Raising A Gentleman (Part 2): Dangerous Boys

WARNING: This post contains content regarding rape and violence that may disturb readers. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.

“James, you pretend to rape her,” said Jack, pointing from James to me. My whole body tensed.

“Huh?” James looked at Jack in confusion. Then he shook his head. “Nu-uh.”

“Just hold her down. Pin her arms to her side and pretend to rape her,” said Jack in irritation to James. It was Jack's game. Someone was supposed to be a police officer or spy. I can't remember which. Someone else was supposed to be some criminal master mind, some kind of mafia boss, except this was not any cops and robbers game I ever played. I was uncomfortable. Still, Jack was my next door neighbor. My family went to his house for dinner. His parents seemed nice. They did short term foster care placements. By all accounts they were upstanding citizens. They seemed to be a good family.

Except for Jack.

“Come on!” he spat, his foot tapping the broken cement sidewalk. Jack was the aggressive one. He asserted his dominance without caring what other people thought or wanted. But we did want to play. Even though I was introverted I needed to get out of my own head. I wanted to be with people for a little while, people I knew. We wanted to be outside. It was north of sixty degrees, the grass was green, and the sun was shining. We wanted to belong. No one else was out. No other kids were living on the street at that time. We were kids. What else were we supposed to do?

“I don't want to,” mumbled James.

“I don't want to either,” I mumbled, feeling the strength of numbers. I felt the danger of the suggestion – the idea of a boy holding me down, against any surface, in any position. Any way I pictured it, it made me uncomfortable. But I didn't know what rape was. I was only eight years old.

Jack rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine!” he snapped. “Just kiss her on the cheek and we can move on!” This was hard enough. This was awkward enough. Whatever rape was, this tiny peck was meant to stand in for it. To compound the strangeness, Jack knew James had a crush on me. Some perverse part of his eleven year old self knew the whole exercise was awkward for this seven year old boy and he wanted to make him uncomfortable. He wanted to make me uncomfortable. He wanted to both give James an opportunity with his crush even while relishing in the pain it would cause us both.

James flushed, leaned in, and kissed my cheek. My face a mask, I withstood the indignity. Jack grinned impishly.

“Okay, let's go!” Jack spun on his heels and took off running, James following quickly in an effort to avoid what just happened. I hesitated, giving them a head start, because of course, I wasn't sure how I felt about the situation myself.

Because I didn't know, I didn't tell anyone. I'm not sure Jack or James ever did either. If they did, they probably never said anything about that particular exchange. They probably never mentioned the fact that Jack, an eleven year old boy, ordered James, a seven year old boy, to pretend to rape me, an eight year old girl, in the course of play.

When I share this story, my husband tells me this is abnormal. Little boys don't play this way. Relaying the story makes his knuckles whiten and his jaw clench. His eyes water in a combination of frustration, anger, and disgust. He repeats himself.

"That is not normal, Alexis. Not normal."

But this was my experience. This kind of experience has marked my understanding of boys and men.

I can pull out a long list of times I have been hurt by both boys and men throughout my life because of my sex. It is extensive. It is disturbing. It is upsetting. It shouldn't be true, but it is.

So now, you wonder, why did she want to have a boy? Because I did. I absolutely wanted to have a boy. I wanted to have a boy so badly it hurt.

Because for me, raising a son would be redemptive. It would be an opportunity for me to raise a boy into a man who was compassionate - who saw all people around him as his equals - as human beings. I could raise an ally, as opposed to a predator. I could raise a gentleman.

And then there was the other side - the reason I didn't want to have a girl.

I didn't want to have a girl because I knew I couldn't protect her. I knew that no matter what I did, I couldn't save her from the realities of the world. At some point, I knew she would be stalked or harassed. I knew she would be offered a drugged drink. I knew someone would call her "bitch" or "slut" or ignore her very considered and valuable opinion just because she had a uterus and breasts.

I know if I had been pregnant with a girl I would have cried. I would have cried so hard, and long, and been so depressed, I don't know what I would have done. Because of boys like Jack. Because the world is so dangerous for women even still. Because men - and women - still don't admit the danger, and still blame women for it, even though the danger is perpetrated by boys and men.

