v.39 Proximity, Privilege, and the Truth in Between
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, share ideas, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
I didn’t grow up far from where I live now. Maybe thirty minutes away. But the distance between those two lives is bigger than the physical distance sounds. I grew up in an under resourced working-class neighborhood in New Jersey. We didn’t have a lot, but we had each other. My mother raised four kids (plus other folks kids), often on her own. We didn’t have a car or a house that we owned. We weren’t talking about access or generational wealth but instead, the bare necessities.
Now I live in a neighborhood where people dress their dogs in matching rain jackets (true story.) We live in a beautiful apartment, I have a partner I love, and a fridge that stays (over) full. I drive a car instead of relying on a taxi that may or may not show up. And I get to write and speak for a living, something my younger self didn’t even know was a real job. I’m proud of this life. But I didn’t arrive here on sheer willpower nor did I bootstrap my way up and out of poverty. I arrived here through a mix of hard work, timing, education, privilege and yes, also luck.
But we don’t like to talk about that part. Instead, we recycle this fantasy of bootstrapping, where everyone who has “made it” must have earned it, and everyone who hasn’t must not have tried hard enough. That story is easier to digest than the truth, but it’s also dangerous. It convinces people to mask their exhaustion, perform perfection, and stay silent about the support they’ve had along the way. And it gives the most comfortable among us permission to disengage. Because if success is earned, then struggle must be deserved. Right?
That myth keeps us so very disconnected. We’ve created a culture where people confuse exhaustion with character, and productivity with worth. We keep striving and performing, instead of looking around and asking better questions. I’ve seen both sides. I remember what it was like to see my mom rationing groceries while praying the check cleared quickly enough. And I know what it feels like to walk through a life that feels inherently safe. That doesn’t make me special. It makes me accountable.
I carry both realities. I come from a family that knew how to stretch, survive, and keep going. And today I live with comfort, stability, and choice. That contrast shaped how I see everything. I don’t feel guilty for what I have but I do feel responsible for telling the truth about how I got here. Not the polished version. The real one. Because pretending that comfort is only ever earned keeps us disconnected from each other. And the more we ignore that, the easier it is to stop caring about anything (and everything) at all.
This week’s microjoy: A delightful surprise to find out that Bookshop.org is promoting MICROJOYS this month in support of Mental Health Awareness. And also, it’s 20% off while you support your local small bookstore. Go on and pick up a copy of MICROJOYS or any other of your fave books this month. Books are filled with many, many microjoys.
P.S. Per usual, if this resonated with you- PLEASE repost, comment, share and spread the word.
Welcome to Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
