Sarah V said
“Am I the only one who finds it really sad to think of someone not reciprocating an invitation because they were too ashamed of their house? Personally, if I was one of the mothers who’d invited Noah over for a playdate, I can see myself feeling pretty insulted by that.”
It was pretty sad but there you go.
This was the part of town where Brett grew up, too, and I used to roll my eyes when his mom would talk about what a difficult place it was to raise her kids. It’s a lovely neighborhood — those high taxes make for nice parks, safe streets and well-kept roads. But you go to the grocery store and stand behind women with Louis Vitton bags (not knock-offs) talking about their annual vacation to France. It gets to a person.
And, getting back to what Chris said, this was also the neighborhood I thought I might like to buy a house in back when I was a teenager. I would drive through it every day on my way to school and think — with all the hubris of youth — that maybe this is where I would settle. See, that area was a step up from the area where I grew up — our area was newer money and this was older money — and as a teen and in my early 20s, I kinda thought kids did better than the parents as a matter of course. I was very naive about this.
My point is that I was ashamed of myself and of my home because I thought it spoke ill of me. I thought I hadn’t worked hard enough (and that Brett hadn’t worked hard enough) and I felt like a failure. (It’s worth saying, too, that Noah was going to this preschool during my fertility woes — adding to my sense of failure.) I thought I would have one of those palatial homes, too. I thought I would have married someone rich and would be taking a break from a really great job to raise my kids. Oops.
I think it’s very likely that most of the nice women at the preschool would not have come to my house and then refused to let their children play with Noah. However, I have experienced a shift in friendships when one of us realized the relative differences in our incomes. Truly. And in a particularly vulnerable time in my life when I was already feeling pretty low, I just didn’t want to put myself out there.
It’s those assumptions I was talking about. I didn’t want to have to correct someone again and then wait through the awkward pause, the forced brightening of her smile, and then the sudden change in subject to something more neutral.
“Where does Noah live?”
“We’re in one of the townhouses there by Chef-o-nette.”
“Well! … Isn’t that fun! By the Chef-o-nette! How fun! So when will this rain ever stop!”
“We should carpool to the picnic. I could pick the boys up and you could take them home!”
“Unfortunately our car doesn’t have shoulder belts so it doesn’t work with traditional boosters.”
“Maybe you could use your husband’s car that day?”
“This is our only car.”
“Well! … I suppose we could meet you there then! Let’s just hope the weather holds!”
“Oh yes, my husband is lead counsel for [name of company]. What does your husband do?”
“You know when you call about your insurance claim to see why it hasn’t been paid? He’s the person on the other end of the line.”
“Well! … That must be … interesting. Can you believe this snow?”
“Oh I heard you bought a new house! How exciting! Where is it?”
“Up between [street] and [street] near [shopping center].”
“Well! … Look at the time, the kids will be out soon!”
It’s not that the women (most of them — there were notable exceptions) weren’t nice and friendly, it’s not that they weren’t welcoming. But it’s exhausting to always be the one putting a damper on the conversation, making everyone feel awkward, and being reminded again and again that you are a have-not in a sea of haves.
I have friends who are wealthy by any definition of the term and we’ve remained friends because 1) we have talked through this stuff (in fact, one of them was my sounding board while I struggled in this area of town), or 2) We have just been very careful with each other. I know that it’s hard for them, too. They don’t know whether to censor themselves (Don’t bring up the European tour! Don’t mention the expensive new slipcovers! Don’t talk about car shopping!) or bring it up and worry they’re being rude.
It’s better now that we’re financially stable (here I toss kisses to my job — smooch smooch) and more emotionally secure (here I toss kisses to Madison covered in banana in the high chair — smooch smooch). I still wouldn’t go back to that preschool though. It’s just too much, too too much. And it’s why I would never send either of my kids to a great school on scholarship. It’s just too damn hard to be the poorest person in a sea of money.
I’d like to hear from other people with friendships that cut across class. Is it hard being the have? Being the have-not? tell me about it.
gawd! You’re taking me back five years ago when my daughter was enrolled at the United Nations International School in Queens. There were the wealthy and then there was us.
It was a mixed bag for me. There was a really strong core of moms from my daughter’s class who were very proactive about what was going on at school. I’m about as gregarious as they come so it didn’t take long to feel part of the group.
But I did notice that I took care to keep my relationships on an even keel. I would do little things like never ask for a ride even on a rainy day. I didn’t want anyone to feel that we were looking for them to do something for us or ‘help us out.’ Hey, I was poor, but I was fiercely independent ;-D
I remember being very reluctant to invite my daughter’s friends over to our little run-down house. I got over it finally although I don’t think I ever invited that many over.
It was also hard having to keep telling my daughter why she couldn’t have some of the things the other kids had. But she got it without too much resentment I think, she’s fiercely loyal.
