Privilege and Perspective

Privilege

This is a hot topic in the FIRE community, and it's something that we have explicitly tried our best to avoid on this blog.  Not for any reason other than it's a touchy topic. We like to keep it fairly light around here.  Unfortunately this post isn't going to be one of those, it might be a little tough to read, so be fair warned.

Alas, I threw myself under the bus last time.  I started complaining about how we aren't amassing large amounts of wealth nearly fast enough for my liking.

C'mon Man... Really?!?!

In that very article I called myself Veruca Salt, the spoiled brat from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  Fitting.

As soon as I hit the publish button, I started to feel the pangs of regret and this post started writing itself.

So, who is privileged?

In almost every way you can look at it, we are privileged:

Both of us grew up in middle class homes, both sets of our parents are still married.

We both went to good colleges, and both have a master's degree.  I still have some loans from that.  Manageable balances, but I have them.  The Mrs. has none.

We both have very well paying professions that are in high demand.

We rent a house on the west side of Los Angeles, some of the most expensive real estate in the country.

We own two cars and a motorcycle.

We are both healthy, and we're in a happy marriage.

We are well on our way to saving a huge sum of money.  Enough to allow us to stop working before we are 40.

I could go on, but yeah, we're privileged.

Maybe you can't check off all of those boxes, but my guess is you are fairly privileged as well.  I know what you are thinking:

How can you know that?  You don't know me!  You don't know what I've been through!!  I worked hard for what I have!

My awakening

We just returned from Cape Town, South Africa.  We were lucky enough to meet some of the locals.  After several drinks, we started asking about how much life has changed over the course of the last 20 years.  Most of the folks we met are what they call "born free" or born after apartheid officially ended.

Apartheid in South Africa is a sore spot in the history of the country.  It officially ended in 1991, but it's still prevalent today and the effects are going to take generations to filter out of society.

The basics are this: society is segmented by race.  If you were not of a favorable race, you were delegated to the ghettos and unable to get employment and thrown in prison for various offenses such as being on the wrong side of the street, or sitting on the wrong park bench.

The lime quary Mandela did hard labor in for 18 years as a political prisoner.

How was your race determined?  They put a pencil in your hair and you shook your head, if the pencil fell out you're good to go!

In the process of this, the government rounded up all the people from a vibrant area of Cape Town known as district 6.  They forced them out of their homes and into shanty towns or "townships".  Upon completion of the move, the government promptly bulldozed that entire area of town.  Today, it's being rebuilt, but it's still mostly a grass field in the middle of the city.

Our new friend told us of how she grew up in one of these "townships".  Her parents knew the value of education, and since the official Apartheid had ended, the schools were now integrated.  They lied to the government about their address and their family background to get their children into better schools.

She laughed, "My entire life is a lie.  I'm here with you now, because of that."  Even today, she can't use her real name when calling to look at an apartment, or applying for a job.  Simply because the legacy of apartheid still exists.

Now, let me ask you, are you privileged?

 

In January, we traveled to Cambodia as part of a medical mission.  I had the esteemed honor of being a box carrier and managing crowd control, while the variety of medical professionals worked their magic.

We were provided lunch every day and every day it was chicken soup and rice.  It didn't take long for people to start complaining and then stop eating the lunch that was provided.

On our last day, myself and one of the other volunteers were grabbing the final boxes before leaving the hospital.  As I was walking out with the last box, a flurry of people came out of the woodwork and started scavenging through everything we had left behind.

These folks looked at me as I walked away, they spoke no English, but I knew what they were asking:

Can we have this food?

I nodded at them, and they began to pull all the scraps and left overs off the tables and out of the trash cans.

You see these were the janitors and the cleaning crew from the local hospital we were stationed at.  They lived in cardboard boxes and other makeshift dwellings behind the buildings, out of sight, and were only allowed to come out once we had left.

Most people on the mission were none the wiser to this.  But, our scraps, what we had discarded and left to rot, was going to feed them for a week.

As I mounted the bus, the emotion of it hit me, and I started to tear up, much like I am now just thinking about it.

Again, allow me to ask, are you privileged?

The Makeshift Hospital in Cambodia

 

During that same mission, a lady hobbled through the gate.  She looked weathered, but not as old as some of the other folks that we had seen, but she needed as much, if not more, assistance to reach the triage tent.  Her hands were mangled, her legs were crooked and bent in a way that made walking very difficult.

I talked to the doctor that finally saw her to get her story:

She was 53 years old.  When she was in her teens, the Khmer Rouge tied her to a tree and broke both of her arms and legs as punishment, then she was thrown back into the rice patty to work.  While she was tied to the tree, she witnessed the brutal murder of her father and brother.  Their crime?  Not having callused hands, they weren't working hard enough.  Her arms and legs were never given the proper chance to heal, so the bones solidified in a way that makes it excruciating to function in daily life.   She's been dealing with it for 35 years.

So, one last time, are you privileged?

Are you privileged?

I'm going to argue that you are.

How do I know this?

Judging by the stats on our traffic, 99% of you are coming from the US, Canada or Europe.  I could stop here, but I'll continue.

You're interested in this blog, which means you at least have the financial wherewithal to save a significant amount of your income and make progress toward a huge unattainable goal for most of the population.

You're reading this on either a smart phone, or computer.  Which means you have access one or both of those.

You have access to electricity and internet service to get this data.

Quite frankly, you're reading this, which means you have your eye-sight and you've had access to an education.

Privilege isn't bad, just acknowledge it.  Accept it.  Remember to help those that might not have the same advantages.

Perspective

Last time we talked about perspective, and how that can frame your way of thinking.  How looking at a situation from a different point of view can change your perception of it.

This is still true.  It's just different.  We all have problems.  Sometimes it may seem like our world is going to end.  It happens, it happens to the best of us.  It happens to me all the time, but, when it does, try to keep life in perspective.

I'll leave you with a quote from a recent article I read in The Atlantic, it's well worth the 30 minutes or so to read:

"Human beings of the 9.9 percent variety also routinely conflate the stress of status competition with the stress of survival. No, failing to get your kid into Stanford is not a life-altering calamity."

Perspective... It's a wonderful thing.