Faith And Collective Trauma 18

What makes us strong? There is lots of talk about empowerment and disempowerment. I live in a statistical category that does not allow for weakness. I am a white male. It is assumed that I have the benefits of white privilege and that I should simply coast through life, graduating from a decent university, working in a meaningful and nicely paid profession, marry and have a family, own a nice home, two cars, go on annual world vacations and cruises, source my food from Urban Fair and Choices, dine every week in the finest restaurants, get politely drunk in the best cocktail lunges, buy my clothes at Nordstrom and Holt Renfrew while living in socially and professionally connected heaven. If I don't enjoy these sweet and low-hanging fruits of privilege then I probably haven't worked hard enough. That is the stereotype and it is appalling how many stupid people there are out their who swallow this nonsense. I am a white male, and I struggled through two and a half semesters of community college and had to drop out because my low wage job as a home care worker sapped all my energy and night classes were no longer an option, not if I wanted to do my job well and pay the rent while studying. I couldn't handle the exhaustion, and no one was going to pay the bills for me if I left my work, and I was already traumatized from collection agents for what I already owed in defaulted student loans, defaulted because my low wage employment didn't leave me with anything left after paying for the necessities. I had neither the Bank of Mom and Dad nor Hotel Mom and Dad to rely on, except for two semesters at Langara when my father shelled out a few hundred for my support at community college under duress from both my mother and from Canada Student Loan. Otherwise, I was on my own. I was a child of divorce and spent my teenage years surviving two hostile parents who kept defaulting on their responsibilities towards me as their son. I was also a survivor of abuse from both of them and my older brother combined, so I didn't have a lot in the way of emotional reserves for doing spectacularly well in life. In the meantime I worked hard to survive, being unable to get even into decently paying union work. Doors simply kept closing on me. A lot of people in my situation, ended up on the street with addictions and mental health issues. I managed to avoid a lot of that while struggling on. My faith in Christ and my experience of his presence and desire to honour God kept me a float through all this. In my weakness I have become strong. I know what it's like to be poor, insecurely housed and not at all housed. I know what its' like to be harassed by police while simply minding my own business, I know what it's like to be judged by others for not doing as well as them. I know what it's like to be marginalized and wrongly hated. These things have all made me stronger. I am nobody's victim. Every day when I go to work in my underpaid employment as a mental health peer support worker, I do not dwell on how unfairly we are treated and how unfair is our low wage. I think of my clients, of how to work well with them and almost always find something to appreciate and enjoy in each contact. When I come home to my tiny subsidized apartment, I but rarely complain about difficult neighbours and noise outside in my unappealing downtown neighbourhood. Sometimes, yes, but usually I am grateful that I have a place to live in the city where I was born, and that I am safe and secure in this little apartment which has become for me a sanctuary. My family is dead and gone and I have had to make new friends, but the latter blessing is much better than the former. I enjoy good health and each day I can walk outside and absorb something of the beauty of the natural world. Without the false illusory privilege that white males are supposed to be entitled to, I have come across something of infinitely greater value and on top of that I am envious of no one.