Member-only story
Breaking Out of My Bubble
Realizing white privilege
I was a child of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s who grew up in a lower middle-class household. My clothes were hand-me-downs (I was the third person in line to get them), and I often went around with a huge safety pin at my waistband to hold my pants up. Most of my other clothes were homemade.
I was taught to sew as a child, and went to a fabric store to pick through the remnants table for fabric (not the new cloth on the bolts) to make clothing with. I was also taught to knit, so that I could make hats, scarves, and mittens.
When we went grocery shopping, my Mom (more often than not) would have to decide which items to put back once we got to the checkout line. (Is anybody reading old enough to remember those little “clicking counters” gadgets before the days of calculators?)
Living in Rhode Island, where we have cold winters, I can remember shivering in my bed all night, as it was too expensive to keep the heat up. I also did my homework wearing mittens and wrapped up in a blanket.
I went out to eat at a restaurant for the first time when I was 16 (my mother cooked every night). We tried to go on vacation to a neighboring state every two or three years, for a few nights in a cabin by a lake.
