Well, I’m off and running. Second day, second post. This one is about an experience similar to one I experience frequently, the attempts to help women who are down and out, followed by scorning the woman once she pulls herself out of the depths and into the middle class. Now she is one of “them”. If a woman is successful, no one will see past her clothing or her manner. Her hard won success has now become a mark of her lifelong privilege. Sound familiar? And funny, I don’t usually see it happening to men. I wonder why?

NEVER POOR

Anabelle was tired. It had been a long day, and now she had to cook dinner for two wailing kids and a man who wouldn’t help. She wished her brother would at least get a job so he could bring in some money, but he was sure he would make his fortune as a vlogger any day. “You wouldn’t want me to be out working on the day I would make a million dollar video, would you?” He thought he was using logic, but to her it sounded like delusion.

She hefted the backpack; it seemed so heavy these days, but it was easier than carrying a stack of books and notebooks without it. She tried that once. Everything was on the ground before she got three steps away from the bus. No one stopped to help her, but a couple of kids took her picture as she bent over to pick them up. Nathan was giggling with her kids after dinner, seeing a picture of her butt online. “It’s trending, Mama!” Oliver was excited; of course, at five, he got excited easily.

The bus was crowded and no one wanted to give up their seat. She leaned against the seat back; there wasn’t even a strap to hang on to. The woman in the seat glared at her, but they were crammed so close together there wasn’t much they could do. Anabelle was glad she got off at the second station; she didn’t have to wait long to be back out in the air. She trudged six blocks and turned down the dimly lit street she called home. The house was not dimly lit; Nathan had all the lights on again.

“Honestly, Nate, if you’re gonna leave all the lights on, you could at least get a paper route to pay the electric bill!” She dropped her books, glared at her brother lounging on the sofa with his feet on her coffee table, and headed to the kitchen to make dinner. She came back. “Where is Sophie?” She kicked his feet off the table.

“Don’t know. She was here a minute ago.” He didn’t look up from the graphic novel he was reading.

She found Sophie in the basement, tied to the dog. She might never found her if the dog hadn’t howled. “Jessie, you are a great girl. Thank you for watching Sophie for me.” She untied the dog from the post and the girl from the dog. Sophie was subdued. Anabelle spent the rest of the evening yelling at her brother for letting Oliver tie his sister up. “You’re supposed to be watching them. It’s the least you can do for your food and your room!” She slammed pans in the kitchen to let him know she was angry and slapped his plate on the table. She couldn’t afford china; the plastic plate wouldn’t break.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, right? She married early and was pregnant at nineteen. Oliver was only a year old when she got pregnant again…Sophie came along, a darling but a lot more work. Then…Caleb walked out. No reason, no explanation, just a note saying “I’m gone.” Child Welfare hadn’t been able to find him, so no child support. She was still officially married to a man she hadn’t seen in eighteen months. Rumor had it he moved to Australia. She couldn’t track him down. She didn’t have any money.

Why did she believe in Prince Charming? Sure, Caleb was charming, but he was no prince. He was…more of a pauper. He worked more than Nathan, but you could work three days a year and hurdle that bar. She kept the household running, and she’d like to say she never complained, but she wasn’t that much of a saint. She did her share of yelling, yes, but so did he.

She wasn’t sorry to see him go, but it left her in a bind. She didn’t have any options. Her parents didn’t have money, either. They couldn’t help her. She was considering drastic acts when someone told her it was possible to get grants to go to school. She checked it out; it paid her tuition and most of her books. She worked overtime to buy the rest of the books and the other things she’d need, but it left her dragging at the end of the day. If only…

If only nothing. Life wasn’t dreams, it was reality. She tucked Sophie into her crib and dropped into bed. Her sleep was restless, like always, and her dreams were disturbing, but she made it through the night and was up early to get breakfast before she left for work. Breakfast shift, then school, then dinner shift. It was her longest day of the week, and she took Sophie and Oliver to her mother. She couldn’t trust Nathan.

