I read an article in
Gawker today, “When People Write for Free, Who Pays?”, and it got me thinking, again, about how
growing up working class (at times working poor was a more
appropriate classification of our situation) has continually affected my life. This article
explains how a high cost of entry creates a lack of diverse voices within the
writing industry. It also mentioned the bootstrapping myth. You know how it
goes – “I was a struggling artist/college student/business intern eating Top Ramen and ketchup soup.”
I’d like to share my
experience as a child of the working class trying to pursue his dreams in a
middle and upper class niche industries.
You see, I’ve always been a
dreamer, an Icarus rising far above my working class roots because I set goals
beyond my socioeconomic legacy and pay grade. For close to fifteen years I've
been part of three industries - writing, photography, and snowboarding.
All these industries expect
you to invest heavily in education, training and gear and then expect you to
give your work and talent away for free or super cheap while building your
network and portfolio. Their justification for this exploitation is usually
something like, "Exposure!" or "Portfolio!" or "Free
Beer!" The last justification usually works, but the other two are played
out and I’m very particular about my “portfolio” or “exposure” these days. Frankly,
I need to see how this “exposure” will lead to a new skill or a check.
Between degrees, CEU’s,
personal study, networking, marketing, and capital investment (tools of the
trade), I’ve easily invested $75k (time, materials, education) just for writing and photography industries.
Real bootstrapping is as rare as a two headed cow - it's a mutation, relying more on random chance and dumb luck than hard work and recognition. Outliers, by Malcolm
Gladwell, is a great look into American Bootstrapping mythos.
Bootstrapping is an adyaton, an exaggeration so great it is
impossible - e.g. pulling oneself up by their bootstraps (the straps on a
shoe used to pull it on and off). Visualize this, or better yet, try it for a
moment by grabbing the bootstrap on each shoe at the same time and pull up,
trying to lift both feet at the same time. Nothing happens. Unless you get some
sort of assistance gravity will always win.
I first noticed the impact
of the social class divide as a snowbum in Jackson, WY, where I spent five
glorious years “livin’ the dream” – teaching snowboarding, hiking and climbing
mountains. During this time I also worked two or three jobs at a time and still got into serious financial trouble because of gaps in work and medical bills.
What I noticed during my
time in Jackson was that my middle class and upper class colleagues, even the
ones without trust funds, had it pretty easy. Sure most were working the same
two or three jobs that I was, but they also had a new snowboard every year, wore
puffy coats, listened to mp3 players, skied in $500 mountaineering pants, drove
a three year old hand-me-down Subaru, and flew to South America once a year
during offseason (“offseason” is the time between seasons, usually Oct-Nov and
April-May, when most tourist based jobs, and pretty much every job in Jackson,
layoff all their staff and close.
I, on the other hand, still
had to pay rent, so would find odd jobs during the offseason like sheet-rocking
someone’s house or washing windows and cleaning carpets for rich people’s third
homes (incidentally, if you own a home in Wyoming, even if it’s your third, you
don’t have to pay state employment taxes). For the longest time I envied how
stress free and relaxed other skibums were, the great trips they would take,
and the gear they would buy and was pretty baffled how they financed their
lives so easily.
Then, one day I realized my
skibum colleagues were getting help - a rent check from mom, a new piece of
gear for Christmas, a plane ticket home. However little, it all adds up over time, creating not only
material wealth but also, and more importantly, a sense of stability and confidance emanating
from the knowledge that someone has your financial and emotional back.
I didn’t even realize that
this, getting handouts that make life easier, could be a way of life for some
people. This realization was disheartening and reassuring at the same time.
Disheartening because I saw how I was constantly getting my ass kicked
financially with nobody there to help or listen. I was living life without a
safety net - a trapeze act without an audience. Reassuring because now I
understood why all the people surrounding were always mellow and I was always
stressed out – they were cheating, gaming the system. While I was constantly
getting hit with setbacks, their lives were slowly inching forward, following
their cheery little plan - college, skibum, master's degree, marriage, kids,
house.
I’ve seen this pattern
repeated in school while getting my bachelor’s degree (guess who got to do
internships while I went to work) and within the writing and photography
industries. Yes. I’ve had some successes – a photo published in Outside
Magazine (for which they didn’t pay me and exposure was implied) and a
snowboarding sponsorship for a couple seasons. I networked my ass off for those
opportunities and every single one of my publishing credits.
But, mostly I’ve seen those
around me leverage their middle class stability to get another degree, land a
good job or launch a freelance career. And, I'm pretty sure the lack of financial
and emotional support has impacted my level of success in each field and
subsequent paycheck. Every five years or so I become exhausted I have to crawl
into a hole for year to recover, where I think about the lessons learned,
reassess my path and ask myself if pursuing my dreams is really worth the
trouble.
I am just now coming out of
one of those holes. And, as always the answer is – "Yes. It’s worth the
trouble." What all these cycles and observation have taught me is that a)
I’m stubborn, and b) I don’t know my place.
I refuse to give up on my
dreams just because others have an advantage. I may occasionally lay down,
demoralized and exhausted, but I will always get back in the game. I have an
important story to tell and a unique experience to share. I’m going to keep living life on my terms,
even if most people don’t understand me or my terms.
Now, back up for a second
while I try this bootstrapping move one more time. I could crash, breaking a
table or chair, but I don’t really care as long as you give me a high score for form.
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| My favorite summer writing spot, where I contemplate life's deeper issues. (Mostly, I just listen to the wind and water.) |