And we raised them. Mothers and fathers raised these dangerous boys. We raised hecklers, abusers, and rapists. We raised them. We raised them because we didn't think about the shows they were watching. We raised them because we didn't tell them about our experiences of misogynist violence and how it affected our entire lives. We raised them because we didn't filter their music and movies. We raised them that way because we just laughed off their hitting the girl they liked because, "Ha, ha! Boys will be boys!"

I plan to tell Kiddo my story. My whole story. I plan to explain what happened to me and what effects it had. I plan to talk with him about what other boys do and say in his peer group. I plan to talk to him about how he interacts with girls. I plan to filter his music, movies, books, and shows. And if something contains questionable content, I plan to unpack it and answer his questions.

It's never too early to have these conversations. I know this because I knew boys - little boys - who were predators. I knew boys like Jack, who made it seem like this behavior was alright, even when it so obviously wasn't. I know if I wait, there could be consequences, the kind that ripple across people's lives. And I can't allow that. I won't leave my son's treatment of other people up to chance. I plan to raise a gentleman, a compassionate ally, a defender of people no matter their type. That is something that requires intention, and hopefully, a community of like-minded people committed to the same.

We can't have boys like Jack running around the world. Such boys do not turn into good men, and we're lying to ourselves if we think they can. Boys like Jack shouldn't be normal. They shouldn't even exist.

Raising White: Recognizing Privilege and Becoming an Ally

You might not know this about me, but I'm white. Like pasty super white. My husband is impossibly whiter than me. And our kid?

Kiddo glows.

I love our son. He is a sweet boy and I hope he grows up to be a wonderful human being. That is why I have to reconcile myself to the fact that I have to work to make him recognize how white he is.

Somehow, against every male disregard for bodily care I've encountered, I have to convince him to use sunblock. Now it's easy because he thinks it's a game and it's an excuse to get attention from Mommy. So it works - although the added treat of going outside doesn't hurt.

Of course, getting him to wear sunblock is one thing. One minor thing in the course of life when compared to the fact that he is white. HE is WHITE.

A white boy, who will hopefully grow into a white man. I gave birth to a potential white man.

Some people will ignore the issue. White moms will ignore the issue. White dads will ignore the issue, as though it doesn't bear talking about. It isn't a thing. Except of course, it is. Being white is definitely a thing.

I like Louis C.K.'s bit about being white. He says not that white people are better than other people, but that being white is absolutely better because it comes with the privilege package. The privilege package means white people can pretty much go anywhere and do whatever we want. We are part of the dominant culture of America. Institutions function under WASP rules. The more WASP you are, the better things are for you. The more WASP you are, the more likely doors will open for you, even if you get caught doing something really, really, bad.

So how, as a parent, do I show Kiddo this privilege? How as a parent do I help him to realize where he fits in this crazy social hierarchy? How as a parent do I show him how he can be an ally? A respectful, compassionate, educated ally?

Well, first, I think Sesame Street is a good start. Seriously. Sesame Street is my new favorite show. It's got families of all different iterations. It's got kids of all different iterations. It's got different cultures represented. Everything in that show emphasizes diversity without coming right out and saying that.

Except for the preponderance of white actors doing the word of the day thing it's perfect, but I think we can chalk that up to Hollywood's failure and not Sesame Street as an enterprise.

So after Sesame Street? Well, I'm sending Kiddo to public school, despite people like Scott Walker or Andrew Cuomo or laws like No Child Left Behind.

Why? Because public school is awesome.

Public school is one of the places where different classes, ethnicities, and family structures can be discovered. Exposure is one of the best ways to understand diversity. Exposure is one of the best ways for people to feel comfortable and embrace difference. It was definitely part of my education, even though no curriculum was involved.

And along those lines, I'm taking Kiddo to cultural festivals. As soon as he's old enough, we're going to volunteer at different organizations that address social justice gaps in society. With any luck, we'll live in a diverse city. If not a diverse city, I hope we will have a home in a location surrounded by people who do NOT look like us.

I am convinced this is the best way for Kiddo to learn about his privilege and to respect the diversity and beauty of American pluralism. I feel it is my responsibility as a parent to make sure he is not isolated in a bubble of whiteness in some suburban ranch home, working on his white male entitlement.

