On Class, On Wealth, On Crying
A friend recently connected me to an advisory service that offers pro bono support to artists (among other people) who may or may not have access to financial planning and strategies. As someone who talks a lot about class and access to financial literacy, I was like: sure, sounds cool.
Midway through our initial call, I could feel my jaw tightening and knew I was about to cry. Something* about unpacking these markers of success and value as they are tied to class and wealth was overwhelming. I suppose that something* is generations of poverty and classist rhetoric that exist in me—immigrants and farmers and bankruptcies and food scarcity and shame.
I didn’t cry on camera, but instead gave them jokes: “Is there a reason your family has mentioned life insurance to you, any events or disasters?…” “Yes, they all died in a plane crash.” “Oh god, I’m sorry.” “I’m kidding they just want me to be be prepared, I guess…”
I cried later.
Talking about class and wealth is hard. It’s hard when you have little, it’s hard when you have a lot. It’s challenging because definitions of what it means to “have a little” and what it means to “have a lot” vary wildly between people, especially within American culture, especially living in New York City. I’ve noticed that asking questions around these things triggers something within people that either makes them shut down or puts them on the defensive (especially those who have a lot tbh).
Occasionally on my Instagram stories, I’ll post a sticker that asks: “what do you do and how much do you make?” It always garners a healthy amount of responses, and I get a lot of DMs from people who can’t believe some of the disparities that come up.
During the most recent round, I decided to add the question: “what do you consider ‘rich’?” This really set some people off. For some, anything over $65k was rich; for others, someone would need multimillions plus assets to be considered rich. One person (who makes $185k) thought $250k was rich. Another (who makes $40k) thought $80k was rich. Someone said: “I guess in the U.S., having dental insurance is rich.” Bleak.
This is obviously a wildly oversimplified metric, but it absolutely blew my fucking mind. It was clear that the goal post was not the same for everyone; it actually seemed to move further away the more money a person said they make. As much as wealth and class dictates our culture (from Real Housewives to simping for billionaires to classist micro aggressions and social gatekeeping), everyone seems to think they don’t have enough. And they certainly don’t like it when you ask them to define “rich.”
I know that a number of other factors and circumstances—race, gender, various responsibilities, debt, disability, etc.—play a part in how we measure and see what we have, but for most people, it seemed like there was discomfort in having more (at least discomfort in sharing it publicly). Maybe discomfort to the same degree as the discomfort that comes from sharing that you don’t have a lot, but—to put it simply—for very different reasons.
I wrapped up the question with an acknowledgment of these nuances, while asking people to consider where they might be a bit out of touch with their personal understanding of wealth. I encouraged giving plans for each month and explained how there have been times when someone gifting me $25-50 had radically shifted my well-being. I also mentioned how every time I’d posted my Venmo handle to support my art (largely as a joke), the only people who ever gave to me all seemed to fall under the $100k a year bracket. My mom always used to scoff at greed by saying: you don’t get rich by giving it away (derogatory). And yet, the exchange of resources is what builds and strengthens a community.
I was able to get away to a friend of a friend’s family property in Massachusetts this past weekend, shortly after these conversations. It was a minimal cost and I knew my mental health would benefit from gaslighting as mildly uppercrust. It did.
There were a lot of people there I didn’t know, and conversations at dinner made it clear that these were not class comrades. All kind, all welcoming, but definitely not your working-class-type-girlies.
It was a lovely weekend (aside from being denied a selfie with Marina Abramovic at a roadside rest stop—true story!), but the echoes of these conversations around class still seemed eager to remain on my mind. Almost every single person (many of whom I knew made at least 6 figures and/or came from a long line of generational wealth) claimed to “not be rich.”
“I’d do xyz if I was rich,” they’d say outside of their Land Rover after discussing their fourth trip to Rome this year. “I’m broke,” they’d say as they explained how one of their nannies was teaching the kids Spanish while they were summering. I can only imagine what true wealth they must encounter and how fully isolating that must feel. One of them did not know what PAM was.
In the days prior, several mutual aid funds reached out to me for support. I gave a small amount, but wonder what kind of impact these people I met could make if they weren’t “broke.” This isn’t a judgment, because I don’t know them. But… you know.
A dear soul who follows my social media rampages Venmo-ed me $200, and it had a profound impact. Like, I cried. He told me: we have to look out for each other when we can. And despite the rage and the frustration and the anger I have when trying to discuss these things, I think it all boils down to that: Am I looking out for other people when I can? Are you looking out for people when you can? Are we?
I don’t know. I’d like to hope so, but I don’t know. I will sit with this question for now, and invite you do to the same—without shame or guilt—just class VIBES.
If you’d like to be connected to the financial services I mentioned above, please let me know! I will happily share their services, which are all free. If you’d like to talk more about this, form an affinity group or just share/vent, let me know x
OPPORTUNITIES, OPEN CALLS, PLACES TO GIVE, MUTUAL AID
-Help my dear friend IV raise funds for their father who recently had a stroke.
-My dear friend Coco’s mother also recently had strokes and is in need. Please support.
-Founder of Black Disabled Lives Matter is raising urgent funds for necessary care
-Artists’ Literacies Institute (my work!) is raising funds for the Children and Youth Artists’ Grief Deck—a tool using art and grief prompts collected by 58 young people (ages 6-24) and grief/mental health professionals to help with the widening grief crisis among young people resultant of the pandemic and other major loss events
-Smack Mellon Artist Studio Program Open Call. Due 11/23
If you’d like to support my writing, feel free to leave me a tip on Venmo or PayPal. I also very much welcome feedback and thoughts.