Geez, must be nice to have lived that privileged of a life." Again, judgmental. I know. I don't know these people's real stories and what they've been through. All I know is they sound cushy when in reality they may not have been at all.
The vicious cycle continued in my head until we decide to go home. When I got home that night, I typed up the following thoughts.
Have you ever felt inferior? In the middle space between I'm more than enough yet not quite enough. I sit between these lines where I'm not impoverished, but I'm not part of the social caste those around me are. I'm educated and with education comes new friendships, but these new friendships come with people from totally different worlds than me. It isn't their fault I feel insecure when I'm around them. I look at their neat and well-designed homes and their William Sonoma glasses and think, "How did I get here? What am I doing here? I don't fit in." I still have this mentality of belonging to another group of people who are rawer in their words, actions, and living, yet I no longer fit in there either. I'm trapped in this purgatory.
Those thoughts aren't exactly fair to others either, but they were my honest feelings at the time. And, today, I don't even know exactly how to express what I'm feeling. All I know is I made myself feel uncomfortable in an environment that was innocuous. I was making myself feel like a "second rate" citizen in a "first rate" neighborhood.
So, why do I feel I have to explain myself to those who pass by our home with scowls on their faces? Am I placing my insecurities on them and making up their scowls? Or, do those who pass by our home really feel they are better than me because their yards are tidy and their homes are professionally decorated? Or, do we all have a false sense of what's important in life?
When we get right down to the matter of it all, none of the ideas I shared are fair to anyone regardless of the perspective we see it from. Why can't we all just smile at one another and say hello as we walk by? Why can't we all offer help when we see a neighbor is having a hard time keeping it all together? Why can't we offer a listening ear when others are talking? Why must there be these dividing lines all around us? Why can't we all feel and be "first rate" citizens in a "first rate" neighborhood in a "first rate" country?
After all, aren't we all just trying to survive this crazy world in hopes of finding at least a morsel of inner and outer peace and happiness?
I have news for you. Our dishes don't match. Our floors are scratched. Our stairs are undone. Our bedrooms are cluttered. Our dogs outnumber us. But, our house is a home. It's lived in. It's appreciated. It's warm and safe. At dinner time, the smell drifting from the kitchen will overwhelm your nose and make your mouth water. Anyone is welcome here, and we open our arms and home to those who need us. It is a place of love. And, because of the judgmental eyes that pass our home on a daily basis, I have to frequently remind myself that we are not "second rate" citizens in this "first rate" neighborhood.
A few weeks before Christmas, my husband and I attended a party. We didn't know many people at this party, and thankfully, Matt is a bit more social than I am most of the time. So, of course, he initiated nearly all the conversations we had with other guests. My vacillating feelings had me in an odd mood. These people were about our age-some a little younger and some little older.
A lot of these guests were engineers or were somehow connected to business or finance careers. In other words, they all had careers in which their salary far surpassed that of my teacher salary. And, here's my downfall, I immediately started feeling more clammed up, because I heard their stories of renovating these old homes, of which we live in an old home and I know how expensive it is to do these renovations, and I start feeling almost resentful.
Resentful. You may ask why. Well, simply put, I want the money to be able to renovate our home the way we want it. But, we don't have the jobs that supply us with that much money. However, we both chose the career paths we're on because we love what we do and not because we thought our jobs would get us rich. Yet, I felt resentful of the monetary reward of everyone else's choices.
After resentment subsided because I knew how stupid that was, I felt angry. Why angry you may ask. I felt angry because these are the people purchasing homes in these gentrified neighborhoods that are pushing others out of their homes. See Greenville pushes my buttons in the way they push communities out of their own community because they want to make the area nicer. Why not find a way to work with these communities? Or, why not pay fair market prices for the land instead of some ridiculously low price that won't even be enough for them to restart their lives someplace else? Then, I had to stop myself again. I was being unfair and judgmental. These guests are not the people pushing these communities out of their own community. They are merely trying to find a home to start their lives in as well.
Then, I hear stories they tell of growing up or about their family or about world travels they experienced, and I immediately start thinking, "Geez, must be nice to have lived that privileged of a life." Again, judgmental. I know. I don't know these people's real stories and what they've been through. All I know is they sound cushy when in reality they may not have been at all.
The vicious cycle continued in my head until we decide to go home. When I got home that night, I typed up the following thoughts.
Have you ever felt inferior? In the middle space between I'm more than enough yet not quite enough. I sit between these lines where I'm not impoverished, but I'm not part of the social caste those around me are. I'm educated and with education comes new friendships, but these new friendships come with people from totally different worlds than me. It isn't their fault I feel insecure when I'm around them. I look at their neat and well-designed homes and their William Sonoma glasses and think, "How did I get here? What am I doing here? I don't fit in." I still have this mentality of belonging to another group of people who are rawer in their words, actions, and living, yet I no longer fit in there either. I'm trapped in this purgatory.
Those thoughts aren't exactly fair to others either, but they were my honest feelings at the time. And, today, I don't even know exactly how to express what I'm feeling. All I know is I made myself feel uncomfortable in an environment that was innocuous. I was making myself feel like a "second rate" citizen in a "first rate" neighborhood.
So, why do I feel I have to explain myself to those who pass by our home with scowls on their faces? Am I placing my insecurities on them and making up their scowls? Or, do those who pass by our home really feel they are better than me because their yards are tidy and their homes are professionally decorated? Or, do we all have a false sense of what's important in life?
When we get right down to the matter of it all, none of the ideas I shared are fair to anyone regardless of the perspective we see it from. Why can't we all just smile at one another and say hello as we walk by? Why can't we all offer help when we see a neighbor is having a hard time keeping it all together? Why can't we offer a listening ear when others are talking? Why must there be these dividing lines all around us? Why can't we all feel and be "first rate" citizens in a "first rate" neighborhood in a "first rate" country?
After all, aren't we all just trying to survive this crazy world in hopes of finding at least a morsel of inner and outer peace and happiness?
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