the American Mantra

There's a story I've felt called to tell.
  But, I've been frightened of telling it,
  for to tell it would be to expose me,
  my failings, my ineptness, my failure...

But, in falling prey to my personal vicious judge,
  I accept its brutal and vindictive pronouncements
  as real, as the definition of who I am.

Sometimes, I have the wherewithal to
  jump past this infernal and constant judgment-without-trial.
  And, in those fleeting moments, I remember

I am not that person.
  Those judgments are the very epitome
  of the socially-structured voice of this country
  against a large majority of its population.

Translated....

I have learned my lessons well,
  those lessons that have been pounded into me since childhood,
  those lessons that became embedded in my definition of me,
  those lessons that became the source and inspiration of my vision...

'I am independent.
  I am self made.
  I can be anything.
  I am responsible for my self and my life.
  If I try hard enough, study hard, work hard, give unrelentingly to my work,
  I will reap the rewards of my efforts.'

Sound familiar?
  Of course, it does.
  This is the American dream, plain and simple.
  I can hear the words over and again, the mantra
  in the background of my life, spoken from the kind man
  who lost everything in a country despoiled by war
  and found his way in America to happiness and comfort.

I believed him.
  I believed the story.  I saw him live it.  I lived it.
  I presumed it was my story as well.  I just presumed that.

So, I did what I was supposed to do.
  I worked hard.  I studied hard.  I worked harder, longer, unrelentingly, passionately.
  And, I believed.  I believed that my success or failure was mine and mine alone.
  I bought into it...all of it.

But then, life started to not make sense.
  Despite years of work and education and accomplishments,
  I couldn't find work.
  In denial and disbelief, I continued looking,
  now putting all my well-honed worker-bee, student skills
  into my new job of finding work...
  to no avail.

So, after careful evaluation of my circumstances,
  I decided that my skills were no longer marketable.
  I went back to school, seeking the new skills that
  would put me back on the track to the American dream.

Five years living and raising my kids in poverty...and a doctorate later,
  I sat at my computer, pounding out five-page cover letters,
  attaching them to my five-page resume and sending the
  package out to countless employers

none of whom regarded my application worth pursuing.

I had new skills though, which added to my previous set of skills,
  created a professional of significant potential.
  I combined this with marketing, persistence and various tactics to 'prove myself',
  and eventually landed myself part-time work.

Let me stop for just a moment to sit with the irony
  of the fact that after 20+ years as a professional
  and three advanced degrees culminating in a doctorate,
  I still had to prove myself.

Did you know that only 3% of women in the world
  earn their doctorates?

This all is not for the purpose of self aggrandizement.
  Believe me, I have internalized the American mantra
  far too deeply to ever presume I deserve work.

Of course, the part-time job eventually ended.
  But, I made the most of it, published papers and book chapters,
  consulted internationally with a premiere university and the United Nations,
  co-authored important and cutting-edge work on leadership...

That was 16 months ago.

And, what, you ask, have I been doing since?

I have been looking for work.

That's what I've been doing, looking for work.
  And mind you, I have considerable skills to bring to bear
  for this full-time endeavor.
  I have charts and plans and templates and processes
  out the ying-yang.

I have a list of 100+ jobs for which I have sent in
  six-page cover letters and a six-page resume.
  I have that list organized chronologically, by sector, and by job.

You want to know how to look for work?
  I can teach you.

You want to know how to actually get work?
  I haven't yet figured that one out.

Seems the algorithm my father...and America...taught me
  to achieve the American Dream
  isn't quite working.

And, of course, it must be my fault,
  my failing, my character flaws, me.
  Because it could never be a problem
  with the American dream.
  That would never,
  ever,
  even be considered.

Now, I am an incredibly frugal person.
  I live simply and carefully.  I recycle and reuse.
  I shop only at Goodwill and Fred Meyer
  and only for food and necessities.
  I no longer go out to eat or to the movies.
  I do not pay to exercise or to have fun.
  I got rid of 95% of my belongings, and rent out my home.
  I have been living in a room for three years.

I splurge only for my children and grandson,
  and those splurges have grown increasingly spare...and rare.

I lived seven years without health insurance.
  Of the many blessings I've been gifted, a strong body
  is one for which I can't even start to give enough thanks.
  It carried me through these many years, and failed me not.

But, ever aware of how easily I could fall from the meager table
  of opulent-poverty to destitution, I started changing my lifestyle.
  First, I stopped kayaking...because I might get in an accident and
  find myself with medical bills that a lifetime of payments wouldn't settle.

Then, I stopped the eye exams and switched eye doctors to
  find one that would fill an old prescription without requiring
  payment for another exam.  Unfortunately, the new doc is
  now requiring an exam and I don't have the money, so I live
  in prayer that these old glasses don't break.

Then, a tooth broke, clear down the middle.
  No dental plan, no dental work...period.
  Several years later, I found a way to address the problem.
  I worked in Viet Nam for a year and invested my earnings
  into dental work.  You see it's much cheaper there.

But, then I came home and the filling fell out,
  and another filling broke.  So, back to square one...
  hole in two teeth...oh I guess that's square one minus one.

Quick interlude...
  I tell this story not to get your pity.
  For God's sake, keep that to yourself!
  No, I tell it because I can.

For all the shit I've gone through the past decade,
  I have had the wherewithal to cope.
  I'm still standing.
  I will not give up.
  And, I've been gifted immeasurably
  in countless ways throughout my life.

I'm telling this story because of the many others
  who haven't been gifted as have I,
  for them,
  and for you.

Because, you see, material poverty
  is the child of spiritual poverty.

Material poverty cannot exist without
  a community that condones and supports it.
  And, a community that condones and supports
  material poverty suffers the plague of spiritual poverty.

In the end,
  we ARE
  all ONE.

What happens to one among us
  happens to us all.

There is a scourge in our midst,
  and it is not the poor person standing next to you.
  It a decrepit, deceitful story that entraps us all
  in its brutal grips, shaping our perception of reality,
  turning us against our own, teaching us apathy,
  and rewarding our collusion with its plot.

This is not about pity or feeling sorry for someone.
  This is not about charity or 'doing good' for 'those less fortunate'.
  This is not about doing your 'duty' as a Christian or a citizen.

This is about waking up to the shape of reality
  in which we live in this 'free' America.
  It is about uncovering the plot in this storyline
  and deciding we want to change it.

Because, there is one thing I still believe about Americans.
  We are smart and industrious and innovative and caring.
  If we can see the problem, we can fix it.

We just have to see it - really see it -
  be able to discern the storyline from the real story.

The real story is that we are
  ALL
  ONE.

We are community...every last one of us.
  And the fate of one
  IS
  the fate of all.