When the stress of life gets overwhelming, I sometimes play a little mental game with myself.

If I were going to build Utopia, what would it look like?

First let me clarify:  The subject of Homelessness has been on my mind a lot lately.  Not the usual depiction of homelessness, that of people living on the streets, or in shelters.  Those are the ones easily counted, and those that immediately come to mind.  I am thinking about the Hidden Homeless: single adults and families that live in motels, in their cars, or couch surf with various friends and family while trying to sort out their lives.  This group consists of people that generally have a job, but through some misfortune ended up losing their house or apartment at a time when it was difficult to obtain another place quickly.  Due to their lower Middle Class income (Think a family of three or four making anywhere between $32,000 and $75,000 annually as a rough estimate), not only do they not qualify for any type of emergency aid, they often have very little of no savings to fall back on, as this group tends to live paycheck to paycheck, or alternately used up any savings they may have had on whatever misfortune caused them to lose their homes in the first place.

When creating my own little version of Utopia, I tend to start with this lower Middle Class group, also referred to as the Working Class.  This is the class of Blue Collar, and lower level white collar employees that we depend on to get those critical, front line jobs done, but overlook when it comes to thinking of someone who may need assistance down the line. Although this is mostly a self sufficient group, even they realize that they are not islands unto themselves, and everybody needs a little help sometimes, even if all they want is enough time and space to comfortably get back on their feet.  It is this lack of room to fix errors or make up for lost income that turns what should have only been a temporary setback into years of attempts to recover a family's life.

In my own little world, all people would be paid enough to keep pace with the cost of living.  There is no reason a working person should be priced out of having a decent place to live within reasonable distance from their job.  And, no, I don't consider having to live 60 miles away from your job in order to find decent, affordable housing in reasonably family friendly neighborhoods (an issue endemic to Los Angeles County) a reasonable distance.  Whatever money is saved by living far away from work is immediately lost in time (over an hour each way), transportation costs (gas and maintenance on the car, or obscenely expensive bus or train passes), and physical exhaustion from the commute.  I can't see where having employees worn out from from hours long commutes benefits any business.

Another option, since we are so fond of handing out tax breaks, is to offer tax breaks to property owners willing to embrace an income based rent structure.  Here's how it would work: A family finds, and applies for, an apartment. Once they pass the requisite background and reference checks (for those concerned about criminal behavior), they present the owner/landlord/property management firm with recent paystubs (or tax returns for the self employed), from which the receiving party determines what the family's rent should be based on their net income, ideally no more than 1/3 or 1/4 of the total family income.  The tax break would make up the difference.  This would ensure that no family was spending more than 60% of their total income on housing costs (which is where quite a few families are now), it would provide for constant residency, and very low turnover for apartment owners, as well as a stable and steady income (with residents needing to provide proof of income either annually, or whenever there is a significant shift in income, such as a job loss, or total family income moves to over six figures, at which point most can afford Fair Market Rent) for the owners, and the ability of residents to build community within their neighborhoods.  It is this sense of community that prevents neighborhoods from the downward slide that occurs when there are people constantly moving in and out, and neighbors no longer know each other.

The key to eliminating homelessness, in my world, anyway, would hinge upon employment for all who wanted to work, a wage that would allow for living at least adequately, help and services for those that needed them the most (not based on income, a method which leaves out that same working class), and a rent system that allows everyone to participate.  The subtext of all of these changes, is respect for the work and lives of the working class people that drive the economy.  They are people, not statistics, whose labor, and who are we kidding, money, contribute the most towards keeping the American way of life moving forward.  The lack of respect for this group, (which led to the subsequent financial squeeze on them that ended up contributing greatly to the Great Depression), is a sad reminder that were we not so busy thumbing our collective noses at those we consider socially beneath us, while groveling for crumbs from the tables of the upper classes, we might actually stand a chance of solving some of the more pressing social issues of our time.

I know my little world will likely never happen.  What I hope for is that sometime during my lifetime, our nation will come up with a more compassionate, humane way to help everyone who actually needs it.  We are one of the most advanced societies on Earth, but we cannot manage to think of a better response to a dramatic increase in homeless families than subtle victim-blaming followed by suggestions that if they really wanted to change they're circumstances, they would "work harder"?  We can manage to find money to support conflict in every corner of the Earth, but can never manage to come up with the money to solve internal issues (housing, education, infrastructure repair), that might actually restore America to it's place as a leader among nations. It can be done, but it would take a partnership of leaders and citizens with a will of iron to create and enforce a plan for solving our issues that would be structured enough to meet our goals, but flexible enough to adapt to changing circumstances.  That is how problems get solved.

