When it comes down to it, I am a people person. I get disgusted with humanity as a whole from time to time, or with large sectors of humanity. But when I am face to face with another member of my species, I tend to find the good. I find points of connection.
If I were to sit down with my Congressman, Tom McClintock, I am pretty sure things would not go well. Even if I didn't have any preconceived notions about the guy--if I hadn't attended the Mariposa Town Hall, if I hadn't read his speeches and statements, if I didn't know his voting record--I suspect it would only take a few minutes before I felt justified in writing him off. He is so smug, so patronizing, so fixed in his viewpoints; I can only assume that he would instantly offend.
Matt, on the other hand, is a charming and personable young man. Matt is one of Tom McClintock's aides: the guy who held the microphone at the Mariposa Town Hall, and has now manned several of Tom McClintock's scheduled office hours in Oakhurst. I would drink a beer with Matt. I would level with him. Something along the lines of, "Come on, Matt. You can tell me. McClintock is a real dick, right? I swear I won't publish it on my blog."
I attended McClintock's Oakhurst office hours for the first time a couple weeks ago. I didn't know what to expect. Recalling the Mariposa Town Hall, when several progressive folk got their tires slashed, I chose not to walk my dog to the meeting spot. I could have tied her up in the shade outside, but what if a McClintock supporter poisoned her? I played it safe, and walked alone.
As it turned out, the office session was nothing like the Town Hall. Matt was the only person in the room who identified with McClintock, and he certainly didn't seem like the dog-poisoning type. He listened, smiled a real smile. He made jokes, and not just about liberal people. He took a lot of notes. He didn't argue. He was in a roomful of his political antagonists, and he managed to remain human.
The hot topic at this month's office session was Trump's recently-released budget plan, a.k.a. A New Foundation for American Greatness. No one mentioned it by name, I guess because we were trying to keep a serious tone. But it was what drove the conversation.
A pharmacist was concerned about Trump's proposed axing of the student loan debt forgiveness program for public servants. The executive director of our local tourism bureau was concerned about the axing of BrandUSA, which I had never heard of before, but which is evidently a publicly-funded organization focused on promoting U.S. tourism to the rest of the world. And I raised my voice about Trump's proposed axing of poor people.
Okay, I guess he hasn't yet announced any plans to directly eliminate poor people. But with A New Foundation for American Greatness, he proposes to cut the lifeline to America's most vulnerable populations with drastic slashes to food stamps and Medicaid.
If we are to believe the rhetoric about social welfare programs that has been promoted by Republicans since FDR's New Deal, I am an anomaly. That is because I once used food stamps, Medicaid, and various other entitlements, and now I don't. The reason I used those programs was that I was a single mom trying to get an education and somehow still put food on the table. The reason I don't anymore was that I finally got that education, and was lucky enough to find work that allows me to pay my own way. Contrary to the rhetoric, I was happy to give up entitlements once I saw my own, strong safety net taking shape.
The thing is, I'm not an anomaly--not the way McClintock and his ilk think I am, anyway. This is what I tried to convey to Matt. Nobody wants to be on public assistance. Approach any welfare recipient of sound body and mind, and offer them a good job. Not a Wal-Mart job, not something that will barely push them out of eligibility while decreasing their quality of life and probably also their income. That's not a real choice. Offer them a job that pays a livable wage and benefits, and allows them to still parent their children. In that scenario, public assistance is well worth leaving behind.
The sense in which I am an anomaly is that I had certain privileges that made public assistance inherently temporary for me. My parents bought my undergraduate education; I was on the familial dole for those four years, and didn't need to ask the government for help. By graduate school, I had spent my share of the family's college fund, and had to go it alone. I cobbled together a meager income from stipends, student loans, and credit cards. At first, I was a relatively well-off poor person, eligible only for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) nutritional assistance and the Children's Health Insurance Program (CHIP). Toward the end, I dipped below the federal poverty level, and qualified for food stamps and Medicaid. But I was a graduate student. I knew that once I got my Master's degree, I could get a professional-level job. Entitlements were just a waystation, a little cache of resources that I could pick up and be along my way. I was a runner bearing down on the finish line.
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| One of many such billboards along Highway 99 right now, demonstrating how crucial California's Medicaid program is to its residents |
If we are to believe the rhetoric about social welfare programs that has been promoted by Republicans since FDR's New Deal, I am an anomaly. That is because I once used food stamps, Medicaid, and various other entitlements, and now I don't. The reason I used those programs was that I was a single mom trying to get an education and somehow still put food on the table. The reason I don't anymore was that I finally got that education, and was lucky enough to find work that allows me to pay my own way. Contrary to the rhetoric, I was happy to give up entitlements once I saw my own, strong safety net taking shape.