Children are our future. That is true. But nurture helps to shape them. As parents we have to ask ourselves, what kind of future are we raising?

The Good of Mom Shaming

It is commonly understood that each gender has its particular difficulties. Often people say something to the effect of, boys may break things, but girls break your soul.

I don't know if this is because girls are taught to be a a certain way - demure and coy - hiding things until they feel the need to pull tidbits out to throw them in your face at your most vulnerable or what.

All I know is, there is definitely a culture, or perception, of women working against other women. This is incredibly useful for maintaining sexist structures.

Follow me here...think about a few of these sexist structures/circumstances:

Moms do not have paid leave.
Moms do not have enforced support to breastfeed practically (even if it is law).
Companies do not have on site daycare.
Parents are not protected from employer reprisal if their family needs them.
Women still make less per dollar than men.
Women are still less likely to be promoted.
Female students do not have structures to ensure breastfeeding.
Female students do not have guaranteed on site daycare.
Mothers are discouraged from bringing children to work or class.

That's just a taste.

Now I have recently been accused of "mom shaming." Whether that was realistic or not is a different issue. The fact is it was perceived. As such it got me thinking about that whole "mean girls" business.

I have a few thoughts of where this comes from. I think the "mom shaming" thing is a direct result of the above structures. Part of it is the unreasonable expectations we place on mothers to do everything - housework, childcare, and work outside of the home. Part of it is the unrealistic expectations we place on motherhood (perfection) - that if you screw up, you will ruin your children's lives forever.

But there is another important thing that we as women have perhaps ignored on a conscious level - that we are collectively deciding how we want to be as modern women and there is great conflict as to what that means.

I have a particular idea in my head what female identities should look like and how they should play out practically. These conceptions drive my actions and beliefs, so yes. I think certain decisions and actions are wrong. While context is important, it is safe to make generalizations as to what are better choices and what are not. All contexts are not equal. All choices are not good (think: spanking punishment or smoking while pregnant).

That said, I also understand there are tremendous forces pushing women from all sides and it is difficult to balance everything. In order to change the situation, we need to advocate for ourselves as a group. We need organizations to recognize the niche needs we have and we need them to support our needs in the public sphere. We need to recognize that we are still second class citizens and that needs to change.

If women are fighting about this and that, rather than focusing on big issues, it makes it a lot harder for us to get real social change. If we get real social change however, we are better equipped to make good decisions because we have undue stresses removed and much needed support systems. In short, we need to work together.

My conclusion? "Mom shaming" is an important indicator of underlying issues. Those "shame" moments point us to the areas where we as mothers need the most support from society. Rather than getting caught up in squabbles over whose choices are better, we need to take that information and use it to better the lives of women, families, and future generations.

We cannot do this alone, nor should we. It takes a village.

...And Many More: 1 Year Well Baby Visit

12 Month Molar Drool!

Well, Kiddo is now up-to-date. He had his 12 month well baby visit on Wednesday and we got his stats:

30.75 inches long
22 lbs 14 oz
18.25 cm around his noggin

He's just above the 50% according to the clinic. I'm not sure if that's all babies, or just breastfed babies. They didn't get into that. All I know is that Kiddo is now just slightly above average in size.

I knew his growth would peter out, but I didn't realize how sharply it would drop off. To go from 90% at birth to 50% a year later seems crazy...except of course, he's normal. Everyone has always said he was perfectly normal, which is good when talking development. You want normal. I feel blessed to have normal. I really do.

Part of me thinks exceptional would be bigger, or smaller, and it would, but maybe exceptional is also smack dab in the middle. Average is how beauty is determined - the average sized nose is ideal. The average sized eyes is perfect. The average cheek bone is desirable. Not too much, not too little - each body part has a Goldie Locks zone.

Kiddo is the archetype of Goldie Locks when it comes to his body. I mean, he does have really small feet (Is that a thing for guys in mainland China? If it is, I think Kiddo could totally win that game!) and his torso is slightly longer and, okay, his hips are kind of wide... but that's nit picking. Just a cursory glance and you'd think this kid is perfect. And really, that's what parents want. That's what I wanted.

