The other evening, my friend and I were at the grocery store picking up necessities for dinner. I am recently unemployed and in the middle of applying for government assistance. My friends are Iraqi refugees -- currently under employed and on assistance while trying to survive in a country that doesn't recognize their prestigious but foreign bachelors degrees.
As the cashier finishes scanning our potatoes, peppers, milk, and chicken, my friend pulls out his Pennsylvania ACCESS card (food stamps) to pay for our groceries. Behind us is a middle aged couple. The man has an award winning beer belly and an untrimmed mustache. I could not make out what the woman said to her partner, but by the man's response, it was obvious she was asking what kind of card my friend had.
I heard the man behind me mumble. "It's government money! It's our money that we pay in taxes that they're using. They're just lazy and should get a fuckin job. It's people like us who work for a living who should get paid for doing something. Instead, they're buying food for doing nothing. Fuckin lazy, that's all it is."
I could feel my face flush, my hands clench, and the rising and falling of my chest grow rapid with each irate breath. I looked at my friend. He hadn't heard the man behind me -- good. I was so embarrassed by this American behind me, I was glad my friend hadn't heard his statements. My mind started racing and I started inwardly yelling the speech I wanted to whirl around and spew out at this man.
"If you have something to say, then speak it clearly and own your words. Stop mumbling. You have no idea. I have worked since college, and I have worked as a social worker. Yes, I'm young, but I've spent my entire working career thus far trying to help and love other people. I've paid taxes. I've been responsible. And out of the blue, I got laid off."
"Now, I am searching for jobs, putting in applications, and going to any interview offered to me. Being unemployed does not make you lazy -- being unemployed and doing nothing about it is what makes you lazy. But you wouldn't know that I've put in thirty applications in the past two days just by looking at me and judging me, now would you?"
"And my friend here? He does work! But it's not enough because this country is too enthocentric for him to survive right now. He put his life in danger to assist YOUR military men. He helped the American government and almost died doing so. He loves this country, maybe even more than you do. And now he's here in the United States trying to rebuild his life and working damn hard on doing so."
"So you think that because we are using an ACCESS card we are lazy? Are you so narrow minded, judgmental, and ignorant that you assume all people on government assistance are lazy? Do you think we want to stay this way? Do you think we're proud of it, like it's some badge of honor? No, it's not true. You have no love in your heart. You are unkind, you are unjust, and unmerciful. You have no idea what our stories are, the circumstances that we've come from, and the efforts we are making to get back on our feet. Please forgive us if while we're applying for jobs and going to interviews, we still need to eat. Believe me, I cannot wait to become employed again. And may I show more compassion and understanding towards other people in difficult situations than you have shown to us today."
Those are the thoughts that raced through my head. The stormed around my mind so quickly, and I wanted to whirl around and blurt them out to this ignorant and selfish man. I wanted him to know he was WRONG and I wanted to put him in his place for making such cold and assuming comments.
But I didn't.
Instead, I grabbed some grocery bags, my friend grabbed some grocery bags, and we walked back to his place. Once inside, we were greeted by three of our friends, and the five of us made dinner together. We talked, we laughed, we chopped up vegetables and boiled chicken. We listened to Persian music and two of the boys taught me some Arabic phrases while we waited for the potatoes to cook. It was just another dinner in the simple apartment, embracing community and fellowship, and appreciating what we had over a meal together.
I knew the stories and circumstances of all the people sitting with me at the table, and they knew mine. We are poor, and we are struggling. But I guarantee you, that night while eating our chicken and potatoes and listening to cultural music, we were some of the happiest people in this world.
Scout
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