It's worth noting that in my little world, the government we elect, actually represents US.  Not the groups and individuals that financed their campaigns and may have a vested interest in Utopia (or any kind of balanced society) coming to pass. The cynic in me figures that this is the real reason things never change, and permanent solutions are never found.  The optimist in me wants to be proven wrong.

You never know...

I certainly didn't think I'd find myself back in this same place after so many years.  Then again, my luck hasn't always been great, and making desperate decisions based on which was the lesser of two evils doesn't exactly make for the best of circumstances either.  I know, based on the most recent financial news, that I am not the only person going through these issues.  There are two entire generations that are struggling financially, and can no longer make ends meet where they used to be able to.  More are joining our ranks everyday, and the cries for relief are getting louder.

But I am getting ahead of myself.  Should I start from the beginning?

With the exception of some short stints of living with others (I'll get to those later), I have been living on my own since my early 20's.  I readily admit that I was ill-equipped to handle this responsibility, as the jobs I was qualified for back then never actually paid enough money to afford rent in Los Angeles, but I have also never really had a choice in the matter, as my family is not the type that lends itself to long term co-habitation.  Those situations were sticky at best, and explosive at worst.  So I did what I could to make the best possible go at living on my own, then with my son, now with my son and daughter.

Back then, I worked as a temporary employee.  Before I learned to be registered with multiple agencies, I generally only worked for one at a time, staying with one agency until they stopped calling, then moving on to another agency.  When there is rent, childcare and bills to pay, temp work doesn't always cover everything, so I was always on the lookout for that elusive permanent job. In the meantime, I learned to dread dry spells, those seasons when the temp jobs dried up for a couple of months due to the comings and goings of college students that are often used as unpaid interns for the companies that usually employed me.  It was during these dry spells that I became very familiar with evictions.

The pattern would go something like this:  While I was working, everything would be okay, but just barely.  I had no car or bank account, so I would pickup my check at the temp agency, cash it either at the bank the check was drawn on (before that option was taken away by the banks) or the check cashing place, then on Saturdays, hop on the bus with my son to go pay bills.  It was always a careful dance on the edge, quite literally living paycheck to weekly paycheck, while trying to move forward.  Whenever an assignment would end, two things would invariably happen:  There would be just enough of a wait before the next assignment to put me behind on bills and rent; and I would also have to repair or replace an (always purchased used) appliance.  It never failed.  It would be a tragic comedy if it had not gotten so predictable that I could pinpoint, almost to a day, when something would go horribly wrong.  Shortly afer putting out that fire, the 3-day notice would appear in such a way that there was no way to answer it in a timely fashion, followed by the Unlawful Detainer, followed by a tear filled court appearance (which usually cost me a day of work from the assignment that I had usually JUST STARTED, which I was not going to get paid for and usually made a poor impression which hastened the end of that assignment as well) that generally ended with me getting a crappy note in my credit record, and a extremely small amount of time for me to convince someone to rent to a single parent that worked low-paying temp jobs.

If this sounds familiar, it is because this has been the subject of quite a few recent documentaries, most notably HBO's Paycheck to Paycheck: http://www.hbo.com/documentaries/paycheck-to-paycheck-the-life-and-times-of-katrina-gilbert#/ , and more recently, Spent: Looking For Change:  http://www.spentmovie.com/.  Both films detail the lives of those who, 20 years ago, might have been squarely middle class, but due to inflation, accidents, illness and other unexpected circumstances, have found themselves in deep financial holes, struggling to meet basic daily needs for themselves and their families.  In these scenarios, even two parent families aren't spared, especially when the other parent (or partner) either can't work, or is unable to find stable employment.  Spent specifically focuses on the the financial lives of those who for various reasons are unable to participate in the mainstream financial systems in the United States.  These are people unable to have bank accounts, or get needed small business or personal loans, or have faced some crisis that started a painful downward financial spiral. Those without the ability to participate in a regular banking relationship, are all too often at the mercy of all manner of high interest, theoretically short-term loans, utilization of check cashing services, and associated bill paying services which charge additional fees of their own, which all adds up quickly, and can be devastating to low-income, and middle to low income families.



