ugly American

I am the epitome of the ugly American.

At least as appearances go. I grew up upper-middle class in small town Wisconsin, the son of a physician. Everything I needed was provided for me. I drove a car in high school. So did my brother, sister, step-brother and step-sister. We all had our own. I went to Boston College, a private university in Boston. My siblings also attended a private university, Marquette in Milwaukee. We were able to see each other often because we could afford the airfare. I am white, healthy and have a different set of clothes to wear each day of the week. I do laundry when I run out of clean underwear. This takes over two weeks. I eat meat whenever I wish. If I go a day without having three meals and some snacks inbetween I feel deprived. When I feel sick or have an injury I see the doctor without a thought. I can afford insurance. I go from A to B without worrying because I can always find a car to use. If not I have money to use the BART or catch the bus. It costs over $5 to go to San Francisco and back. I have this money if I wish to see the Lichenstein exhibit at the MOMA. When I fall asleep at night there is a roof over my head. When I wake up I walk straight to the shower. I do not have to share my soap with anyone and the water is always hot. If it was not I would curse. I get to choose what I eat in the morning, in the afternoon and at night. I eat popcorn when I watch rented movies. I have the time to build a table for leisure. I do not think about selling it because I do not need the money.

I walked into a room full of Latin American day laborers. I could not speak their language. I had clean clothes to wear. My hands were not beat up from manual labor. I arrived and left in a suburban. I felt uncomfortable. I realized that the social standing I held for my entire life, that I always tried to hold on to, meant nothing. I could not decide whether to participate in their shared meal or not. Would it be noble to refrain? Or would it be pompous? Would it be better to save a meal for someone else or share in the experience? I ate the food. Everyone was provided for. I felt people looking at me. I wondered if the color of my skin meant anything to them. Was I being paraoid? Over-analytical? The men learned about work safety. Steve told me that that was a good thing. I agreed. Contractors continually manipulate and take advantage of immigrants. It makes me angry. I have a nice house because unregistered immigrants do the work no one else wants to do. It keeps our economy running.

I do not apologize for where I came from. I do not ask those who are poor to apologize for where they came from. That would be ridiculous.