I have wanted to write this for a long time, but didn't know where to start. I am in the middle of getting my latest startup off the ground. I have been surrounded by people who have constantly told me how impressed they were with my tenacity, audacity, and bravery. While on the surface I understand what that means, I don't think it really sinks in.
I am a cis genre white kid who grew up part of the 1%. I don't think I suffer from the imposter syndrome, but I recognize that I wouldn't be where I am without my privilege. I spent all of 2020 bouncing from family member to family member because I couldn't support myself. At the beginning when I was staying with my brother, I would pay my fair share of the groceries. But the second time I came to stay with him and his family for a month, there was an unspoken agreement that I could just exist there, helping out however I could, in exchange for a bed to sleep on and food to eat. I had lost the ability to take care of myself.
2020 was hard for most of us. For me, it was an ego check. I went from my brother's house to my mom's, to my dad's, back to my moms. I ended up being that millennial living at home with his parent, despite always vowing never to be that person. I had no other options. The social safety net that was supposed to protect me failed me utterly. And I had it easy. I had stocks I could cash out if I absolutely needed to. I knew that I always had family that would not let me go hungry or cold. I am more fortunate than most, and I fully recognize that.
But that recognition leaves me feeling guilty. I am doing well for myself, all things considered. Fast forward a year and I have my own apartment in Santa Barbara, CA. I have signed a lease to open a new store. On paper, I am doing quite well. But every day, I wake up and wonder if the stock market will crash again, taking with it my only lifeline to clawing my way out of the mess the pandemic left me. I wonder how I will make sure I have enough cash in my account to pay off my credit cards, so as to not carry over a balance and incur well over 20% interest. I wonder why I willingly gave up a job where I had virtually no expenses, just because I felt like I was better than the work I was doing.
I recognize that I am exactly where I am because of choices I singularly made. My ego is the culprit for almost all of the decisions in my life, good and bad. Duplicitous thoughts creep in, making me wonder how I can be so successful and so worried about how I can pay off my debts and obligations. I have chosen a life of freedom that comes with being self employed. But married to that choice is risk. It is a risk of not knowing if I will be able to meet my obligations. It is a risk of feeling like a failure when I compare myself to friends and family. It is a risk of knowing that I could be doing more, earning more.
I don't regret my choice to be my own boss. No one can ever say that I lack ambition. From starting my first company at 24 because I felt I needed to show up my managers at the health care consulting company where I worked to embarking on my latest venture, I have never been risk averse. But at the same time, every single time I left, a net has always appeared. That net appeared for a variety of reasons, some intrinsic to me and who I am as creature on this planet, but some intrinsic to my gender and skin color.
I do consciously make an effort to make the world better for those around me. But I don't try that hard. I know for certain I could do more. I could spend my free time advocating for those who haven't been given the opportunities I have because of my privilege. I feel the guilt of not doing more. Yet, at the same time, that guilt doesn't move me to do more. I recognize the privilege that is in that statement alone. I am able to live my life without the constant worry of society literally or figuratively attacking me for who I am.
I read recently a meme that said "don't confuse someone's free time with their availability." That made me think that it was okay to exist in my own space without constantly feeling the guilt of being who I am. I am allowed to exist and do good when and how I can and enjoy being who I am. And I realize that some will read this and only see someone not trying to change the world every minute of every day because they don't have to. And that is the truth. My day to day is not affected by the same issues that BIPOC or Trans people or women or disabled people face regularly. But given what little power I have, I do my best to make the world a little more inclusive, a little more diverse.
Life is hard, but harder for some than others. Life has been kind and relatively easy for me. I have spent a lot of time thinking about how I have gotten to be where I am. And how, but for the grace of god, I could be somewhere completely different if only a few things in my life changed. 2020 showed me how close I am to being on the street; to being homeless; to being forgotten by a system that was created ostensibly to protect me.
And I will not forget that. I can't forget that. None of use can.
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