What We Talk About When We Talk About Money: Explaining Wealth and Poverty to Kids
‘œWe don’t take that insurance anymore.’
‘œYou don’t? But my daughter was supposed to get her shots today.How much will it cost if I just pay out-of-pocket?’
‘œI don’t know. It depends on what else the doctor does today.’
(pause)
‘œCome on, Cindy; we’re going to the park. We’ll go to the doctor another day.’
‘œBut I thought I was going to get my pokes and a lollipop!’
‘œWe’ll do it another day.’
And so the embarrassed, flustered mother and daughter left my pediatrician’s office.
Even though I was only a witness to, and not a participant in this exchange, I felt my face turning red. I wanted to help the mother, and shield her daughter from it all. My own daughter was much too young to absorb what was going on, but it made me wonder how I would explain this and all the other economic injustices that we confront every day.
How will I explain the clearly physically and mentally ill homeless woman panhandling around the corner from our suburban house? How will I explain my millionaire friend’s ability to shower her daughter with anything and everything, even though she herself doesn’t work? How will I explain the disparities and injustices that we adults tend to normalize?
I want my daughter to have a strong sense of the importance of equality, but I also want her to be able to function in this very dysfunctional world of ours. And I want her to understand both the importance of personal fiscal responsibility AND the structural economic inequalities that still plague our world.
I remember the first time I saw a homeless person. I grew up in a small town where there were no visible homeless people on the streets, so it was on a trip to New York City that I first encountered a person begging. There she was, a woman probably no older than my mom, missing teeth, reeking of whiskey. I had never seen an adult so disempowered. So needy. So desperate.
I grilled my parents: how come nobody was helping her? How come we weren’t helping her? How did she get this way? What if we were homeless? I don’t remember my parents’ answers, but I do remember being dissatisfied with them’”much as I imagine my daughter would have been dissatisfied with my response to the scene that played out at our pediatrician’s office.
The truth is, while I hold some general principals about economic equality and distributive justice, I don’t have all the answers. I don’t always know how to do what in the Jewish tradition we call tikkun olam’”repairing the world. As a queer parent, I plan to share my understanding of social and economic justice with my daughter, but hope to be open to her own possibly very different views on this and every other subject. I guess the best I can do for my daughter is to answer her questions about wealth and poverty as honestly as I can’”which will mean admitting my own shame at not doing more to end the latter and redistribute the former.
But I’m haunted by that mother in my pediatrician’s office: her shame, her daughter’s confusion. And by my own passive witnessing of it all. How do you talk to your children about this stuff? How do you discuss economic justice/injustice? Have your children given you any new insights into all this?
The telling quote here is:
“I don’t know, it depends on what else he does today.”
Meaning the Doctors fee for a Cash patient depends on how much he has been able to bill Insurance companies that day…Billed a Lot..Doc feels good…$10 bucks lady…Billed a Little/Insurance company denied a big claim…Docs Pi**ed…$100 or Get Lost lady.
Thats why I’ve always felt that just like Walk-In Clinics regular MD’s should have a posted price list.
~ Roland
I don’t know. I suspect that it’s easier to explain injustice that happens to other people, but not to yourself. Because it’s hard to explain that you’re only human and you can’t fix everything in the world to your kids.
Good point, plonkee. Being a parent has definitely made me feel more culpable for the world’s ills. Which isn’t such a bad thing! But it’s overwhelming at times….
FrugalZen, I had no idea it worked that way. How disgusting!
Thanks so much for bringing this up. The first time I encountered homelessness was also in NYC. My Dad moved there when I was ten. He taught me to keep moving and just go about my business. He said that you just can’t help everybody and that it’s better to contribute to organizations that can help. Meanwhile, my mom was a legal aid lawyer (and now works for an AIDS project) who bends over backwards to personally help her clients – and gave up the promise of a lucrative legal career in her attempt at tikkun olam.
Now that I am an adult living in a city, I feel so frustrated every day when I walk by several homeless people on the way to work. Usually, I walk by briskly, mumbling “sorry†when asked for money. My heart aches every time. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t usually carry cash anyway, but can’t get past that horrible feeling in my gut. Occasionally, my feelings take a different turn and I feel resentful for being bothered (followed by guilt for feeling that).
I have no idea how I will explain this to my kids someday, especially because I don’t understand it myself. I hope to continue the tradition of doing whatever part I can, no matter how small or big, to change that inequality (like my parents each in their very different ways). But really, the most honest thing to do is to share my helplessness, and show my child that adults don’t always have all the answers. That is an important lesson, too. Maybe she’ll be the one to help find the solution.
Healthy Amelia, thanks for your thought-provoking post! I share your feelings of guilt, resentment, and confusion. Maybe our kids will indeed be the ones to find the solutions!! I appreciate your comments; you’ll make a great parent!