Protecting Our Boxes

Growing up, I didn’t fully understand our economic situation as a family. Once I got older, I realized how much our family relied on economic relief from government programs to get by. Through systems like Section 8, Medi-Cal, and food stamps, my father could keep our family housed, fed, and took care of me while working one, sometimes two jobs. My mother had always been unemployed and mostly helped by filling out paperwork for these government programs. I don’t think we realized how much of a help that was until she was gone. My mother was mentally ill, and her resistance to her medication for bipolar disorder led her to abuse other prescriptions, as well as other substances like alcohol. After a while, she found herself lost and eventually left us alone. 

Due to all the problems she was causing us emotionally, mentally, and even medically, her absence from our lives was more of an aid than a problem. That is, until it was time to reapply for Section 8 and all of the financial programs we relied on. My mother was the main name under many of these programs and, given that she wasn’t around, we couldn’t get her signature or move forward with the application process. It took months for us to get her name off of most of the programs and for my dad to get full custody of me. But even after figuring a lot of it out, the amount of help we received economically was cut down substantially. At one point, they completely cut us off from a lot of financial programs for the sole reason of my mother being out of the picture. But it wasn’t me and my father’s fault that she had left the family.

Looking back at our experience with these programs leaves me with a sense of bitterness. While we were fighting for what we’d already earned, the organizers of these systems were putting roadblock after roadblock in our way. The financial programs that many Americans need to survive are supposed to prioritize us, the American citizens that give them as a government the power to govern. But there were so many steps and bureaucratic barriers stopping us from getting the help we needed, and most of those claiming to “help” us were prioritizing keeping their seat at the table instead. Our needs weren’t a box with treats for the taking. They were our necessities for survival. This red tape was an unnecessary maze of excessive documentation and struggle to receive the help that we were entitled to and desperately needed. 

The American system is embedded with racism and inequality, beginning with our country’s history of slavery and white supremacy. When finally freed, we lived in rural poverty, having to fight tooth and nail in a system that was built to give people with generational privilege a leg up economically. They owe us the help that we paid for with generations of stolen labor, and I will never be okay with systemic racism taking away the undeniable rights and resources we as a people deserve.

Looking back it felt like a robbery, and although that part of my life is over, I’m not over the injustice that took place. Thieves are criminals, so to ignore the blatant criminality of my U.S. government is not something I’ll do. I’ll never let them steal another piece of me, and I hope that others struggling to hold on to what is theirs will fight to keep their stash too.

We’ll rip through the wrappers
Those blockades you set
Then take what we deserve
Collect our owed debt

We’ll fight to keep our boxes full
We know one thing is clear
After making our lives crumble
You won’t make our voices disappear