By: Clara Thompson
Updated: Dec. 12, 2017
Originally Published: Dec. 28, 2015
Recently, I came across a poignant post on the Humans of New York Facebook page that struck a deep chord within me. The image showed an older gentleman reflecting on the concept of self-reliance in the face of poverty. He remarked, “I once believed I could just tell a struggling person: ‘Get a job, save money, and pull yourself up by the bootstraps.’ I no longer hold that belief. I was naive to the realities faced by those living in poverty.” His words resonated with me on a personal level.
I embody what it means to be part of the working poor. My partner and I both maintain full-time jobs, and I also have a part-time side job, yet every month brings new financial challenges. For a long time, I felt ashamed of our situation. Despite adhering to the traditional path of the American Dream—completing college, getting married, starting a family, and purchasing a home—I find myself overwhelmed by debt. With my current income trajectory, I fear I may pass away still indebted to the government for my student loans and to the bank for my mortgage.
No matter how diligently I work, I remain just one paycheck away from financial catastrophe. Each month, I meticulously jot down our expenses on a calendar, attempting to align our bills with our limited paychecks. If a school event necessitates spending, I face the daunting task of deciding which bill I can delay for another week. I know the grace periods of all my bills by heart—if I can’t pay the electricity this month, I understand that as long as I contribute something by the 15th, I won’t face disconnection next month.
Living this way is exhausting, yet (for now) I resist seeking assistance. I recognize that there are families in more dire situations, and I remind myself that we are fortunate to have food, shelter, and safety. Regarding those proverbial bootstraps? I’ve been grasping mine tightly and pulling with all my might, but it never seems to be sufficient.
This Christmas, we made the difficult decision to fall behind on our mortgage by almost three months in order to afford propane to heat our home, purchase a few modest gifts, and buy winter coats and boots for our children. However, our only vehicle is equipped with worn-out tires, and my child has a rare genetic condition that imposes thousands of dollars in medical costs each month, as we do not qualify for any subsidies or grants. At night, I lie awake, consumed by anxiety about how to cover these expenses.
Living paycheck to paycheck is our norm, and I know I am not alone in this struggle. According to the Center for Poverty Research at the University of California, Davis, the working poor are individuals who spend 27 weeks or more each year either employed or seeking work, yet whose earnings fall below the poverty line. The federal poverty threshold varies based on family size; in 2014, the Census Bureau reported that 45 million Americans lived below this line, equating to 14.5% of the U.S. population.
While the current climate feels disheartening, it is likely to deteriorate further under the Trump administration, where the GOP holds significant power in Congress and is enacting legislation that increasingly marginalizes the poor and middle classes. As reported by Vox, “Trump will likely implement the most severe cuts to programs for low- and middle-income individuals of any president since Reagan.” His economic policies threaten to plunge families like mine into extreme poverty. The thought of losing our healthcare is unbearable, especially since my son’s rare disorder requires ongoing financial support, which no parent can adequately prepare for. My grueling workweeks feel futile under these circumstances.
When I hear discussions about bootstraps, I think of my grandparents, who lived during a time of economic prosperity in America. They had the means to pull themselves in any direction they desired. In contrast, despite my relentless efforts, I find myself drowning in debt from my modest home and education that leads to a job that barely meets my financial obligations.
While my children proudly wear their new winter attire to school, I will be trudging through the snow in worn-out sneakers because I cannot afford proper footwear. We will continue to scrape by to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, but this will come at a significant cost to my health and morale. There is nothing lazy about our situation; the experience of being working poor is profoundly unfair and devoid of hope. Even more disheartening are the misguided assumptions people make about the ability to escape such economic hardship.
When that man from Humans of New York acknowledged his previous ignorance about poverty and articulated the realities of modern struggles, I felt a flicker of hope. Someone was publicly voicing the challenges I face each day.
I am a representation of the working poor, and I want to be seen.