I remember one afternoon when I was working at the grocery
store when a man came through my line with his daughter. She looked at the
little yellow EBT sign on the front of the pin pad asked her father, “Do we
have EBT?” His response came with a disgusted look spread across his face as he
said, “Hell no, we don’t use that shit. I make…” and then proceeded to rattle
off some high yearly figure, how much money he was worth, and pull a thick
stack of cash from his pocket to pay for his groceries.
I started working at the store when I was 17 and didn’t
quite for the last time until I left to teach high school, and during my time
there, I saw people from all walks of life pass by me. In my youthful arrogance and ignorance, I
swore, as I watched people use government assistance to pay for Thanksgiving
and Christmas dinners that I’d never have to do it. After all, I was going to
college and I was certain that having a degree would ensure that I’d always
have a career that would not only allow me to make a difference but that would
also pay well. Well enough that I’d never have to worry about making ends meet
or living paycheck to paycheck. And during these observations, I was sometimes
surprised by some of the people who relied on government assistance, for they did
not always match the description we sometimes have in mind of those who rely on
food stamps to buy their food. Conservative media often paint the picture of
those who relying government assistance as being the same people who wear their
pajamas out in public, looks as though they’ve not bathed in a couple weeks,
and play on their iPhones while cursing their EBT card for not working, and
it’s true there are many who affirm this stereotype. We would often take bets
amongst ourselves at the store when we saw people meeting this description and
pushing a buggy that was overflowing at the first of the month as to what
payment would be offered; we often bet EBT. Oftentimes we were right. But
sometimes we would be shocked when the person paid with cash or a debit card,
and I remember being stunned when I would see people well groomed and wearing
business clothes pay for their groceries with EBT. People in suits and ties
relying on the government to buy their dinners.
Until I became one of them.
###
Sometime later—a year, maybe two—I saw that same man and his
daughter come through my line and pay with an EBT card. I remembered his words
that day so long ago and wondered to myself what had happened. When I started
teaching at the college, I saw him on campus. He was never one of my students,
though I would see him in Peer Mentoring classes and sessions while I was doing
other work. Peer Mentoring: just what its name suggests and associated with Gen
101 and 102, your basic “Welcome to College” classes, seemingly college level
but remedial nonetheless.
Slowly, maybe even rapidly—so much of time is lost in the
remembrance thereof—I became one of those people I swore I would never be,
someone who had to rely on government assistance to make ends meet. Years ago I
may have chuckled at the memes on Facebook and the posts touting the views that
suggested those who relied on government assistance were lazy, willingly
uneducated mooches. But I was married, going to college and then graduate
school, and working two, sometimes three jobs, and still couldn’t make it. So I
was lumped in with that stereotype, not explicitly of course, as those who knew
me knew that I didn’t fit that mold— I was perhaps an outlier— but that’s the
problem with lumping people into a stereotype: so often our opinions are more
uneducated than are the people we are denigrating.
That’s not to say I think the system is perfect or that
everyone who benefits from it does so honestly and deservedly. I know there are
people who cheat the system, who lie about where and with whom they live so
they can benefit, sell their EBT cards for cash. I’m not naïve enough to
believe that some of the stereotypes applied to those who benefit from
government assistance are not true, for they are. They are applicable to a
percentage of the population, however large or small that percentage may be,
but they are not indicative of the characteristics of everyone struggling to
make ends meet.
###
A friend from high school and I recently discussed therapy.
She expressed the desire and need to go for depression, and I have had
countless friends and colleagues over the years who have been to doctors and
counselors and been placed on medication for depression and anxiety. When I got
insurance through my job last year, the first thing I did was go to the doctor
because of anxiety and depression. There were days when I dreaded getting out
of bed, of going home, of going to work—so many scenarios that exacerbated my
anxiety. I love live music, but even going to a concert could set me on edge—the
large crowd, the waiting, the bustling people going to and fro— especially in
small venues like bars. Larger venues like arenas and theaters aren’t any
better. Sitting in traffic makes me want to crawl out my window and run, for at
least I’ll be moving. So the doctor put me on Lexipro, which is great and works
wonders when you have insurance and can afford it. Your focus and drive wane,
but so does your anxiety. But then lose your insurance, goodbye meds.
Sarah and I joked that therapy and medication are for the
rich; the rest of us have cigarettes and alcohol. And coffee. Lots and lots of
coffee. All of which, of course, have the ability to exacerbate anxiety.
This is not, of course, to say that all people who are on government
assistance smoke and drink. Some do; some don’t. But I often see posts and
memes that say, “If you need EBT, you can’t afford cigarettes and alcohol,” and
to an extent, I understand that sentiment. If you rely on EBT, most likely your
means are quite meager, at best, and perhaps your money could be better spent
elsewhere. But those who choose cigarettes and alcohol over food need help, not
condemnation; guidance, not derogatory comments issued from behind a computer
screen. Obviously, there are some who choose cigarettes and alcohol, or drugs,
over food, but I’m not really talking about them here, not in the grand scheme of things, other than to say that
they are the ones who need help, not hate. I’m talking about those who are
trying, those outlying individuals who don’t really fit into the neat little
condemning box people so often try to put them in. With any luck, the ACA will
change that—maybe those who self medicate on tobacco and liquor can get true
medication and true help. But that’s a post for a different time.
###
It’s easy to look out and judge those who aren’t as well off
as you; I know because I’ve done it. But it’s amazing how being the one in need
can change your views, can add a bit of empathy to the way you view the world,
as you find you can relate to those who are struggling because you too have
struggled. Maybe you’re struggling still. Do I think I’ll change any minds with
this? Expand any views? Perhaps not. But who knows? All I know is that I often
find myself thinking of that guy who was so disgusted by the thought of ever
having to use an EBT card and wondering what path his life took to lead him to
the one position in which he said he would never find himself.
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