The crazy active nursing that involves butts hiked high into the air and legs going straight up past my ears is no thang compared to having a developmentally on target kid. The sassiness and explosive temper tantrums that began at 9 months or so is not a problem at all. I don't mind.

I don't mind because Kiddo hits every milestone like clockwork. My pregnancy was like that too. Everything was textbook when it came to the nausea coming  or going, the kicks being felt, his measurements in the ultrasounds etc etc. In many ways, the whole process has been perfectly average. And I thank GOD every day that it is. With everything else topsy turvy in my life, I couldn't handle Kiddo being sick. I would break. Permanently.

And because I can't handle Kiddo being sick, I was even more grateful for the series of expensive vaccines he got courtesy of MediCal. Because of insurance issues throughout his short life, Kiddo was behind on his shots. It really bothered me. I'm not one of those women who doesn't believe in scientific inquiry. On the contrary, I read and research a ton about various aspects of child health so that I can make informed decisions.

I'd like Kiddo to not die of a preventable illness, or become deaf, or sterile, or crippled for life because I was too crazy not to vaccinate. That is not a gamble I'm willing to make. Not even remotely. So I don't cry when I have to hold Kiddo still so he can get both thighs and arms pricked while he's screaming his head off. I feel relieved when he has a low grade fever and a little bruise next to the injection site because he has an injection site.

Happy Birthday Baby!

...and thanks Obama.

I have to thank the President once again for making health care available to the pleblic. Kiddo might be naturally healthy and perfect to look at, but I need a little help to keep him that way. It's nice to know I won't have to worry about something as important as my child's health.

The Most Important Job In The World

Governments, foundations, and corporations have invested in the wrong things. The wrong people are getting too much for what they do and the right people are getting too little.

Of course I'm speaking about mothers.

More than ever I'm convinced mothers do the most important job in the entire world (with dads being second). Here's why:

1. The breast is best - and can only be provided by a mother.
2. The time in the womb helps set the stage for a child's life.
3. When a baby is crying, for any reason, when given to his mother, he calms down immediately (even if the problem isn't addressed right away).
4. When looking at family photos, babies stare at pictures of their mothers more than anyone else.
5. When a mother walks into a room, her baby smiles big just because he sees her.
6. Scientists have said that a mother's voice is the most soothing sound in the world to her baby (even if that baby is an adult!).
7. A mom's smell is the best smell to her baby.
8. A mother's support is the most important support a person can receive - it didn't matter to a child if no one thought he were good in the play, as long as his mother did.
9. Even the smallest parenting decisions by a mother have a huge impact on a child for the rest of his life.
10. A bad relationship with one's mother can have horrible psychological consequences.

I know these things. I see them with kiddo.

One of the first ways kiddo showed his superbaby status was through manipulation. Let me explain. When he was very young, he wanted to eat even more often than he does now (unbelievable, but true!). So when he fussed he was given to me. When he rooted, he was given to me. So he started fussing or rooting whenever he heard my voice and wasn't with me. He'd be given to me and not be hungry. He just wanted me to hold him. He just wanted snuggles with mommy.

While I know if I disappeared for some reason kiddo would have tons of people to love and care for him, I also know there would be a hole for him. I know this because more often than not, I'm the only person who can comfort him. He sleeps better when I'm near. He eats more when it's from me. He smiles more when I'm around. I see the difference. It makes Christian jealous, bless his heart, but there's nothing I can do about it. This is what it means to be a mother.

This is why it is so wrong to mock someone's mother. This is why it's so wrong to attack a mother. Mothers are how humanity continues. Mothers make the world work. Mothers care, and love, and support, and lift us up. This is the job of "mother" and I can't imagine a more important one in the entire world.

And while I understand this, all children go through a period of time when they separate from their mothers and suddenly the mother gets trampled on by the teenage need for independence and a hormonally charged ego. It isn't until much later, when that teen becomes a parent that he or she suddenly understands the depth of value he or she had in his or her mother.

Knowing this, I wake up every day wanting to do right by kiddo. Maybe when he's older he'll read this and know that I was always hoping I wasn't doing too much or not enough - that I was worried I would screw it up. Maybe he'll realize how I measured every action, knowing how much of an impact every little touch and expression could have. Maybe he'll realize then just how important I am, the way he does now, simply the person who makes him feel safe and warm.

