Hello there! Im E. Here is a little information about me to get you started. We may have something common!
I was born and raised in a place on the California coast called The Bay Area. Some of you may have heard of this place in rap songs or know rappers from the region. Famous rappers/singers include:
Overall, it is a very artistic area with a high population of hipsters. But as the adage goes: Where hipsters are, live generations of minorities. And it is true. The Bay Area is historically known for being an area where minority families and people live. If you check out the history of it, you understand where I am literally coming from.
On that note, my political ideologies, beliefs, and all that other mumbo-jumbo tightly revolves around what I have been raised up on. Yes I believe that gay marriage should be legal in this entire country. Yes, I believe that women have rights to their own bodies. No, I do not believe that people should have loose restrictions with guns. And no, I do not believe that prayer should be taught in schools. Thats basically me. You can classify me as a ¨Bay Area Hippie¨ if you like. I frankly couldn't be half as offended with that nickname because the general consensus among us Bay Area folk is that people have a right to their rights and should live their lives freely (not in the way Libertarians like Rand Paul and Co. believe) and love whomever they please (except for minors...and animals). We Bay Area Folk are proud to wear our stripes, so you couldn't offend me with calling me a Liberal. ;)
But my life in particular is not all sunshine-happiness-freedom--I grew up poor. Very poor. I used to say that my family was so poor that we could even afford to buy dirt--in both the literal and metaphorical sense. Our food income came from what is called TANF and my mother, being the only stable guardian in my life, raised me, my brother, and my sister on her own. Without much assistance came so much struggle. Because she had to spend time watching me and my siblings, my mother worked sparsely and could not afford to pay for a lot of things one would expect a parent to pay for, like bills, our clothing, school supplies, food, etc. The list goes on.
I realized from an early age that my family was not quite as well off as many others were, but it was until I moved I really understood poverty. I remember one day sitting in the living room while my mother was combing my sister's nappy hair, asking her why we didn't have any food in the 'fridge. She stopped combing and sighed, but never looked up when she said it:
¨We're broke, E.¨
With a blonde barbie doll in my hand, I noticed that I wasn't having as much trouble combing her hair like my mom did with my sister's hair. ¨What does that mean?¨ asked five-year-old me.
¨It means...¨ she hesitated. ¨It means we don't have any money.¨
I didn't ask any further questions. No money was as clear to me as not having a barbie doll--you couldn't have fun, nor be happy. I was kid then, so I shrugged it off. But as I got older, and things got more complicated, especially in school, I thought more about how money effected the way my family operated. I started realizing that every month, my mother was faced with a set of ultimatums due to a lack of funds. She'd have to choose between walking us to school or taking the bus to school. Going to her community college classes or watching us instead. Buying things for herself or for the whole family. Paying the electricity bill or the water bill. Buying us what we wanted vs. what we needed. The list can go on. Being the younguns we were, my sister and I probably were not a big help. Sometimes we would come home, crying because we could only browse the stores but never buy anything. See our friends and cousins with the latest barbie doll while we were either forced to play with the cheap Dollar Store toys that always broke five minutes into your play with them. We also shared clothes a lot, and I remember that being a hard thing for me even though I never vocalized it. I prayed that no one would notice that I was wearing the same pink shirt my sister, who is a year younger than me, had been wearing just the day before. It was hard just living.
Furthermore, life without much highly effected my health. We could not afford healthy food. I have terrible asthma and anxiety disorder. While I can't exactly say that a poor diet directly contributed to my medical conditions, I can say that it affected the way I thought about many things as a child. I was oftentimes grateful of the school lunch which so many detest. Those sweaty sloppy joe sandwiches, and questionable lasangnas were usually my only meal for the day. The entire day. I even resorted to saving some of that food until I got home because I wanted to eat at home. This was true for many of the children in my region as well. I didn't see anyone stashing away school lunch, but I do know that a vast majority of them ate it. It was only until I went to middle school in a what I considered a ¨well-off¨ neighborhood that I realized in some places, eating school lunch was completely taboo. Nevertheless I gorged on the unhealthy stuff because it was all I had. I think I can contribute this to my being appreciative of most of the food I get today and it being the reason why I can't tell if food is good or bad (sometimes even if it is old) because of what I ate when I was young. That's what some would call bliss or a blessing, while others would call this a curse. I think it is a mixture of both.
