The Invisible Americans

The author of the following open letter to the President of the United States is anonymous, but it tells the story of a growing class of people here in America.

Dear President Obama and members of Congress,

I’m writing this ‘letter’ more out of a need to express myself than with any true thought that it will actually be read.  At least not by anyone who might be in a position to represent my voice in a Congress that has an ear only for those voices which will further their own, or their parties agendas.  Of course, if I declare that I’m one of the many uninsured Americans then maybe those pushing for Health Care reform would be interested in what I have to say.  And although it’s true, I am uninsured, that’s really not the purpose of this letter.

Just what is that purpose?  To introduce you to a class of Americans that you may not be aware exist.  We aren’t homeless (yet) or getting any type of government assistance like food stamps, medicaid or welfare checks.  It’s not that we might not qualify, it’s just that we feel that walking into a local office to apply for that type of assistance feels like defeat.

Because you see Mr. Obama ( I hope you don’t mind my calling you that), we are fighting a battle every day.  Some of us are out of work and searching for jobs that can’t be found and others, are creating their own businesses and struggling to make money.  We dance for joy when enough money comes in to pay the rent for the month or keep the utilities paid and then start worrying about next month and the bills that we can’t pay.  The outstanding student loans, credit cards and others that aren’t required to live.

It’s not that we don’t want to pay them, but when it comes down to a roof over your head and food to eat we have no choice but to leave them unpaid.  We are embarrassed by it, but have no choice.

And speaking of eating, we’ve read all about the need for healthier Americans, but unfortunately the healthy food is the most expensive to buy.  When your grocery budget is smaller than the cost of most peoples phone bills, you have no choice but buy the cheaper, high fat cuts of meat and things like mac & cheese.  Fresh vegetables and lean meats are out of the question.  It appears that in America you need to be rich to eat healthy.  In fact I’m sure that some peoples grocery bill per month is perhaps higher than my gross earnings for the month.

Some of our children started off getting college educations, but now, with our credit ruined and no way to pay, their financial aid isn’t sufficient to allow them to remain to continue.  And try as they might, they can’t find a job.  Because with so many adults with families out of work, whose going to hire a kid without dependents?

We fight the battle every day, waking up with optimism and determination and going to bed with the same fears and worries as the day before.  How long can we survive this way?

We haven’t always been like this.  We were once your middle class, with white picket fences and 2.2 children living in the suburbs in our own home, attending PTA meetings and football games. We were alot like you, wondering not if we were going to eat, but what and where.  It’s still a shock to us that our lives have changed so drastically, and maybe in some ways we are still in denial, hoping that tomorrow we’ll wake up and be greeted by that picket fence again.

Although the numbers would tell us we’re poor, we’re a proud bunch, and resilient.  We have a hard time swallowing that label.  We tell ourselves we’re ‘frugal’ and ‘thrifty’.  When in truth, we don’t go places and do things because we can’t afford gas for the car or money to get in.  No one would know from looking at us either.  We dress well, and no one would ever guess that the last time we bought new clothes was over a year ago. And generally Mr. President, we don’t complain.

But there in Washington, DC I’m pretty sure no one is aware of us.  We’re not on the welfare rolls, so you don’t number us amongst the poor and we’re no longer middle class.  It seems we’re a whole new class of Americans and we’re invisible to those that represent the American people there in America’s capitol.

If only each and every one of you could spend a few months living just the way we do, wondering if the next paycheck is going to come and what you’re going to do if it doesn’t.  Apologizing to creditors calling for payment and explaining yet again to your landlord or lender why your payment is going to be late again. They need to go to a grocery store with $30 and try to buy enough to eat for a week as well as necessary items like soap and toilet tissue.  Then maybe we wouldn’t be invisible anymore.

The funny thing is, we aren’t asking our government for a handout.  We simply want  you to see us, recognize us and what we’re dealing with and find a way not to try to solve all of our problems, but to provide us with something to grab onto so that we can help ourselves.  This letter, in it’s small, rather insignificant way is our way of saying “We’re here” .  We need a Horton to hear us.