Safety Net

A few weeks back I went to a movie with somebody dear to me.  Western Washington still clung to winter, and and night fell early even though it was spring break.  Out of the darkness a woman approached:

"Do you have any money to spare? I'm hungry."

I turned away and told her no.

Stepping into the building, my purse felt like lead.

I had $12 cash in there.

I wish I could say that I went back outside and handed her the money, but I didn't.  We were running late, I didn't want to get left without a ticket, and I didn't want to explain myself to my companion.

Essentially, I placed more value on the first few minutes of previews than the woman.

I took my seat and watched my movie, feeling horribly guilty.

Later, mediocre movie over, settled at home, I expressed my guilty conscience.

"I can't believe I didn't give her any money.  I still feel terrible about it."

"She probably would have spent it on drugs or alcohol."

"But you don't know that.  She might have had a family to feed.  She might not have eaten today."

"Why risk it?"

I thought for a minute.  "Because if I was ever homeless, I'd want someone to give me the benefit of a doubt."

"But your middle class background says you'll never be homeless," the one who is dear to me responded, then she changed the subject.

I don't have the research handy to tell you the details on why this is true.  But it is unlikely I will ever be homeless.  The middle class is raised with the speaking habits, manners, and values held in high esteem by the privileged people in America.  Our upbringing provides a comfortable safety net of potential employers and established family connections to halt a descent into poverty.  We are privileged to be less likely to end up homeless than the people from lower classes.

Exasperated, the voice in my head retorted: Just because I was lucky enough to be born in a middle class family with white parents and white grandparents who have all been able to get good jobs for most of my life - does that mean I shouldn't care?

No, it doesn't.  Not at all.

God gave me certain privileges, and I strive to be conscious of how I use them.

White Woman Hair

I love volunteering in the kids classes at my church.  Class size varies, discipline issues vary, over all spirituality varies, but I can put up with all of that stuff if it lets me be with the kids.

On a recent Sunday morning, a fifth grade Latina girl came up to me unexpectedly and said:

"Ms. Rachel!  You have such beautiful hair!"

I looked into her beautiful brown eyes and thought to myself: do I really have beautiful hair?  Or have you be socialized to believe that blonde hair, blue eyes, white skin is beautiful?  Do you think you are beautiful? Why is being beautiful so important to us anyway?  I want you to know that you are more than just beautiful, but an intelligent, capable young woman worth so much more than how you look.

But of course, you cannot necessarily say that to a fifth grade girl, in church, in the middle of the memory verse game.

So, I told her thank you, and we went back to playing.

If I could go back again, I would have told her she was beautiful too.  Affirming her worth--even if I didn't agree with the source--is far more important than the sociological factors that make her need that.

I just had so many words jumbling around in my head that the right ones couldn't seem to squeak past my lips.

Even though I spent the rest of the morning looking for reasons to compliment her on how well she participated and telling her how beautiful she was, I'm not sure it really helped.

I was so disappointed in myself.