In some ways, I think it was an important exposure for both my daughter and her friends. Diversity is not just about black and white, gay and straight but also poor and rich. While UNIS had an excellent mix of ethnic representation I felt it couldn’t really call itself multi-cultural because of the dirth of poorer kids in the school.
As the world continues to intermix (we are all such mutts!) the exposure children receive to different economic groups becomes as important as any other.
“In my own limited experience, there is definitely a mindset that comes from growing up with money and there’s definitely a mindset that comes from growing up poor and these mindsets have to do with feeling secure and how you use your sense of insecurity or security as you make your way in the world”
I think this is it exactly! This is why the kids of rich parents can back pack around Europe with virtually no money. They have the security and knowledge that someone can and will bail them out if they should need it.
My husband is a second generation of an immigrant family. He was the first to go to college. His family doesn’t understand that college isn’t vocational training.
Our nephew is about to go to college, he says he wants to be a lawyer, and I told him “make sure you explore other classes and find things that interest and challenge you. The best thing that can happen is for you to find something you love and feel passionately about. Maybe it will be law, maybe it won’t. Money is not everything.”
By the reaction of other family members you would have thought I suggested shooting the professors down with a machine gun. For them there is no other measure of success but money.
I am loving this conversation too, Dawn. Just wish that my nursling didn’t kick and hit the keyboard while I type
I have lots of thoughts about this, but not a lot of time to comment at the moment. I will say, though, that I think it has a whole lot to do with upbringing. I was raised by a single welfare mother in a bad neighborhood, but now I’m married to a man who makes an obscene amount of money and our lifestyle reflects it. It embarrasses me, to be honest. I avoid references to money at all costs unless I’m talking to someone who has more than we do. I find it excruciating to have our financial stability hanging out there for my friends with less to see…
Oh and I wanted to add, I was the poorest kid in my private school. I was there on an academic scholarship. I wouldn’t do it to my kids, though my circumstances are different.
BUT, I think the real difference I saw in the homes of the other kids, was the education level and the discussions that were had over the dinner tables. I was from a middle class family. And some of the kids were so rich and their parents so “important” that I cannot fathom it even now as an adult. Henry Kissinger spoke at my high school graduation, a graduating class of 60 kids, if that is any sort of indication.
It was then that I realized there was a different world out there and I wanted to be a part of it. Not necessarily the money, but the education, the cultural literacy, I wanted enough knowledge to know what I didn’t know. If that makes sense.
I’d like to second two things– that class diversity is, for me, as important as racial diversity, and I say that as a mother of multiracial children, even. Also, I’d like to agree that cultural literacy has been one of the factors that most reminds me that I did not grow up in the same class bracket as my husband, or as some of my friends– parents who didn’t mention opera, or classical music, who didn’t take me to the theater or talk to me about fine arts, etc. My parents wanted me to go college, but NEVER talked to me about shooting for a “good” school, despite my early intellectual precociousness. Both my parents were first-gen college students, my dad from a poor family, my mother from a family that become more middle-class but never lost their working-class/immigrant mindset, which filtered down to her.
One of the hardest things I’ve found since becoming a mother is that I’ve made more cross-class friendships than ever before in my life. Before, my friends and I almost always had class-commonality as part of our connection, but no more. Partially that’s because we live in a very rapidly gentrifying area on a block that is not yet gentry, so it’s always a very visible adjustment when I say my neighborhood, followed by my street. Also, I think it’s because the great majority of SAHM or partially employed moms in our area are in their mid-thirties, while I’m in my mid-twenties, so I have to constantly remind myself that my partner and I are at the beginning of our careers still, and they are not– that’s why they have higher salaries, portfolios, savings, etc. It’s difficult not to let that make me feel like a failure, though, either in my career, in my relationship, or as a mother. I’ve gotten better at deflecting those feelings, or remembering what I love about where we are in our lives (many things, truly) but it has been a difficult transition to make.
Also, this feeling is intensified for me, because like Dawn, I experienced great shifts in my class status as a kid through parental divorce, which left me in a private school that we could no longer afford, etc.
so much food for thought!
I wholeheartedly agree with those who have already said that economic diversity is just as important as racial diversity. We applied to one school (for C.) that basically told us that she had a much better chance of getting in (it was highly competitive) once they found out we were adopting from China as well (as if our Chinese American daughter - raised by affluent white parents) is really going to expand the “diversity” of the school. What a crock.