Pregnancy: Bringing Out the Best and Worst in People

There's nothing like pregnancy to bring out the best in people. You will see people open doors, let you go ahead in bathroom lines, get you chairs, and serve you because well, you need those things. You can't function without this kind of extra help (I mean, try picking something up off the floor when your center of gravity has completely changed in the span of a week!).

The remarkable thing is that so many people *don't* do those things. I have discovered, especially during the last few months, that while there are some exceptionally wonderful people on this planet, there are also some real schmucks.

I've crossed the street (in the crosswalk WITH the light) and been nearly run over by cars. I stood outside crowded restaurants and had many people notice me without one offering me a chair. I've walked down the street and had smokers continue to smoke their cigarettes without moving them away from me (despite my huge belly). I've been in restaurants and had to wait 40 minutes for someone to take my order (or even drinks!) at 5 months pregnant, all while multiple servers walked past my table. I've had doors slam in my face even though I've been told I look big enough to carry twins (which as every prego lady knows, everyone thinks we all are carrying twins...until you see someone who actually is).

I often wonder if fellow drivers wouldn't honk at me or cut me off if they knew I was pregnant.

It disturbs me how many people act with such a horrible level of incivility and carelessness. What if I was carrying the next Gandhi? Biko? Romero? Pele? You can't know (I could also be carrying the next Manson, but let's hope things swing the other way!).

But the problem isn't the potential of this new person I'm carrying inside me. The problem is that as a prego lady, I'm the canary in the coal mine. I'm an indicator of the direction of society. How people treat me, shows just where we are as a society (and tells you a great deal about the morals and values of the people in a given location).

Interestingly, I met with a great deal of care from strangers in Santa Barbara, Gilroy, and in King City. In Berkeley however, land of grand-standing and championing the voiceless, I was met with...none. Seriously (how embarrassing for you Berkeley!). People saw me - saw my belly - and continued to behave as if I needed no special treatment (like a chair, or well, anything). In fact, most places in the Bay I have received very little care or courtesy from strangers. It's actually rather shocking.

I don't know why the Bay is so discourteous. I don't know why big causes are so much more attractive than personal ones, but surely someone should look into this business.

All I can say is that kiddo is going to learn that holding doors, and offering chairs is no less important than saying "please" and "thank you." In fact, most people would say actions speak louder than words. But of course, it doesn't mean much to just say it.

The Pants and The Skirt or Give and Take

I'm trying to figure out the pragmatic way to say things - to say things in such a way that doesn't step on toes or isn't oversharing. I mean, this is the internet. Not only do millions of people have access to every post I put up (not that they're reading them necessarily - I mean, seriously!) but the NSA could be analyzing my word choices (not like there's anything interesting to them on here either...but I guess they could get bored sometimes).

The pragmatic thing to say is I'm frustrated.

Not only am I frustrated, but I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed at things outside of my control, and I'm frustrated by the responses and reactions of others who don't seem to get it.

It all comes back to the role of wife and mother and the expectations around give and take.

For a long time women were expected to be perfect housewives. We were supposed to be Donna Reed with beautiful dresses, perfectly made-up faces, smiling as we vacuumed in high heels. We were supposed to wash the dishes at a time that wouldn't disturb our husbands. We were supposed to speak softly and tread lightly and let our husbands decide our fates, even if we manipulated them into making those decisions - ultimately it was their decisions. Our glory was producing beautiful well-rounded smiling children. Their successes were our successes. Our lives were meant to revolve around our husbands and our children, and outside of this, we had no lives. Domestic felicity was of utmost importance. We were meant to be the consummate givers, never meant to take. What could we possibly need?

Yeah right.

While some of the subservient role of wife and mother have disappeared, there are still parts of the social order that expect these things. There is the whole "super mom" concept which in many ways, is worse than the old Donna Reed ideal. Not only are we meant to cook, clean, and raise our children, but we're also expected to be a part of social organizations and work a full time job.

And husbands are supposed to do.... what exactly?

