I grew up in an emotionally abusive, low-income family and never thought of myself as privileged. In fact, I joined the Army at age 18 to get away from that mess and jumpstart my life. It worked.
These days, my husband and I are not particularly frugal, but we aren’t particularly extravagant, either. It’s a sweet life, and we are indeed privileged. I enjoy writing about retirement and aging and the simple things that make us happy … nothing life-changing but sometimes funny and hopefully entertaining.
Privilege is relative, and I now understand even my rough start was like a rocket launcher compared to what some people are born into and how they live. I had parents, a home, clean clothes, safe places to play, food, good schools. Intellectually, I understand what it means to not have those things, but I have no real concept of what life is like outside the bubble.
I’m inspired to expand my thinking after reading an exceptional book about racial conflict in Los Angeles … Your House Will Pay by Steph Cha. The novel starts when a black teenager is killed by a Korean shop owner, and it cascades into the stories of their families – how they are impacted and how they intersect. My words won’t do it justice, so I’ll borrow from the jacket, with these words by Viet Thanh Nguyen:
“This suspense-filled page turner about murder, repentance, and forgiveness draws from the fraught history of Los Angeles, where America’s immigrant dream bleeds into America’s racist nightmare.”
In the book, everyone is angry and social media is a feeding frenzy, but the families actually living through the tragedy are ordinary people doing the best they can. We see lots of devastating stories in the news, but this book reminded me you have to look beyond hashtags and viral tweets to find the humanity that brings us together and propels us forward.
Such a powerful read that left me wondering if it’s silly or insensitive to tell stories about my cushy retired life when other people are suffering. But the truth is I’m in no position to write about what it’s like to grow up black and poor or a victim of violent crime any more than I’m going to write about what it’s like to grow up rich. Those are not my experiences.
What can a retirement blogger possibly add to the conversation when there are such eloquent voices to be heard?
Then I thought about how grateful I am for this little online community – readers and writers alike. I don’t think we have to change the world one blog post at a time or one comment at a time, but I believe there’s value in listening and sharing so in some small way, we understand each other better or something positive happens, even if it’s just a new recipe, a travel tip or a funny tale about life in the slow lane.
Everyone is shaped by their unique experiences, and everyone has a story to tell. For whatever it’s worth, this is mine.