The thing is, I'm not an anomaly--not the way McClintock and his ilk think I am, anyway. This is what I tried to convey to Matt. Nobody wants to be on public assistance. Approach any welfare recipient of sound body and mind, and offer them a good job. Not a Wal-Mart job, not something that will barely push them out of eligibility while decreasing their quality of life and probably also their income. That's not a real choice. Offer them a job that pays a livable wage and benefits, and allows them to still parent their children. In that scenario, public assistance is well worth leaving behind.
The sense in which I am an anomaly is that I had certain privileges that made public assistance inherently temporary for me. My parents bought my undergraduate education; I was on the familial dole for those four years, and didn't need to ask the government for help. By graduate school, I had spent my share of the family's college fund, and had to go it alone. I cobbled together a meager income from stipends, student loans, and credit cards. At first, I was a relatively well-off poor person, eligible only for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) nutritional assistance and the Children's Health Insurance Program (CHIP). Toward the end, I dipped below the federal poverty level, and qualified for food stamps and Medicaid. But I was a graduate student. I knew that once I got my Master's degree, I could get a professional-level job. Entitlements were just a waystation, a little cache of resources that I could pick up and be along my way. I was a runner bearing down on the finish line.
For most Americans on public assistance, it's not that easy. These are people in generational poverty, who don't have family money to fall back on, and aren't considering grad school. In fact, nearly a third of households receiving food stamps in 2014 were headed by people without a high school diploma. In the past, that figure has been well over half [1]. These are people for whom accepting full-time work means relinquishing as much as 50 percent of their income to child care [2]. These are people with transportation issues, language barriers, physical or mental impairments severe enough to make working difficult, but not severe enough to yield disability benefits. These are people living at the ragged edge of the American Dream. They are keenly aware of the Dream; they see it every day on their screens, at the grocery store, on the subway. But for them, it's as unattainable as the Presidency.
Meanwhile, our President is doing all he can to keep the Dream exclusive. A New Foundation for American Greatness proposes to cut $194 billion from food stamps and $627 billion from Medicaid over a 10-year period [3]. If that weren't enough, he also proposes a $70 billion cut to disability insurance [4]. The goal is to "close eligibility loopholes, target benefits to the neediest households, and require able-bodied adults to work" [5].
The President would have us believe that a lot of undeserving people are getting a free ride. But who are those people? First of all, public assistance recipients are overwhelmingly not "able-bodied adults"; two-thirds of those receiving food stamps are children, elderly, or disabled [6]. Able-bodied adults with no dependents may receive short-term food stamps relief while unemployed, but for long-term coverage, such adults are required to work at least 20 hours per week.
Secondly, to be eligible for food stamps and Medicaid, you have to make less than 130 percent of the federal poverty level. Perhaps you don't know how low that is. The federal poverty level for 2017 is $24,600 for a family of four. So, to qualify for food stamps and Medicaid, your gross income needs to be less than $31,980. What's more, your assets, at any given point in time, can't exceed $2,250. I learned the hard way that this includes college savings accounts for children. The bottom line is, you need to be dirt poor to qualify for these programs, and the government needs to see you eat your kids' chance for a future before they will step in to help.
Although the atmosphere at McClintock's recent office session was neighborly, my voice shook when I finally spoke up. Any kind of public speaking makes me nervous; a casual chat with Matt and a handful of my fellow peaceniks was no exception. On top of that, I was sharing something personal. In our country, there is an undeniable stigma against people who rely on public assistance to make ends meet. At the office session, I revealed that I was, up until recently, such a person. I made a shaky plug for the protection of food stamps and Medicaid from Trump's proposed cuts. I reminded McClintock, through Matt, that these cuts will certainly affect people in California's 4th Congressional District. Matt nodded and took notes.
Tom McClintock is not a man of the people. He doesn't listen. He doesn't sympathize. He doesn't even live in the district he represents. I don't expect him to care whether his constituents have health coverage and enough to eat. I do expect him to care whether they vote for him. I can only hope that Trump's proposed keel-haul of entitlement programs will hit home with McClintock--or more accurately, just 22 miles up the hill from home, where his district begins. In the meantime, you'll find me at the Oakhurst office hours.
References
[1] Center for Poverty Research study on food stamps: http://www.ukcpr.org/sites/www.ukcpr.org/files/documents/DP2013-01.pdf
[2] Cost of child care for people living in poverty: http://www.chn.org/2015/01/07/fact-week-child-care-cost-nearly-half-income-family-poverty-level/#.WTRRVn2Tsxs
[3] How Trump's budget would affect every part of government: https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/05/23/us/politics/trump-budget-details.html
[4] Trump's proposed cuts to the disability program: https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/31/us/politics/food-stamps-disability-benefits-trump-budget.html
[5] A New Foundation for American Greatness
[6] Primer on the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program (SNAP), a.k.a. food stamps: http://www.cbpp.org/research/policy-basics-introduction-to-the-supplemental-nutrition-assistance-program-snap
Thank you for saying how I feel.
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