Marek Has Her Own After-School Special

I find myself having difficulties with myself and my changing perspectives on this voyage. At first, I was ecstatic to be on a study abroad program with so many like-minded, culturally curious students. A few weeks in, I began to freak out as I realized that about 75% of the students came from the top 5% of the US, economically speaking. It felt as if I was on the campus of Bates College all over again, yet couldn’t get away to the University of Iowa as a safe-haven from snobbery. But after the first month, my anxieties over fitting in with these people exploded into a sea of rage and resentment. Seeing the entitlement complexes of some of my peers, coupled with their abilities to afford things that others could not yet not appreciate what they had, and even not take seriously the poverty of those they saw in the countries…I was offended. I was so unbelievably offended that within the second month, my feelings of anger had grown into hate. I thought SAS was not what it was supposed to be—instead, it was a booze cruise for the disgustingly rich, and opportunity for mommy and daddy to send them away and stay out of trouble at home. This hatred, however, soon developed into outright discrimination. As I started to hear familiar hometowns (Greenwich, CT; Manhattan), I would make snap judgments of students before I even met them. I didn’t even want to talk to them, because I felt that they must be inherently bad people. I was ready to go home, sell all my worldly possessions, and use the profits to launch a Robin Hood crusade against rich bitches everywhere.

But I’ve hit the third month now, and I’m reconsidering my stance. All my life, I’ve had a big problem with telling my friends what my parents do for a living. I didn’t much care for taking people to my house, or saying how much I was contributing to the costs of my college education. To a large extent, I did this because I was ashamed of being what 90% of America and 99% of the world would consider rich. I thought it was embarrassing, almost a crime, to have so much where others had so little, and worst of all to enjoy all the privileges that came along with it. I was grateful to have parents who didn’t make me get jobs, who gave me a beautiful car, who told me to go to whatever college I wanted, no questions asked. And yet…I hated it, because I knew that other people would hate me.

How is what I’ve been doing on SAS any different from what I was afraid other people might do to me? It’s not fair of me to look at someone from Greenwich, CT and mark them off as entitled and awful simply because of their parents’ incomes. Let’s talk about rich boy for a second.  I used to tell my friends (and blog about) how I hated rich boy more than anyone I’d ever hated in the entire world. And I did. I really, really did. If you read my blog posts, you’ll remember why. But even my opinion of him has changed. Here’s the thing: as a PERSON, he’s as sweet as they come. He loves his sisters more than I’ve ever seen anyone love their siblings. He has the utmost respect for his parents. He sings like an angel, and is incredibly modest and shy. But as a HUMAN BEING, something has been lost in him. And the problem is, much of it is his own fault. Even if you’re raised in a mansion, you have the opportunity and civic responsibility to look outside the window and notice that the gardener cutting the grass doesn’t have as much privilege as you. In this age of technology, there is no reason not to be aware of political instability with regards to inequality and inequities. Turning on the TV is enough to demonstrate how the country club isn’t where every kid goes to ballroom dance after school.

But somewhere in there, it’s NOT his fault. It’s society’s. He didn’t ask to be raised behind the walls of privilege, to only have access to the minority of Americans who live like nobility. He didn’t ask to be whisked off to the Hamptons every summer as if it was just what “was done”. He didn’t ask to only get to listen to classical music instead of integrating with normal culture. He was raised in conditions the likes of which no one outside of the top 1% has ever seen. Therefore, it makes sense he’d end up different from most people…he was going to end up really weird no matter what. And if anyone doesn’t have a right to criticize someone for being “abnormal”…it’s me. So while I used to despise him, I’m now conflicted. I like to be around him and talk with him…but something in me can’t stand the thought of him. All I know is, there is no reason to hate someone because they’re rich. There is no reason to HATE in general. But the feeling of general DISDAIN should come from how a person conducts themselves, not what means they were born into. Rich boy acts like an angel on a shallow level, a monster on a deeper level. He’s a complex case, but not deserving of Hitler-level derision.

Life lesson learned. Never hate, only investigate why it is you so desperately want to hate. Hate doesn’t solve anything, and neither does constantly bitching.

Another life lesson learned. The concept of “rich” is not a good thing. Inequity is, in fact, the cause of most of the world’s problems. But it is not necessarily “the rich” who we should hate—it’s the system that put them in such a position in the first place.