The first semester nearly destroyed her, but by the time it was over, she developed a routine. She entered her next semester with less worry, though not with less exhaustion. She resigned herself to being exhausted every day until she finished. Her friends were supportive, and the school gave her as much help as they could. She discovered Student Services had a food pantry, and they were able to help her, save her some money to pay her other bills.

The four years…well, they didn’t blow by like nothing, but they passed quicker than she expected. She was a graduate! A girl who barely made it through high school graduated from college on the honor roll. She shook hands with the college president, took the empty container he handed her for show, and took her seat, so proud and happy she almost burst. Her mother sat with Sophie and Oliver, now old enough to understand some of what was going on, and why their mother was so tired all the time.

“I…I interviewed for a job yesterday”, Anabelle told her mother when they went to lunch afterward. They splurged and went to a fast food restaurant. Mom didn’t think Anabelle should have to cook her own celebration luncheon. “I have a good feeling about it. It’s not great pay, but it’s better than what I’m making, and there would be no more night shifts and no split shifts. And the chance to move up.”

“Good luck”, Mom mumbled, her mouth full of French fries. Anabelle cringed; she was the only one in the family who learned public manners.

She didn’t get that job, but the next interview led to an offer. She entered the professional work force, leaving French fries and surly customers behind. After she’d been there a year, her boss encouraged her to continue her education. “We have a program that would pay your tuition, but you’d have to promise us you’d stay five years.” Anabelle accepted.

School was challenging, and she had to go mostly at night, but she loved doing research. Armed with her masters, she moved up in the company and decided to try for her doctorate. Hey, why not? If she didn’t succeed, at least she tried. She plunged in with both feet. It was easier now that the kids were teens and could take care of themselves most of the time. Well, there was that day she came home and found Sophie tied to the dog in the basement…but at least this time it was a joke and Sophie was in on it. “That wasn’t nice to Joey”, she scolded, giving the dog a treat. “He deserves better.” She laughed, but didn’t let them see. They needed to treat Joey better.

The kids didn’t complain when she remarried. They liked Luke, her new husband, and he treated them well. She was in charge of the lab now, the one where she started as a lab assistant all those years ago. She published several key papers, and was cited in numerous other papers. She was able to go to work and come home without bone deep tired. Oh, she still got tired, but it was a satisfying tired, the kind of tired that comes from working a satisfying job and living a satisfying life. She was the first one in her family who could say that, and it felt good. She worked hard to get there.

It caught her off guard the day she went to work and found the lab being picketed. They didn’t do animal testing, or anything else controversial. She couldn’t imagine what the problem was. She was astounded to see signs saying “Stop Science!” and “Don’t let Elite Scientists Rule You!” She tried to speak to one of the protestors, and the girl spit on her.

“You don’t have a clue.” The girl finally agreed to speak to Anabelle. “You elite scientists, coming from privileged backgrounds, giving every possible opportunity. What do you know of what it’s like to be hungry? To be cold? To be tired? To be poor?”

“You know, I might be able to help you.” Anabelle recognized the insignia; the girl went to an Ivy League school. She probably knew much less than Anabelle did about being poor. “I have had my share of difficult times, and maybe I can help lift you out of the abyss if you need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t need anyone to talk to.” The girl snorted with contempt. “I stand for others, not just myself. I care about people and their needs. I’m trying to help them get out from under the heel of elitists.”

“You mean, like people who go to Yale?” Anabelle spoke gently. The girl was young. She meant well.

“Oh, fuck off.” The girl lifted her sign and started chanting.

Anabelle shrugged and went to her office. She shared the story with Clyde, her lab assistant, also born poor. He was working his way through school, hoping someday he would be able to work in the lab permanently.

“Yeah, it’s a laugh.” Clyde laughed, to demonstrate. “Right now, everyone is eager to help me succeed. I’m poor, they get me help, find me grants, and encourage me. When I graduate and pull myself up? I’ll be elite, someone born to succeed, in their eyes. Can’t win, huh?”

Anabelle laughed with him. All the kids standing out there waving signs, demanding someone help the poor…the moment the poor were helped, they would scorn them. After all, moving from poverty to middle class was the goal…but once you were there, you were the enemy. She put the protestors out of her mind and continued her work.