I'll continue this later,
-E.
I was born and raised in a place on the California coast called The Bay Area. Some of you may have heard of this place in rap songs or know rappers from the region. Famous rappers/singers include:
Overall, it is a very artistic area with a high population of hipsters. But as the adage goes: Where hipsters are, live generations of minorities. And it is true. The Bay Area is historically known for being an area where minority families and people live. If you check out the history of it, you understand where I am literally coming from.
On that note, my political ideologies, beliefs, and all that other mumbo-jumbo tightly revolves around what I have been raised up on. Yes I believe that gay marriage should be legal in this entire country. Yes, I believe that women have rights to their own bodies. No, I do not believe that people should have loose restrictions with guns. And no, I do not believe that prayer should be taught in schools. Thats basically me. You can classify me as a ¨Bay Area Hippie¨ if you like. I frankly couldn't be half as offended with that nickname because the general consensus among us Bay Area folk is that people have a right to their rights and should live their lives freely (not in the way Libertarians like Rand Paul and Co. believe) and love whomever they please (except for minors...and animals). We Bay Area Folk are proud to wear our stripes, so you couldn't offend me with calling me a Liberal. ;)
But my life in particular is not all sunshine-happiness-freedom--I grew up poor. Very poor. I used to say that my family was so poor that we could even afford to buy dirt--in both the literal and metaphorical sense. Our food income came from what is called TANF and my mother, being the only stable guardian in my life, raised me, my brother, and my sister on her own. Without much assistance came so much struggle. Because she had to spend time watching me and my siblings, my mother worked sparsely and could not afford to pay for a lot of things one would expect a parent to pay for, like bills, our clothing, school supplies, food, etc. The list goes on.
I realized from an early age that my family was not quite as well off as many others were, but it was until I moved I really understood poverty. I remember one day sitting in the living room while my mother was combing my sister's nappy hair, asking her why we didn't have any food in the 'fridge. She stopped combing and sighed, but never looked up when she said it:
¨We're broke, E.¨
With a blonde barbie doll in my hand, I noticed that I wasn't having as much trouble combing her hair like my mom did with my sister's hair. ¨What does that mean?¨ asked five-year-old me.
¨It means...¨ she hesitated. ¨It means we don't have any money.¨
I didn't ask any further questions. No money was as clear to me as not having a barbie doll--you couldn't have fun, nor be happy. I was kid then, so I shrugged it off. But as I got older, and things got more complicated, especially in school, I thought more about how money effected the way my family operated. I started realizing that every month, my mother was faced with a set of ultimatums due to a lack of funds. She'd have to choose between walking us to school or taking the bus to school. Going to her community college classes or watching us instead. Buying things for herself or for the whole family. Paying the electricity bill or the water bill. Buying us what we wanted vs. what we needed. The list can go on. Being the younguns we were, my sister and I probably were not a big help. Sometimes we would come home, crying because we could only browse the stores but never buy anything. See our friends and cousins with the latest barbie doll while we were either forced to play with the cheap Dollar Store toys that always broke five minutes into your play with them. We also shared clothes a lot, and I remember that being a hard thing for me even though I never vocalized it. I prayed that no one would notice that I was wearing the same pink shirt my sister, who is a year younger than me, had been wearing just the day before. It was hard just living.
Furthermore, life without much highly effected my health. We could not afford healthy food. I have terrible asthma and anxiety disorder. While I can't exactly say that a poor diet directly contributed to my medical conditions, I can say that it affected the way I thought about many things as a child. I was oftentimes grateful of the school lunch which so many detest. Those sweaty sloppy joe sandwiches, and questionable lasangnas were usually my only meal for the day. The entire day. I even resorted to saving some of that food until I got home because I wanted to eat at home. This was true for many of the children in my region as well. I didn't see anyone stashing away school lunch, but I do know that a vast majority of them ate it. It was only until I went to middle school in a what I considered a ¨well-off¨ neighborhood that I realized in some places, eating school lunch was completely taboo. Nevertheless I gorged on the unhealthy stuff because it was all I had. I think I can contribute this to my being appreciative of most of the food I get today and it being the reason why I can't tell if food is good or bad (sometimes even if it is old) because of what I ate when I was young. That's what some would call bliss or a blessing, while others would call this a curse. I think it is a mixture of both.
I'll continue this later,
-E.
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