Part of the problem

In January 2017, right after we learned the company Grey worked for was being sold and he would be unemployed for a second time, we joined friends on a trip to the science museum. The day was generally a good one, with the kids playing together and exploring all the exhibits (with near-misses in exhibits that should be marked "adults only"). Sitting down to lunch, we began to chat while navigating feeding three small children. It was then when the topic of Grey facing unemployment again we were asked: "So, where are you going on vacation?"

To this day, I'm still shocked by this question. It was both callous and apathetic given what Grey and I were facing with juggling supporting our family while managing a mountain of debt. But what hurts the most was that it illustrated how the couple sitting across from us was completely clueless that this wouldn't be an option for the average person. At that moment, the cracks in a friendship we had tried were revealed as being deep ravines and though Grey and I asked for space from them, trying to figure out a way to repair the hurt, the truth is we never found a way to bridge this gap.

This past week was a reminder of this one personal gap and how it's actually more widespread. Starting with a set of articles form the Chronicles of Higher Education about Higher Education's unfulfilled promise to lessen socioeconomic divides, I went down the rabbit hole reading about the barriers in mobility, having discussions within my professional network about how political moves have specifically been aimed at deepening this divide, and also revisiting past articles, such this one in the Atlantic about the Birth of the New American Aristocracy about how every aspect of our society and how the current structure is set up to promote only a select few - that the rhetoric we've all been fed about hard-work and equal opportunity is actually completely false as we've actually created a social structure that is poised to collapse on itself.

Adding to all of this was me witnessing all of this again first hand as I was summoned for jury duty. Riding the BART off-peak hours is a great way to witness what happens when people don't any hope that their lives can get better. From open drug use to witnessing begging and experiencing threats simply for riding the train, it's a bit traumatic. On top of this, I found myself having to revisit past trauma triggered by the juror selection questionnaire where I was asked whether I had ever been a victim of a violent crime, whether I had ever experienced threats to my person while on mass transit, whether I had ever been sued, and if any of this would inhibit my ability to be impartial as I listened to evidence about this case. The next day, in front of 80 strangers, I would be asked all these questions again and ultimately be excused from serving as I answered all these questions while visibly shaking.

As I've been working on recovering from this latest panic attack (and dealing with the shame from having to disclose all I did), I've been thinking a lot about the roles each of us has in the world and what happens to those who challenge others views of their place in the world. The truth is that though all of us are doing the best we can, most won't venture outside the comfort of the narrative they've been given. A big part of this is a primal response, given that questioning support networks and social roles can be extremely dangerous towards continuing to be accepted, but another part that so few want to admit is there comfort behind not challenging the narrative. The idea that we work hard for what we have is far more appealing than learning that those in positions of privilege really could never have failed and those supporting them are there solely because they were placed to be able to check off those boxes.

In short, it's been a rough week. And I frankly don't know what is going to come from all of it. But I do know that I'm tired of doing nothing and seeing things deteriorate. It's a matter of how to start pulling all the pieces together.