Setbacks only too easily become the last step before complete financial collapse for families already on the edge.  The car that either broke down or got repossessed that was the only link between the only employed person in the house and the well paying job that required it.  The emergency room visit that empties a checking account, or worse, has to be billed as it comes up at an extremely inopportune moment.  Having to make a heartbreaking choice when you realize that you can either eat or pay a bill, especially when there are children involved.  Wanting to be strong for everyone else, and be the stable provider that you feel like you should be, but being denied the resources needed to remain on your feet through a storm, so that you have to rely on less than palatable sources that become the anchor that finally sinks your situation.


For me, it was the discovery of payday loans.  Let me start by saying that of all of the Seven Deadly Sins, I have the largest issue with Pride.  I refused to let anyone know that I was having money issues, lest they think me incapable of "handling my business".  Being unable to handle one's business is a cardinal sin among minorities, and will get you singled out for derision and long term condescension very quickly.  Having been bullied relentlessly as a child, teen and young adult, I was willing to do just about anything to avoid being perceived as a failure for not being able to adequately care for my children and myself.  With a payday loan, I could discreetly handle any shortages that came up, and there were many since, as I stated earlier, I wasn't making enough money to cover everything, and soon between the loans to cover the bills due to the loans, and my bank's love of re-ordering the transactions to create as many overdraft fees as possible, 13 years ago, I found myself in an impossible situation.  I had been laid off from a long term assignment right in the middle of a dry season, I was having a hard time finding another assignment, so I decided to go to trade school to help me change careers, 9/11 happened, and before I could find another job, I got evicted.  My credit was destroyed, I couldn't get another bank account for a long time, and for the next five years, my son and I alternated between living with my older sister, living with my soon to be daughter's father, a brief stint in a 3rd floor walk -up apartment that ended when the above scenario repeated itself, and, when my daughter was a little over a year old, a year spent living in a residential motel.  Somewhere in the middle of all this, I finally acquired a driver's license and a car, hoping to expand my options in terms of both where I would be able to live and work.  Although I had sworn off payday lending, auto repair emergencies on an overpriced car would conspire to bring me back into the very expensive fold, especially considering that I lived somewhere not readily accessible by frequent, convenient public transit.


I've talked extensively earlier about making do as a single parent: http://www.houseofperpetualdistraction.com/thoughts-feelings-impressions-blog/song-of-the-single-mother , and trying mightily to create a life for my children where, at the very least, their needs are met, and they may even get a couple of wants, here and there.  What I didn't mention was the fact that I never wanted them to know when things got really bad, although they knew that we were barely making it, and could not afford things.  Like most of the parents you see in the documentaries, all we want is to take care of our children to the best of our ability.  We love them, we want the very best for them, and despite less than optimal circumstances, we don't want them to suffer from our mistakes and missteps.  It's crazy making that even when you work a job making a decent wage, no matter how hard you try to live within your means, even allowing for a little extra, there is always something that comes up to create a wrinkle in even the best of plans.  Since moving into this apartment seven years ago, I've endured two separate judgments, where substantial money was removed from my paychecks, two rounds of furloughs, a change in apartment ownership, bank shenanigans with transaction order and overdraft fees, several cars with huge mechanical issues, a voluntary car repossession for the aforementioned car that ALWAYS had something wrong with it, a car accident that I am still paying for as it was not covered by insurance, and due to trying to keep everything paid in the meantime, more payday loans.  Believe it or not, for a few months a couple of years ago, with the assistance of Lexington Law Firm, my credit score had actually gone from Poor to Fair.  Then I traded in a car that had a low payment, but a transmission that was on it's last legs, for a new car with a huge payment and insurance cost, but lower maintenance costs, which was crashed 9 months later.  Which killed my credit, and started the payday loan cycle all over again.  Like so many others, all over this country, I made a decision out of the desperation that arises when someone is trying to hold it all together for those they love, and is reduced to choosing between the lesser of two evils.  It wasn't really that much lesser, however.


I opened my front door this morning to find a 3-day notice taped to my screen door, ironically dated October 1st, which means I got it one day later than the time I was supposed to be given to respond to it.  


The cycle begins again...

It came in the middle of her answering the standard question, "So.  Anything interesting happen at school today?"

