In order to be very, very careful, I must leave out most of the salient details that would make this post come alive. Pop. For the safety of the person I want to write about, I’m leaving out most of this story. Their story.
The facts are these: Every day for the past couple of months, I have been made aware of one of my neighbors. Who has no clue that their existence has become a regular—and deeply moving—part of my life. Every day I hold that person, who I suspect is undocumented, in the Light. (That’s Quakerese for pray. Close to it, anyway) Every day, as I do so, I feel the disparity between their life and my own. And more recently, every day, I think about how this situation is exactly like the extraordinary movie, Parasite—only in reverse. I, the privileged one, know one or two important things about them. I know they exist. Close by. They know nothing about me. I don’t exist.
But we both know that something fundamentally wrong is going on. That this person lives in the shadows. And I don’t.
Yep.I live in the “bubble”. which has blown up around me in the last 61 years. Chatting with one neighbor, she said she didn’t know anyone on Mass Health. My son is. She has I guess no idea what the folks I see at MAAP live with. I know enough to be very thankful that I have my own bathroom and am not living in a shelter. Weird.
It slowly creeps up on you, doesn’t it! What “privilege” actually means.