Bring Out the Fall Coats: Frustrations about Students in College Who Pretend to be Poor
Before I started writing this article, my roommate and best friend asked me, “What’s your next Her Campus article going to be about?” I tell her all about my writing, so I answered honestly: “It’s about people at Kenyon who pretend to be poor.” She glanced at me for a second. “Oh,” she replied, “so it’s on everyone at Kenyon.”
It’s a bit of a funny exaggeration — but only a bit. The awful truth is that most of my close friends are from low socioeconomic backgrounds. Our parents are not very educated. We can’t imagine what it’s like to hit six figures for an annual salary — seriously, that’s the dream. Many of us cannot afford to go home for extended breaks (like the week-long break we get for Thanksgiving or our two-week Spring Break), much less for long weekends like October Break.
So when October Break passed recently, my friends all sat around talking (not for the first time) about the weird class dynamic at Kenyon: people do not want to admit how wealthy they are. There’s this pervading guilt when anyone brings up the statistics: 19.8% of Kenyon students come from the 1%. 48% of Kenyon students come from the top 5%. In comparison, only 12.2% of us come from the bottom 60%. The median family income here is $213, 500. That is astonishing. That’s more than 5 times what my mother will make in a single year. Whether we want to admit it or not, this is the campus that we are living on. And when you’re within the minority, it’s really infuriating to see the ways in which people ignore their class privilege here.
It’s so upsetting to grow up without money; there’s an embarrassment that infiltrates most waking moments. This is especially upsetting when you are a person of color. Everything you do, after all, feels like a reflection of your culture—there’s not really any room for mistakes. But rich students at Kenyon will wear clothes with holes in them, clothes bought at an obscure thrift store or a Goodwill, because they’re cute. It’s fashionable and easy, for most students (at Kenyon, but at most other campuses as well) to pretend to not come from privileged backgrounds. At liberal schools like this, it allows them to receive the benefit of the doubt when they make questionable classist comments in a course or constantly bring up their parents’ high-paying professions. They’ll even make the argument that college has made everyone broke.To that I call bullshit. No, you don’t live “in the ghetto” because you’re in McBride and not Gund. I’m sorry that you “might not understand middle America.” (Yes, these are actual quotes from Kenyon students).
My friends and I would all love to wear non-torn, non-stained, non-hand-me-down clothing. The difference between your college poverty and ours is that your parents have had the ability to provide you with most of the things you’ve wanted in life. If you leave here without a solid plan, you might have the kind of parents who are financially able to continue supporting you beyond college. Even short-term, as winter draws nearer, you have the benefit of pulling out thick, warm, name-brand coats and putting away your torn-up clothing until it benefits you again. Consider the fact that some of your classmates do not. Think about the classmates who went an entire Ohio winter without a thick jacket. Think about the classmates who miss home but who cannot afford to go see their families while you fly out to music festivals or Broadway shows for a day. Think about me, sitting in anthropology, scared out of my mind when a documentary very blatantly tells me that my health and lifespan are at a significant disadvantage because of my class while several of my classmates snooze through this information—because it doesn’t affect them, really.
If this feels like an attack, then you are probably the person I am hoping to address. I understand working for nice things. I understand that because of debt and family size and a number of other factors, income is not immediately determinant of social class. To those of you who have felt the struggle of embarrassment or sadness because you could not participate in some college activity, or who have had to juggle the monetary stress of being able to stay at Kenyon in place of your parents because they do not have the education to help you, I see you. I believe in you. You will work through this and still have an incredible experience here.
I also admit that I, too, am incredibly privileged to be here. This is a great school. I’m happy to be living out my high school dreams here. Sometimes, I like to think that I “got away” from my hometown before remembering that people are still living really fulfilling lives there, that I might still go back and live a fulfilling life there. I enjoy a lot of privileges here that others do not (I own a winter coat, as a small example).
But if you’ve never had to worry about dressing up, about filling out financial aid forms on your own, about how you will manage another job—not for experience, but for sheer necessity—on top of your schoolwork, then I urge you to begin listening to those of your peers who are from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. We are tired, and at the end of the day, we cannot shed away our poverty like you can. Please. Just listen to us instead of trying to emulate our disadvantages.
Image Credit: Feature, 1, 2, 3