Unseen Barriers

Being homeless means I often get to see systemic barriers that often times people don’t really consider to be such. Beyond the fact that having a family is an enormous leg up, beyond credit scores (which don’t exist in other countries) blocking housing opportunities, beyond the fact you need an address for a job and a job for an address, and so on, I see other barriers that don’t often seem to be considered as such.

For instance, right now, I have almost two master’s degrees. The original plan was to teach in higher education. I had hoped to be a professor. Nevermind that I now wish I hadn’t gone to school. Or that originally, I had wanted to be an art professor, but a career counselor told a very vulnerable and lost version of myself desperate to break cycles of poverty and everything that comes along with it that arts are the first to get cut in a bad economy and that if I have any interest at all in English and writing, I should go that route. In the end, now, I have almost two degrees, which I thought would position me to teach higher education.

Take for instance a job ad for a college I came across that is “seeking highly motivated individuals who are interested in being part of a small yet dynamic community, with a faculty and staff that are dedicated to meeting the needs of our intersectional, diverse students. Cascadia College is committed to creating and supporting an equitable and inclusive faculty, staff, and student population centered on dismantling systemic oppression and historic marginalization. Individual differences are celebrated in a community of learners focused on social justice, diversity, equity and inclusion” and wants an equity statement with the following:

1. A description of a time when you recognized an equity issue. What was the issue? What did you do to make a difference? What did you learn about equity through this experience?
2. A detailed description of how you are seeking to learn more about equity related issues including but not limited to race, gender, LGBTQ+, disability (ableism), age (ageism), socioeconomic class, and body diversity.
3. An explanation of how you will contribute to equity at Cascadia (i.e. closing the achievement gap and raising the retention rates amongst historically marginalized students), as well as actively work against the institutionalized norms of oppression against historically marginalized people.

With my personal experiences, I am pretty uniquely positioned to perhaps excel in this position. My biological father was in prison my entire life. My mother was a depressed, emotionally stunted pill addict. I have been alone and “poor” my entire life and witness to everything that comes with that. I know the affects on both micro and macro levels of socioeconomic class. My writings very much focus on class issues. My late brother was hit by a drunk driver when he was ten years old and sustained a traumatic brain injury, and so I have a lot of experience with and empathy for those with disabilities. My mother is also disabled. I am part of the lgbtq+ population. Having had no real family or support system, I know even the subtlest hurdles and forms of isolation that come with being an impoverished student in higher education among peers who do not share that same experience. And I believe that this personal experience of mine would contribute wonderfully to a college with such goals.

However, their requirement of experience and references contradict their mission and also pose as a systemic barrier to those they claim they want to uplift. I am just as smart and capable as anyone else, but my experience of being poor in America and the societal assumptions surrounding it, and perhaps the anxiety and psychological stress of the effects and isolation of struggling, has contributed to the prevention of gaining experience and having references. While just over the sea in Denmark, students are provided with a living stipend they never have to pay back, which I imagine levels the playing field some between the haves and have nots, student debt disproportionately affects those from impoverished backgrounds on top of the plethora of other things that affect those experiencing poverty. So, despite a special kind of tenacity having stuck it through, my experience in higher education was constantly weighed down with how I’m going to balance the work load of a master’s program, debt, and keeping a roof over my head. My peers were not only better prepared, but they had the financial, mental, and physical space to solely focus on their education and take on teaching assistant positions that would prepare them for their future careers. As a first generation student who had no foresight or modeling or guidance, I had no conscious idea that that was what they were essentially for, nor did I have the space or time. I entered school later than many, in my thirties, and it was a painfully eye opening experience. I listened to peers talk of lifestyles I could barely fathom, that up until then seemed half mythical — world travel, studying overseas, family stories, holiday stories, groups of people who actually loved them and supported them. Something warm to always return to. They lived in beautiful apartments with no real evidence of how they were personally affording them, they’d fly out on breaks, they’d party and spend lavishly, and they didn’t worry much about how much time they would or could spend on their school work. They also formed comeraderies I was never really a part of. It’s a weird spot to be in as a first gen student from a broken background, by the way, because you no longer relate to the people from which you came and the people around you can’t relate to you. Throughout my time in the master’s program, I struggled with housing insecurity, was constantly in a panic, dealt with the death of my brother due to poverty related issues, dealt with the constant bombardment of complaints and worries from a sick mother who couldn’t regulate her emotions or get adequate care, and was constantly in a survival mode my peers could never fathom. Somehow, I graduated with a 4.0. Which shows an enormous amount of tenacity and strength. But I was not able to acquire the experience that my peers were able to.

Another thing is, when you are part of a lower class (which is all arbitrary and made up), people have less desire to associate with you. Nevermind I’m a whole ass person with a huge heart that is totally aware of this and feels this. We live in a society that unfortunately measures your worth for what you do and have, not for who you are. If you are on the struggle bus and have not acquired the skills necessary, often due to poverty itself, to obtain a better lot, and if you have nothing, the less people notice you or want anything to do with you. The isolation that comes with being on the struggle bus ends up in not really being able to obtain letters of recommendation.

These requirements, then, contradict their mission. And they don’t know it because privilege blinds — those who have never truly been through it really don’t know.

Most places have this requirement. But how are you supposed to get experience if nobody will give you the chance to get experience?