I just got my stimulus check. As a married father of two, my family received $3,400.
The money has provided peace of mind in arguably the most tumultuous month of our country’s history. I’ve watched my retirement savings and kids’ college investments lose 20% of their value. I wonder how COVID-19 will affect the value of my home as well as future family vacations and social activities for my kids. Having a few thousand dollars infused into my bank account eases my fears.
Additionally, this month has been full of consternation. Despite having stable employment and a reliable income, I worry as my kids frolic outside. If they fall, will they get the best medical care like always? There have been stark conversations about food inventories and the availability of food in my household. I’m frustrated by the restrictions that keep me from tackling various home repair projects. I’ve lost sleep over the possibility of going without.
If this has you rolling your eyes, and bemoaning “Woe is me!” Good. My privilege is clear. Aside from judiciously limiting trips to Lowe’s and consumption of milk, my way of life has hardly been threatened.
And, that’s the rub. It sure feels like this stimulus check is motivated by the pain and discomfort that folks like me have been experiencing. Recently, a very conservative friend of mine defended the stimulus checks by explaining that the current crisis is not an individual crisis making it worthy of government intervention. He’s right. This is not an individual crisis. It is a series of individual crises, making it a social crisis worthy of government intervention.
However, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture in 2018, 11% of households, comprising 37 million people, lived in food insecure households. According to The Federal Reserve Bank’s 2019 report on the economic well-being of Americans, roughly 40% of Americans would struggle, or be unable, to make an unexpected $400 payment. Again, this is a series of millions of personal crises, yet somehow these don’t rank as a social crisis. Nonetheless, when enough privileged folks like myself start to feel a pinch, what for others has been a personal crisis quickly becomes a social one.
In the same vein, when major corporations feel the pinch, it too is a social crisis. One need to look no further than the bailouts being announced this week for major airlines. Where are the questions about poor planning? Where are the criticisms about why and how these corporations can afford nice things like comfortable office space as well as company cellphones and cars? How have these big institutions not planned and saved for an emergency? We ask people living in poverty such questions when they struggle to put food on the plate or pay their rent on time.
Moreover, providing housing, food or tuition subsidies to the poor are frequently criticized for instilling laziness and dissolving motivations to succeed. These critiques are frequently used to condemn poor folks — in particular poor folks of color. Yet, just the other day, I watched a woman of color who was slightly disheveled, wearing clothes a bit too small, deliver groceries to my house. It seemed pretty clear she was doing what I felt uncomfortable doing because she needed to pay her bills. How is my stimulus check deserved, but a working person living in poverty and getting a benefit is a leech?
COVID-19 has highlighted the tenacity and societal value of low-income workers who stock shelves at grocery stores, work as hospital receptionists and pick up the trash. But a month ago when those folks were struggling to make rent or put gas in their cars, it was their problem. Now that me and families like mine share those worries, it’s everyone’s concern. How quickly times change.
Too often in our society, privileged folks and institutions look at the personal crises of others as a matter of individual responsibility: suck it up and rub some dirt on it. But, when personal crises arise for the privileged, it’s everyone’s concern. The shame is not in recognizing this; the shame is allowing such a system to continue.
Adam Sutton (MisterSutton1@gmail.com) is a teacher and writer who lives in Towson.