In this essay, Noah Smith articulates an important part of my own experience:
I grew up in the 1980s in a small house with only one bathroom shared between four people. The floor was linoleum. There was a carport instead of a garage, and we had one beat-up used Toyota Tercel hatchback. I don’t remember when we got our first color TV, but when I was young we had a black-and-white one that my grandmother gave us. Our furniture was all second-hand and we kept the couches covered up with worn old blankets.
When I was young, I mowed lawns for money. As a high school kid, I signed up to pick cotton by hand (!!) for an agricultural research project at Texas A&M University, for minimum wage. I have also worked as a cashier. Twice in my life, I have been a member of a labor union, and I have marched in a strike.
I have never once considered myself part of the working class.
Why not? Because I have never thought of class as being defined by a present snapshot of someone’s lifestyle or material circumstances. Instead, I always thought of class as being about someone’s potential. And I grew up always knowing that my economic potential went far beyond the rather humble circumstances of my early childhood.
Like Smith, I have at times been quite poor in my life: for the first three years after my parents divorced, when I left college and moved to Williamsburg, Virginia with no job prospects, during graduate school. But I was never a poor person; I was a middle class person who happened to have no money. I knew I would one day have a lot more, and eventually I did.





















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