Though in the last ten years or so the "super mom" concept has eased somewhat, there is still this idea that women should give. Some of it is from society at large (read: men) but some of it is from ourselves. Thus our relationships with the opposite sex become marked by this idea that women give. We don't take. Our needs are subservient to those around us.

Clearly if we ever want to have an equal society women are going to have to change this belief. We have to take what we need. We have to be open to receiving the things that will make us not only satisfied, but fulfilled. Sometimes men are going to have to cook, clean, and even stay home with the kids (and many of them do - and that is awesome!). Sometimes women are going to have to be the ones to make the decisions that change the direction the family is going. Sometimes men are going to have to sacrifice things for the good of the family. Sometimes women are going to need to wear "the pants" so to speak, and sometimes men are going to have to wear "the skirt" (I say this despite the cringe it puts on my face...but humor me.).

So while we're remaking ourselves, let's slowly take steps in that direction. Both men and women can work towards this - it's not just a problem with women (though we certainly can't stand by on the sidelines). And I'll dream of Finland (they're super egalitarian there).

Problems with the American Dream or Part 2

Today I'm going to talk about some sensitive issues that affect a lot of young families (as well as others) and are major concerns when it comes to how I see kiddo's future.

Last night I posted my story as an example (or at least an indicator) of some of the structural problems that plague America and thereby affect American families (I know this sounds academic and horrible, but bear with me. It's important). In that post I mentioned the following issues:

1. Large student loan debts (with little practical relief)
2. Oversupply of educated labor in the market
3. Low real wages (even in skilled positions)
4. The high costs of health care (with and without insurance)
5. Structural problems with eligibility of government benefits (and the clear need for benefits with the above mentioned conditions)

So let's unpack these one at a time.

Student Loan Debt

Lately there's been a lot of news about student loan debt, in part because the interest rates on loans were allowed to double. It was, at least when I was in high school, that anyone who wanted to make anything of themselves needed to go to college. So, millions signed promissory notes gleefully, as this was the only way we could pay for schooling. Now, of course, with the high debt amounts (and higher interest rates from that period) combined with poor job prospects, student loan debt is absolutely crushing.

Remember what I said in my last post? Our student loan payments are 30% of our income (well our previous income). That's the rent of a nice studio apartment in Oakland, or a mechanic's special off Craigslist, or maybe even a haute couture stroller (because that's my main concern right now - if I'm as fashionable as moms living in the Presidio). Needless to say, the money coming in isn't enough to cover the required money out.

And are there options for relief? Not really. Not for the average person. And that's a big problem.

Oversupply of Labor

This brings me to the first problem relating to job prospects - too many educated people vying for the same jobs (many of them dinky jobs). I explained in my last post how there were too many people like me in the Bay to allow me to get a good job. Pretty much everywhere else (a.k.a. podunk towns, small cities, and medium sized cities) I'd be able to find something that used my skill set, but in large cities and those with multiple colleges and or universities, the prospects are bleak.

The result is a ton of overqualified employees in stupid jobs which don't pay enough to pay off student debt...or anything really.

Low Real Wages

This gets into the fact that real wages have decreased in recent years, even in skilled jobs. Though productivity has increased, wages stagnate, and when combined with inflation - purchasing power decreases. Instead of companies and high networth individuals letting go of a few million here or there (and really, after a certain point, can you even tell if it's missing?) to allow the economy to stir up and people like me to well, live (and pay off crushing debts).

High Costs of Health Care

This one is a doozy, especially when considering the lack of jobs and our decrease in purchasing power. Health is apparently a luxury (wait...what?!). Because the government doesn't set prices for health care, this allows business interests to drive up prices and default care to the most expensive options.

I'm starting to feel like there is a trend here... business interests...shafting the average person...cycle of poverty... middle class shrinking. Hmm.

Eligibility of Government Benefits

I'm not sure who it was who first started talking about people "gaming the system." Maybe in other countries this is possible. Here you would need to make it your full time job, and frankly, I think organized crime pays better for less work.

The eligibility requirements for government benefits is staggering. In Alameda County, where I live, you have to have documentation for everything you put on your application. You have to report everything you earn - and I mean, everything. You also can't have like any assets whatsoever. A retirement account basically renders you ineligible for benefits.

