Broken Bootstraps

The Civil Rights movement took place a century after the emancipation of the slaves. This means that, 100 long years after the government finally saw fit to put in writing that “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States,” and that “the right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged…on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude,” black people were marching across bridges and boycotting buses and walking into schools flanked by members of the armed forces, in an attempt to gain equal status under the law.

One of my least favorite modern concepts is the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” concept. The general idea is that black people haven’t been held down — slavery’s been abolished for centuries! — but rather that they have chosen to remain underprivileged, earning less money, receiving inferior educations, and ending up in prison at an alarmingly high rate.

This is, of course, complete bullshit. An entire race of people did not decide, collectively, to take a lesser place in society, to face constant struggle at every turn.

In 1954, the landmark case of Brown v. Board of Education determined that schools should become desegregated. And, as we all know, tolerance moves fast in this country, so of course all the little white boys and girls and all their white parents and teachers immediately welcomed black boys and girls into their schools with open arms.

In 1960, Ruby Bridges marched, flanked by U.S. Marshals, into an all-white elementary school, and was taught by the only woman that would teach her, in a class all by herself. This was the reality of America the year my mom was born.

The Fair Housing Act was not passed until 1968, which states that it is unlawful to “refuse to sell or rent…or otherwise make unavailable or deny, a dwelling to any person because of race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.” This means that, until 1968 (for some perspective, my mother would have been in the 3rd grade), white landowners could refuse to rent to black people. This means that, until 1968, housing segregation was not entirely uncommon. When you consider that housing determines your schooling, it’s not hard to understand how simply one generation ago, my mom and her siblings could have been denied an equal education to my dad. One generation. Think about how much of your education comes from your parents, your grandparents. Even the simple process of applying for college was a mystery to my family, because they never did that.

So you have this generation of people, for whom legal racism was a reality, or at least a recent memory, raising today’s adults.

Let me make this more concrete. The cost of applying to medical school — not attending, just applying — is estimated to be around $15,000. Between application fees, the MCAT (including tutoring), airline fees, buying clothes for interviews, and hotels, every student applying to medical school should have $15,000 set aside.

Imagine I am applying for medical school. My parents were from the first generation allowed access to an equal education, and they went through elementary, junior, and high school, overcoming their own parents’ educational deficits (Boomers, think about how many times you’ve helped your kids with their homework, and Millennials, think about how often you asked your parents for help). My parents earned excellent grades, despite having constantly fought against still-prominent racism in their schools, still bearing those emotional scars. They, miraculously, got into college, despite their race being listed on their applications, and their parents wanting to give them a name that tied to their heritage, like Shanae, that made the old white man looking through applications wince. Imagine, somehow, that my grandparents, despite working menial jobs and being high-school educated at best, could afford to send my parents to that college. My parents graduated, and procured a successful career, making it through rounds of interviews with racist interviewers and succeeding in winning over racist colleagues to rise through the ranks. And now, they have $15,000 lying around to help me (who likely went through much of this same process), get into medical school.

Sound easy?

Pulling yourself up by your bootstraps doesn’t work. It never has. You cannot pull yourself up by your bootstraps if your bootstraps have been shoddily manufactured, you are prevented from reaching them, and somebody keeps knocking you over every time you try to stand up.