#financial privilege

And now we also feel safe planning seriously for Iceland!

From the new series on Fiction Advocate -- 

How I Got Here: You Learn, I Pay

Privilege is a topic that doesn’t always receive the subjectivity and nuance it deserves. In “How I Got Here,” writers reflect on their experience of privilege (or lack thereof) in their writing careers. We hope these personal essays will help us appreciate the complexities of individual experience and view each other in a clearer light.

An MFA is a shot in the dark. It is a degree that costs thousands and thousands of dollars to pursue and yet has absolutely zero (0) guarantee of any type of employment. You get an MFA out of sheer love or delusion. When I applied to writing programs in the fall of 2011, I did so simply because I knew I loved writing and wanted to get better at it. I also applied because I had, and have had for my entire life, my own personal patrons of the arts.

There have been many calls lately for writers and artists to be more transparent about their financial situations, from the Twitter hashtag #PublishingPaidMe to essay collections to this very series. I remember when I first read Ann Bauer’s essay on Salon about how her heart surgeon husband “sponsors” her writing career and how much I appreciated her honesty. So, let me lay it all out there for you. When it comes to education, the rule in my family is: they pay, no questions asked. It’s like that scene in The Sopranos, when Meadow’s boyfriend tries to pay for Tony’s dinner and Tony is pissed. But instead of “You eat, I pay,” it’s: “You learn, I pay.”

Education has always been a big deal in my family. Both of my parents have Master’s degrees, my mother’s specifically in Music Education, which she used as a piano teacher. Both of my grandmothers achieved higher ed degrees at a time when it wasn’t common for women to even complete high school. My paternal grandfather nearly completed a PhD from MIT in engineering (everything but the dissertation); my maternal grandfather dropped out of law school, but he did so to take over a local driving school because he loved to teach kids how to use cars. Classes, studying, learning, teaching, books—I was taught that these were the most valuable types of currency. I knew from a very young age that there were limits to what I was allowed to ask for in a toy store or a clothing boutique, but the local bookstore? The word “no” did not exist there. In middle school, I memorized my dad’s credit card number so I could order books on the Barnes & Noble website without bothering him (so advanced for 1998!), and he never questioned what I was buying, as long as it was books. He also never questioned how much I was buying because he had access to that other, more literal type of currency—money.

His eyes grew large and glossy. You could see the shared pain he felt as he talked about his sister's misfortune.

"She was a housewife her 50's. Unbeknownst to her, her husband began hiding money and hired a lawyer. He left her with nothing. Having never worked, she had no modern skillsets, " he continued on, but now he was looking at me, the only female in this elective highschool class on accounting, " She had nothing. Get married if you want. Have a family. But work! Protect yourself and your future"

I could see this woman. Her trust in her partnership. The same trust my mother has in my father, like so many of their generation. The betrayal she must have felt. There are so many aspects that go into a marriage, but looking at it through the lens of money, this is particularly painful with a lifetime of consequences. These days, most states have laws to protect against this situation. Regardless of government protection or not, the message was clear to me. Love... but protect yourself.

Dad: weather station, calendar made with his granddaughter's photos. Mom: a monogrammed puppy blanket and calendar (Christmas), a Schitt's Creek "Rose Apothecary" tote bag with a copy of 1619 in it for her birthday in January. In Laws: calendar (husband is getting them new golf gloves and a gift certificate to their club's restaurant). Husband: digital frame and some Star Trek office supplies (stocking). Teachers: gift cards. Mailman/Milk Deliverer: gift cards.

Minus my mom's birthday present this is $310 and all purchased!

I still need to make a small gift basket for the teachers (some sheet masks, lotion, and other pampering things to share with all the teacher assistants), get a few stocking items for husband and dad (just the usual batteries, chap stick, car freshener type things), and something for one of the three step nieces/nephews (of the three, only one sends us something, so I send them something - usually an age appropriate book recommended from a feminist book store I like to give holiday business to). I also plan on making truffles for my coworkers.