Buses: I am on the bus with 17 other people- I am the only Caucasian (my spell-check auto capitalized Caucasian).
Phone companies target economically deprived people by offering no contract sub-par phone plans- leveraging that their target market does not have credit, exploiting those that do, creating a vicious cycle in which those with credit will forever be in debt and those without it will never have it, forever a slave to nonexistent social services, dangerous housing and poisonous food. We have managed to exploit people at every level but the top. Most of us still try to smile; not on this bus, smiles would have to be extracted like the rest of their soul, protecting the last bits of self behind their anger and exhaustion. They are real, and really valuable. They are we, I am them but I see it from a 'middle class' (middle class = poor with credit) white woman's perspective. Which makes it even sicker truly, I am not a disabled, black person. I am not an exploited Hispanic. I am exploited and white, which means I just pretend I'm not good enough or that god hates me and think, at least I'm not that single mom with her babies and groceries on the bus. Or at least I'm not that kid with the gun who is scared shit-less- eventually pulling the trigger because the options don't appear to be there- I'm starting to the options are in a bubble but they are not reaching the people, they are not real, they are dreams of smile or die- this American Life.
Phone companies target economically deprived people by offering no contract sub-par phone plans- leveraging that their target market does not have credit, exploiting those that do, creating a vicious cycle in which those with credit will forever be in debt and those without it will never have it, forever a slave to nonexistent social services, dangerous housing and poisonous food. We have managed to exploit people at every level but the top. Most of us still try to smile; not on this bus, smiles would have to be extracted like the rest of their soul, protecting the last bits of self behind their anger and exhaustion. They are real, and really valuable. They are we, I am them but I see it from a 'middle class' (middle class = poor with credit) white woman's perspective. Which makes it even sicker truly, I am not a disabled, black person. I am not an exploited Hispanic. I am exploited and white, which means I just pretend I'm not good enough or that god hates me and think, at least I'm not that single mom with her babies and groceries on the bus. Or at least I'm not that kid with the gun who is scared shit-less- eventually pulling the trigger because the options don't appear to be there- I'm starting to the options are in a bubble but they are not reaching the people, they are not real, they are dreams of smile or die- this American Life.