There was a striking post not long ago on the Humans of New York Facebook page that left a profound impact on me. It featured an older gentleman reflecting on poverty and the notion of “bootstraps.” He shared, “I once thought that a poor person simply needed a prescription: ‘Get a job, save your money, pull yourself up by the bootstraps.’ I’ve come to realize how ignorant that perspective is.” His words resonated with me deeply.
I embody what it means to be part of the working poor. My partner and I both hold full-time jobs, and I even juggle a part-time gig on the side, yet each month feels like a battle. For so long, I felt ashamed of our financial struggles. Despite adhering to the tenets of the so-called American Dream—earning a degree, marrying, starting a family, and buying a home—I find myself suffocated by debt. With my current income trajectory, it’s likely I’ll pass on a hefty student loan debt and a mortgage burden to the next generation.
No matter how diligently I work, I remain one paycheck away from financial catastrophe. Monthly, I map out our bills and attempt to sync them with our paydays. If a school event arises that requires a purchase, I scrutinize the calendar, contemplating which bill I can defer for another week. I’ve memorized the grace periods for each bill, knowing that if I can’t pay the electric bill this month, I can still keep the power on next month if I make a partial payment by the 15th.
Living this way is exhausting, yet (for the time being) I hesitate to seek assistance. I recognize that there are families in more dire situations, and I remind myself that we are fortunate to have food, shelter, and safety. As for those bootstraps? I’ve heard the term all my life, and I’ve got a firm grip on mine, pulled as tight as possible. Yet, it still falls short.
This past Christmas, we fell nearly three months behind on our mortgage just to afford propane for heating, purchase a few gifts, and buy our kids warm winter coats and boots. Meanwhile, our only car has worn-out tires, and my child’s rare genetic condition requires us to pay thousands monthly, as we don’t qualify for any assistance programs. I often lie awake at night, wondering how we’ll manage these expenses.
Living paycheck to paycheck is our reality, and I know I’m not alone. The Center for Poverty Research at the University of California, Davis defines the working poor as those who spend a significant portion of the year employed or searching for work but whose earnings remain below the poverty line. The federal poverty threshold varies based on family size; in 2014, about 45 million Americans lived below this line, representing 14.5% of the U.S. population.
As daunting as the present feels, conditions may worsen under current political leadership, which has not favored the poor and middle classes. Reports suggest that the economic policies of the Trump administration could lead to severe cuts in programs vital for low- and middle-income families. For families like mine, this has pushed us closer to extreme poverty. The thought of losing our healthcare is unbearable, especially since my child’s rare disorder demands consistent financial resources to maintain his health. My 50-plus hour work weeks often feel futile under these circumstances.
When I hear discussions about bootstraps, I think of my grandparents, who lived during a time of economic prosperity. They had the means to pull themselves up and pursue their dreams. As for me? I’ve strained, I’ve toiled, and I’m buried in debt for a modest home and an education that hasn’t yielded a job that can cover our needs.
This winter, while my children wore their new coats and boots to school, I trudged through the snow in my old sneakers, unable to afford proper footwear. We will find a way to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, but it comes at a significant cost to my health and mental well-being. My experience is not one of laziness; being part of the working poor is a relentless and unfair challenge. The false assumptions around economic mobility only add to the frustration.
When that gentleman on Humans of New York admitted his ignorance toward the struggles of the poor and articulated the reality of modern poverty, I felt a glimmer of hope. Finally, someone was vocalizing a struggle that mirrors my own.
I am the face of the working poor, and I want you to see me.
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In summary, the struggles of the working poor are real and often overlooked. Many of us are working tirelessly yet still living paycheck to paycheck, grappling with debt and a lack of resources. It’s crucial to shed light on these experiences and recognize the dignity in every individual’s struggle.
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