So let's review. You get minimal support. You have to work really hard to get that minimal support. Oh, and by the way, you have to own nothing.

I'm amazed there are even 47 million Americans getting assistance. Oh wait, those are the extremely poor - not the working poor who are working pretty hard to become extremely poor...

Conclusion

The whole situation reminds me of something I saw yesterday. Christian and I walked down to the estuary and stopped to gaze out at the water. Probably 200 yards down was a tandem kayak with a father and child. They were paddling in the center of the estuary where the current is the fastest. The tide and wind combined would take a little effort for even experienced paddlers to get anywhere, but these two were not experienced. Their strokes were inefficient. The current was too strong. All their efforts to move forward simply held them in place. If they stopped for even a second, they lost progress. As we watched, they slowly drifted nearer.

I wanted to call out and tell them to paddle closer to the edge where the current was weaker... but I wasn't sure. Maybe they didn't care. Maybe they were just having fun...

I am in that kayak.

Like the kayak in the estuary, these economic factors all work together to make the situation worse. There maybe people on shore who see the situation, but they do nothing to change it. They let the boaters flounder, making assumptions that may or may not be true. They comment on what the paddlers could do better, the type of boat, the type of paddle, but the reality is, the whole situation could be solved by a few choice interventions. The situation really isn't that complicated. Solutions could be implemented that benefit everyone (after all, a healthy economy IS good for everyone).

It just takes some people on shore to notice and take action.

Struggling to Find the American Dream

I'm angry. Really angry. And part of me wishes I could move to Norway, or Finland. "Why? What's so great about the land of Norse gods?!" you might ask yourself. Well let's have a little fireside chat about some of the things the American legislative branch has decided are unnecessary, namely government assistance to the poor.

I want to make the situation pretty clear here so there are no questions. In this post I'll give you a lowdown on my own situation, and then we'll get into the facts as they are for millions of Americans in at least a second post (if not more).

My Story

I went to school - college and graduate school - thinking that it didn't matter what I studied because I'd be able to find a job easily considering my skill set. I'm competent. Every job I've ever worked and put the slightest effort into, my bosses have loved me. They've always said I could move up (and several times I did just that).

In 2008 the economy crashed - horribly. Still, I was able to land a job after a couple of months because I happened to live in a city at the time that didn't have a lot of people like me in the labor force (Phoenix AZ). I supported my husband while he was in school, but we still couldn't pay for his schooling outright. We still needed loans to make things livable. Meanwhile, I was making payments to my own student loans.

During our time in Phoenix, it became progressively clearer that I couldn't continue to work for the company where I was employed because it was affecting my health. I was so stressed my body went haywire and I ended up being put on medication which actually made my situation even worse (turned out later the stuff wasn't fully vetted which meant people died and the company ended up being sued...but that's a different story). We ended up having huge medical costs despite my insurance coverage.

In an effort to cut our losses, when Christian graduated we rented our newly purchased home out and left the state. Christian got a job working for a shop at flat rate while I looked for something that would pay - anything. We didn't understand that flat rate meant we would NEED assistance in the winter and wouldn't be eligible. We thought I would be able to get a job quickly because of my skills and experience. It took me 6 months from 2010 to 2011 to get a part time job paying me a fraction of what I made in Phoenix per hour. Keep in mind, at this point Christian's loans came due. Our student loan payments doubled and we were living in a more expensive city.

With the help of Christian's family, we scraped by for months. They helped us financially in ways that are embarrassing, because it felt like we should have known better. I thought we should have figured out that flat rate wouldn't work long term. I felt like we should have known that working on motorcycles not only wouldn't be lucrative, but would render us downright poor. It was only when BMW invited him to the STEP program in New Jersey that we left the shop. I stayed with my parents for 2 months, while Christian was across the country. It was the only way we could afford him to go, and I knew the training would be good for him. I hoped our financial situation would be made better.

After he finished the program, he came back to California and he received several offers. We crunched numbers and determined the most cost effective location would be Bakersfield. While I didn't love the idea of living in Buck Owens' stomping ground, I liked the affordability. I didn't want to be in the same situation we had experienced in Hayward.

