Before You Can Pull Yourself Up By Your Bootstraps, You Need to Have Boots

This is the second in a series of reflections I am writing from my personal experiences of life and lessons learned…

In the Ghetto…

Lesson #1:

Before you can “pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” you need to have boots.

As our family of five joined together in pursuit of Casey’s degree in social work, we knew it wouldn’t be easy. For two years, we would share a tiny apartment in a “bad” neighborhood. With an empty savings account and no offers for financial assistance, we also knew we would face challenges. Casey would be attending ASU full-time while holding down three jobs and taking care of his family, but everything would be o.k. After all, in America, if you work hard and live with an attitude of determination, you will succeed. Right?… Right?

American culture sends a strong message to those who find themselves in the sinking sands of life’s struggles, and that message is, “Just pull yourself up by your bootstraps!” I grew up with the expectation that people should always be able to do just that. My teachers had taught it. Actors portrayed it. Inspirational national leaders preached it. Imagine my dismay and disappointment when I found myself surrounded by poverty, prepared myself to chant the mantra to inspire the masses, and then looked around and realized that before you can pull yourself up by your bootstraps, you need to have boots.

We had started our educational journey like most people do… with a plan. However, it wasn’t long before “life” happened. First, we encountered the shock of all of those extra college expenses that quickly add up to hundreds of dollars. Then came the unexpected medical bills, followed by a date with the IRS. We were hit with one financial hardship after another and soon found ourselves in need of help, but where to start?

It was as we began to untangle and cut through the red tape of government assistance (food stamps and health care for our children) that my eyes were opened and my heart changed. On the morning I set out to drive to state agencies to seek help, something symbolic happened. I had all three of the kids up and ready to go, my paperwork was in order, and I was dressed for success. I remember thinking to myself, “This won’t be so bad.” As we walked out to the parking lot and came around the corner to get in our car, the four of us stopped dead in our tracks and just stared.

An awkward silence was broken when five-year-old Heather shouted, “What happened to our car, Mommy?” There was our blue Brady Bunch style station wagon, still parked in our assigned space, only now it was resting on just four steel hubs. Sometime in the night, all of our tires had been stolen. From that day forward, a tiny icon of that tireless car would be embedded in my memory representing my “formula of probability in poverty” - For every plan made and every goal set, there will be an equal number of obstacles waiting around the next corner.

For two years, we struggled to find our way through a maze of survival. Compared to most of our neighbors, our family was fortunate. We had a small income and transportation. Casey and I both had high school diplomas and some college education. We had friends we could trust. We had our Faith. We, at least, had the proverbial boots… and the bootstraps. Even with all of the advantages, those were some of the most difficult years of our lives, and it was during that period of time that the frame of compassion was formed around my new worldview.

This worldview understands that you cannot climb out of a life of poverty without help. I’ll never forget those around me who had nothing. They were my neighbors. They were the ones lingering in line after line; only to get to a caseworker and find out they’d need to wait in another line. If 5:00 came and they were still waiting, they would have to go home, catch another bus to return the next day, and then start the whole process over. I shared in their pain as I experienced the desperation of not being able to provide for the most basic of human needs.

This worldview listens to the story behind a person. As a poverty survivor who entered the teaching profession, my experience reminds me daily that there are reasons families are hurting, and children struggle to learn. After hearing story after story, and seeing need upon need, I cannot be convinced that all it takes to escape the clutches of poverty is to “just pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” I no longer believe the rags to riches tales found in Hollywood. When the sensationalism is stripped away, every character in every success story told had some kind of help along the way. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, I’d venture to say that person has never been poor.

This worldview is thankful. Organizations, and the people in them, are not perfect. However, during our time of need, we were provided with food and healthcare for our children through community resources. I had always found it easy to give, but awkward to receive. In accepting provision from sources outside of myself, I gained a deeper understanding of what a gift it is to learn to embrace, with grace and thanksgiving, all of life’s treasures. I no longer take for granted the blessings found in both giving and receiving, and I walk in the assurance that no matter the circumstances, we are not alone.