Safety Net vs Safety Bubble

What with all that has happened over the last few months (a pandemic, and the white western world suddenly discovering that structural racial injustice exists), the events of February seem almost inconsequential. I’ve been sitting on this blog post for several months after all - how important is it to me if I don’t do anything about it? I had been thinking about volunteering for a food bank - but never got off my bum to do it. But that’s a reflection on me, and not on the significance of the world’s problems.

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Many many many people have told me that I should not travel alone in Chicago. Especially not as a young woman, especially not at night, especially not on the CTA, especially not on the Red Line. But I just don’t understand how I can get around otherwise. I’ve tried hitching rides with new acquaintances - it’s very awkward to be trapped in conversations that you don’t want to participate in. I’ve also tried using Uber - the cost adds up quickly. I could get a car - but looking out the window I don’t see any available street parking.

The CTA is (mostly) fine.

Mostly.

A few months ago in the depths of winter, I packed a banana in my bag and left for the evening shift at my new job. It was the last banana left in our house. Wars are fought over this single banana.

It was cold, as one might expect from a wintry Chicago day. The train station was mostly empty, as one might expect at 2pm in a car-reliant country. I tucked myself into a heated shelter next to a woman with many bags. A man came up to me. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were bandaged. “Do you have any food?” he asked.

I had a single banana in my bag. I gave it to him.

Then the woman next to me asked, “Do you have any more bananas?”

I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any more.”

So she broke off the top of the banana that I had given to the man and ate it. He gave a sharp “hey!” in protest.

I don’t know what happened after that because I hightailed it off the platform. It wasn’t a situation that I wanted to be in the middle of.

That night I told my husband that I wanted to get a car. I could use the car to drive to work. We could also drive to H-Mart several suburbs away.

We talked it over. Cars (and all their associated costs) are expensive, so the financials wouldn’t have worked out. I don’t like driving, so I wouldn’t enjoy the commute very much. There is very limited street parking near us so I’d be spending a lot of time trying to find a parking spot. Ultimately, it would be more cost effective for me to uber to work every day.

But let’s continue this thought experiment. I could get a car, and because I need a parking spot, I could move out to the suburbs into a larger house with a garage. And because I’d be in a neighbourhood with very low walkability, I’d have to drive everywhere instead of walking, biking or taking public transport like I usually do. The distance to downtown Chicago would make hanging out in the city inconvenient, so I’d probably spend my time grocery shopping at my local strip mall.

I’d be living the American Dream, joining the ranks of most other Asians in the suburbs of Niles and Arlington Heights, safe in my bubble that protected me from the worst the world had to offer.

If I had children, I’d probably dive head first into this lifestyle. It’s so much safer after all, and it makes complete sense that families would choose to settle in the suburbs, far from the dangers of the city.

But then I’d stop seeing the reality of the world with my own eyes. I’d forget about the problems that need fixing.

A part of me feels like it would be a bit of a cop out. Amnesia is an easy solution.

But it would only be a fix for me and my bleeding heart tendencies. It wouldn’t be a real solution, not really.

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It’s not like Australia doesn’t have panhandlers. There’s no escaping poverty wherever you go. They’re on nearly every street corner in the CBD. Some are regulars - you’ll see them everyday in the same spot.

But the poverty in America is on an entirely different level.

Here, people walk around with visible injuries and illnesses. All treatable, of course, but they’ve probably been bandaged up by the hospital and then sent on their way because there’s no profit to be made from anyone who has no money to pay.

Here, people don’t really ask for money. (I mean, they might if they’re a jobless teen looking for a quick dollar, but that’s beside the point). People ask for food here.

The arguments I’ve heard against giving money to beggars center around the possibility that they will use the money for drugs. I happen to think that the way they use the money is their choice, but regardless, that argument does not apply in a city where people are so desperately hungry that they will follow you down the street if you are holding a bag of takeout until you give them a portion.

How food, housing and medical access is such a significant problem in a developed country boggles my mind, even though I (kind of) know (some of) the reasons why.

• Tax dollars don't go to providing a social safety net. They go towards buying military grade weapons for the police. Social services are so underfunded that any attempt to do something positive, like give people stimulus checks, gets bungled.

• Wealthy people and corporations are undertaxed, so there's less money to be shared around. The IRS is also underfunded so they do not have the resources to chase after any tax evasion.

• Charities, like food banks and homeless shelters, are underfunded, because why give money to a charity when you can use it to pay your rent? Existing philanthropy is very inconsistent and tends to go to specific causes that are dear to the philanthropist, constraining the ability of charities to operate flexibly.

• Systemic racism in housing, banking, education (all the things) have prevented Black families from climbing out of poverty and accumulating enough wealth to have a trampoline that will bounce them back out of difficult and unexpected situations.

• Individuals have very little power compared to corporations, leading to a strong power imbalance between employers and employees. Employees are dependent on employers for health insurance (which is not always provided), and income (which is not always sufficient to cover basic necessities), and do not always have job security (because in some states employment is at the will of the employer).

• The medical industry benefits from keeping ordinary people in the dark about how medical costs work because it means they can charge more money and get less backlash. Health insurance has high deductibles and high premiums because there is essentially no competition so they may as well fleece their captive customers.

• Entire apartment buildings are owned and leased by corporations, reducing the housing stock available to ordinary people.

There's probably lots of other reasons that I've forgotten. It still boggles though.

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The United States of America has been a land of firsts.

My first sexual assault. A man flashed me on the CTA. I’m fine now. My first time witnessing overt racism on the streets against a black boy. My first time being unable to access health care.

I’ve learnt a lot here. I can count production sewing as a new skill. I use it to sew face masks for hospitals and nursing homes that have insufficient personal protective equipment. I learnt how to say no decisively. It’s the only way to stop people from following me across the road as they beg for money. I’ve widened my spatial awareness. I use it to keep the corner of my eye on the man urinating at the back of the train carriage.

That’s not to say America is all bad. The neighbourhood I live in is extremely pretty, and I get the benefit of seeing all the landscaped front yards evolve with the seasons and none of the financial burden of paying the gardeners. The opportunities are immense for those of us with funds and a functional safety net.

The parts of America that I walk are beautiful, for sure, but it feels like such a thin facade. Fall severely ill just once, and that bubble is broken.