Bakersfield turned out to be much better than we expected. Even though it took some time for me to find a job (3 months), I found one that was fulfilling and exciting. There was room for growth. I looked forward to the idea of staying with the school and teaching more and more classes. I loved it. Christian's work on the other hand, made him want to shoot himself in the face every day. He became more and more sullen minute by minute. It was horrible to watch - painful.

Then of course, we had a disaster with our renters in Phoenix. We couldn't afford to fix what they ruined, and so they left. Suddenly we were stuck with rent payments and a house payment. We couldn't find renters for the price we needed. We had to cut our losses. We sold the house for more than we paid, but probably not more than we put into it. Considering the situation, it could have been worse. As it is, we're not eligible for an FHA loan until at least Fall 2014.

Christian's work got worse until he had the option of applying for a job with BMW San Francisco. We crunched numbers. They made an offer. It was enough for us to make ends meet, especially if I could find ANY kind of work (even a dinky after school job). I was horrified I would have to leave my good job in Bakersfield, but the benefits package and the idea of being in the Bay was enough for me to let go. We moved again.

BMW San Francisco was about as good of a position as you could possibly get in the motorcycle world. They paid hourly and when Christian took the job, they had an insurance program that didn't involve premiums. We could even make payments to our loans (which while being 30% of our income, we could just swing it). It was because of this we finally felt safe enough to think about a family. I planned to teach online classes or some other online thing.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find any consistent online work. As my pregnancy progressed, it became clearer and clearer I didn't have the energy to devote to a job and often, even my writing (something which I never find rarely if ever draining). I figured I would try again a few months after the baby was born and hopefully there would be some options.

Then last week happened. I was at 31 weeks into my pregnancy and Christian lost his job. With it went our insurance, our modicum of security, and any semblance of normalcy in our lives. I looked into government assistance - WIC, food stamps, and MediCal. Christian applied for unemployment. Then he quickly found a job, rendering us ineligible for any benefits and making it more difficult to navigate insurance (We will have to figure out Cobra - which I have heard is incredibly expensive and we'll have to have. I don't like the idea of going into labor without coverage if something goes wrong.).

This is the sum total of our financial struggles during the first 5 years of our marriage. It has been a trying, stressful, and incredibly painful time for us. We were only eligible for some benefits some of the time. Our loans were never able to be placed on deferment, despite our dire straits, because of the strict rules of eligibility. We were never able to save any money. I had to struggle to find a job every time we moved (and several times the pressure was incredibly great because without 2 incomes, we would have been incapable of supporting ourselves).

I have been unemployed for a total of  19 months since being married in August 2008, through a combination of moving and poor labor markets. During that time, I've been eligible for government assistance a total of 2 months and wasn't able to claim anything. I've used 26 months of forbearance on one of my loans, and 12 on the other (Christian's were also on forbearance for 12 months each). At some points, our loan payments were more than our income yet we were still unable to take advantage of deferment options. Meanwhile interest continued to accrue.

Did I mention our retirement accounts? Those have been earning less than the rate of inflation. And at least one of them has a fee taken out for "maintenance" (a fancy way of the institution saying, "We like to shit all over poor people, so we're going to take out money to pay our 6 figure salaries while you wonder what you'll do come your 65th birthday."). I won't go into the changes in our credit scores that occurred or the bank fees we incurred because we couldn't pay our bills regularly...

But here's the funny thing. According to various sources, our estimated income is still around the median for California (even adjusted for cost of living per state). This is disturbing considering we were struggling even with the small security of hourly pay that Christian received while working at BMW San Francisco.

My story points to several serious social problems:

1. Large student loan debts (with little practical relief)
2. Oversupply of educated labor in the market
3. Low real wages (even in skilled positions)
4. The high costs of health care (with and without insurance)
5. Structural problems with eligibility of government benefits (and the clear need for benefits with the above mentioned conditions)

I'm going to tackle these problems in at least the next post (if not several) because they all point to long term problems for the majority of Americans, not the least of which has been a personal concern - the need to postpone starting a family (or bringing children into poverty). It is my hope that my story and the discussions it brings with it will help people to think a little harder about what the most important issues are today (and who needs to be voted into or out of office).

If you have personal experiences like mine, please comment below! I know I'm not alone in this. There's power in numbers.