I also really related to being the “poorest” person in a set of people. When we first had C., I joined a mommy support group that met once a week. Each mother took a turn hosting the event at her home, and I was the last person to offer to host because I was embarassed by the fact that we lived so differently (read poorly in comparison) to the other mothers. Every other family lived in a single family house that was at least 2500 sq ft (more often over 3000 sq ft) filled with new furniture or heirloom pieces. Never mind the fact that when C. was born both B. and I were 26 years old and the next youngest mom in my groups was 33. It was hard to not have as much, because there is that [spoken or unspoken] approval/disapproval from people that you socialize with. It has taken me a while to move away from that kind of thinking, but in a lot of ways - I look at it as a way that I have grown up. Now I am much more comfortable revealing who I am, and how we as a fmaily choose to live - instead of worrying that I am not someone else. This means that I have a much smaller social group than I once had, but I am so much happier now that I spend my time and energy on people that my me feel good about myself and vice versa. And I don’t feel the need to “compete/keep up with the Joneses”. Finally.
This discussion has been really interesting. I live in a mostly working-class, very racially/ethnically diverse neighborhood that is a few ‘hoods away from Park Slope, Brooklyn - a pretty wealthy area of Brooklyn. I work at a private preschool in Park Slope, where my daughter can attend tuition-free. Next year will be her first year there. I was really excited to have her go there, and felt we would find a nice community of parents and families. This was based on my experience teaching there, but suddenly, now that I’m one of the parents - not just a teacher - I realize how much less money we make than nearly everyone who sends their kids there. I realize that the “community” I sought out is really not OUR community, and I wonder how we will fit in as parents in the school. The truth is, if her tuition weren’t free, we would never be able to afford having her attend! We do home visits to the children prior to the start of school, so I’ve SEEN the houses that many of my students reside in. Oh, my god. A far, far cry from our little rental, that’s for fucking sure. I do wonder how it will all play out next year, and which of the parents I’ll actually connect with. We’ll see.
Okay Bert has members of his family who are really wealthy. They run with well known people. They give $100K to their favorite charities all the time. They set up college funds for our kids. They have taken us on a couple of vacations. Sometimes it’s weird, but moslty its okay. The wife is old money, so she is really comfortable with it, she shops at Target, bitches about the price of cereal, she seems pretty normal. Then I remember that she can have anything, I mean anything she wants. The thing is what she wants is what you and I want. A decent life for her kids, a good night’s sleep, for the 2 year old to be potty trained. Her husband has only had this kind of money for a decade. He likes buying things. He likes giving gifts. Money is still a toy to him. They are both generous to a fault though. I still feel comfortable hanging out with them for 10 days at a time, cooking, cleaning, and all of us taking care of our kids. However, they are family not friends. I have no close friends who are a lot wealthier than we are. We are all in the give or take 50K range. Some of us up 10 grand, some of us are down 10 grand.
Holy cow! I’m a blog title!! How cool is that??
I can’t think of any specific occasions when it’s embarrassed me, but I do know that, in general terms, I do get pretty embarrassed about the thought of having more money than other people. I feel people are going to think I’m hopelessly materialistic and/or a spoiled brat who has no idea of the harsher realities of life. (Actually, that last is probably true - that it actually is the case, I mean, not that people think it.)
It does make me wonder whether that might have been what the women in Scenarios 1 and 4 were actually thinking. Maybe that was the reason for the embarrassed pause and subject change - they weren’t thinking less of you, they were worried about what you’d think of them. Or maybe it was one of those “Help, I’ve really _got_ to say the right thing” moments that over come us and inevitably make us put our foot in it far more completely than if we just hadn’t worried about it in the first place.
Scenario 2? Hard to know how else that conversation could have gone, from that point. I mean, if you and another person are going to the same place and you offer to carpool and they say they can’t, I can’t really see that there’s a lot else to say to that other than “We could meet you there”. (OK, so I realise that I wasn’t there for the conversation and maybe there were subtleties in facial expression/tone of voice that made you realise they actually felt awkward.)
Scenario 3? Maybe the person had issues with insurance companies, rather than with low earners. Some months back, my husband _did_ have to call about an insurance claim to see why it hadn’t been paid, and…. well, it’s probably just as well that we didn’t meet the wife of the person at the other end of the phone at that time, because what we’d have felt like saying wouldn’t really have been repeatable.
So, I guess the moral of the story is that we really shouldn’t base our reactions too much on our fears of what other people _might_ be thinking. What if we’ve got it completely wrong?
BTW, your post has made me think about my own preconceptions/biases, because I certainly do have them. When I see someone who’s homeless, or on benefits, there is an ugly part of me (and I try not to make it the ruling part) that assumes that it’s their fault, they didn’t work hard enough, they did something wrong, whatever. But I can’t imagine reacting that way to someone who was buying their own home but just wasn’t buying it in a good part of town. To me, the very fact of buying a house says responsibility, planning ahead, self-sufficiency. It would never occur to me to think critically of someone who was doing that just because they couldn’t afford a mansion or whatever. So, I’m surprised by the thought of anyone having this particular bias - but it did make me feel that I’m not bias-free!