I rarely get to pick my daughter up from school, mostly because I work a full time, day shift job.  Mercifully, I work a 9/80 schedule, which means that although I still work 80 hours over the course of two weeks, it is compressed into 9 days, giving me one day off every other week.  My daughter loves my days off because they mean that not only does she get to sleep until 7:00 (a decided improvement over getting up at 5:30), I generally take her to school and pick her up, which gives us time to talk and spend a few minutes together at the beginning and end of her school day.  It's only a few minutes, but we try to make those few minutes count as much as possible.  Especially considering the conversation that followed.

"So, you remember XYZ?"  I rather vaguely remember the little girl, as the same rotating group of kids has basically been together since Kindergarten.

"Yeah, sorta. Why?"

A 10-year old version of OMG enters her voice: "Well XYZ had some shorts on today, and at some point she rolled them all they way up to HERE (using her hands to indicate where the upper thigh connects to the hipbone), and she was showing a little bit in the back!  She got sent to the office, but she hurried up and rolled them back down before she got there."  At the next stop light, I turned around and looked at my daughter.  "You have GOT to be kidding me?"  "Nope.  She hangs around with a group of girls that call themselves "The Strippers". (And yes, she did the Air Quotation Marks with her fingers!)  That is NOT cool."

The light changed, and we continued running a few errands but I was floored by her story.  Understand, I am not a person to get into slut-shaming, and I believe in a woman's right to make her own choices at all times, regarding everything from what she chooses to wear, to what career she decides to embark on.  Note I said, a WOMAN's choices.  These are 9 and 10 year old girls.  In Elementary school.  Identifying with strippers, the ultimate projection of oneself for the approval of the male gaze.  This is troubling in that, while we are trying to get children to begin to imagine themselves in business or science or medicine or technology by pointing out those that have succeeded in those fields as examples, there are still those out there that are so mesmerized by the false glamour and faux wealth presented to them by music, television and movies that more reasonable voices are being drowned out.  Worse than that, however, is the loss of innocence implied by these young girls knowledge of, and desire to emulate, such an adult concept.

We can all remember a time when we were not burdened with the trials of adult life; when our concerns were Barbies, Hot Wheels, Legos, playing hide and seek or riding bikes for hours on end.  And we can all tell you when that concern turned away from our childhood fascinations, and we started becoming more interested in the opposite sex as something more than one more person to play Tag with. I find it alarming that the innocence window is shrinking every year.  Why not allow kids to be kids for as long as possible?  I know that there are products to be sold, and money to be made from those that want their children to have the latest, and most fashionable clothing and gadgets, but 7 year olds in booty shoots, boots and cut off tops (worn to school by one of Ashley's classmates a few years ago) gives one pause.  Certain clothing, worn in certain combinations, are generally meant to have the effect of gaining favorable male attention.  Of course, the flip side of that is just trying to cool off, and being on the receiving end of unwanted, and often vulgar, male attention.  Being that I live in a fairly diverse, working class urban neighborhood, I am hard-pressed to speak to which of those two scenarios was at play here.

It has become very difficult to create safe spaces for children to have full childhoods.  Especially in inner-city neighborhoods, where the rush to assume adult identities and characteristics is exacerbated by a media obsessed with a certain image of inner-city inhabitants, popular culture that celebrates and markets pornography based images of women as ideal, and parents determined to give their kids everything they didn't have as children, even at the cost of a hurried leap into adolescence.  Or emulating adult entertainment professions that in reality they should know nothing about.

I was a kid once.  I gamed my mother a couple of times by wearing one thing out of the house, then changing once I got to school. I got caught, obviously, and subsequently was closely scrutinized by my mother everyday after that to make sure I didn't do it again.  I don't fault my mother for this, as I realize now that she understood that whatever you think of yourself, people are going to perceive you based on whatever they were taught about how people present themselves.  Meaning dressing scantily to attract male attention/approval might backfire if those same males were taught to perceive scantily dressed women, not as the sexually liberated women they see themselves as, but as the loose or amoral, according to whoever raised them.  I was also 16, and a junior in high school at the time. This is not a conversation anyone should be worrying about with elementary school aged children, girl or boy.

I know I can't protect my daughter from everything.  That's impossible, and I can't even begin to try.  But I can make a small place for her to safely explore her world without having to learn to understand an adult world, and adult concepts before she is physically, mentally or emotionally ready.  It's a small thing, but the least I can do to make sure that she has a COMPLETE childhood before she is launched into the grown-up world.