Cultural Conversation 4 - Class

Assignment 4: Your Experience of Socio-Economic Class

I live in a garage apartment in the back of my parent’s house. I have always lived with my parents, except for a year in Austin when I was 19 and a year when I was 36 had a very well paying job in the oilfield industry. When I moved back into my parent’s home after I lost my well-paying job (long story) my parents thought it best that I move into the garage apartment, which I also believed to be very prudent, considering we get along as well as you might expect in such a situation.

After I moved in, my parents then started using a maid service, and also had my place cleaned up once a month.

Now, I don’t know about where you live, but in south Texas, a maid service means that several illegal immigrants from South or Central America come to your house, and you pay them about as half as much as you would pay a white person.

I use the term white person speculatively; I don’t actually know any white people you would be able to pay to clean your house. Don’t know any African-Americans who would do it, either. There are Mexican–Americans who will do it, but they probably don’t talk about it much (I would hazard to guess), and they are forced to accept the prevailing rate. If one of them said to my family, “Goddamnit, I am a citizen, you have to pay me a fair wage.”, I would expect that we (the family) would never, ever speak to this person again, and not because we would resent paying them the extra money, but because we would be far too ashamed by the exchange to ever want to speak about it.

I should point out here that my family consists of my Mom and Aunt, who are assimilated Mexican-Americans, my father, who is an Anglo, and me, who calls himself not-white. What does all this mean? I have no idea.

On a practical basis, it means that we act in an entirely schizophrenic manner about the cleaning people. When they come to my place, I try to clean up as much of my mess as possible. I clean the toilet and the counter of my bathroom, because I can’t stand the thought that I am paying someone to clean up my shitty toilet and filthy vanity area.

I don’t hang out at the main house when they are cleaning there, unless I am cooking for them or making them something to drink or putting on some music they like.

It means my family usually gives them packages of old cloths, toys for their kids or sometimes holiday food or bonus money that doesn’t get a cut taken out by their Mexican-American boss. It also means that my Aunt continually grouses about things missing that she assumes they have taken, or that my mother complains about something they have did wrong or broken to their Mexican-American boss.

It’s never just a job that they do, like we do, and it’s never just about them, it’s always about us, as well.

That’s about as close to a class conflict that I have been involved with, as about as close as I want to come, either.

It seems to me that the awareness of class is just not an awareness of difference; it’s also the awareness that you are exploiting someone else for you own benefit. I suspect that’s why it is nearly impossible to admit that class differences exist in this country. If we ever did, we would also have to face up to the fact that our power allowed us to exploit others who have less power. Such awareness probably makes one really schizophrenic, after a while.