My Government Shutdown Story

By Eva Dickerson (Maryland)

My parents love me, clothe me, and feed me; as long as the last one is checked off I’m happy so I never really thought about where the money that funds those things comes from. Of course, I’ve been to both of their places of business, so I have a vague sense of what they do, but when it comes down to the nitty gritty of it, I’m lost. When people ask what my father does I smile and give them my funny little quip about how I should know, because his full title is in his company voice mail, but I never feel like listening to the whole thing so I’ve always just said ‘my father is an executive’. With my mother it’s even simpler, no quip or story, simply: ‘my mother is a registered nurse.’

I didn’t know she worked as a nurse for a government until she picked me up from work.

Visibly, she looked frazzled, but both of my parents are the type of people who get worked up over small things, so I wasn’t very shaken. But instead of sassing me when I told her I did nothing at school that day, she just nodded her head and I finally gave into having a somewhat committed conversation with one of my parents. “Well seeing as I don’t have a job anymore…” was not what I expected when I asked about work. Panic: did my mom get fired? Don’t nurses have tenure? Did she get really fed up and quit? “Um no, crazy. The government shutdown? The reason you didn’t sleep last night?” Watching C-Span the night of the shutdown was, admittedly, kind of like watching the season finally of The Voice: it was exciting- people were live tweeting! I was mad of course, and worried, but mostly I was trying to out pun the other 3 million facebook and twitter users. I was disconnected from the situation. All throughout that day I’d discussed the terms of the shutdown in the context of someone who wouldn’t be affected. I thought about writing about it, but didn’t see the point from my position of privilege. But in the silence of my car, I realized I wasn’t disconnected from the situation. That’s when I got appropriately angry about the situation as a person affected by it.

I still didn’t know how truly messed up we were.

Yesterday morning, I got up at 6:30 and took a shower like I always do. I almost missed by bus because I took too long picking out my clothes like I always do. I ate lunch with my friends like I always do. And I didn’t worry about money or where I’d get my next meal like I always do. Because in truth, my mother’s income is disposable to our family. Like I mentioned, my father is an executive and holds the title of bread winner in our family. My mother works because she likes helping others, and she wanted to raise her children in a home where mom and dad both worked. When I got home, I made jokes about congress’ failure because I was able to laugh about it. But it’s not funny. Today, my mom drove me to school, and as I sat in the car thinking how abnormal it was to have a relaxed morning with her, I realized nothing had changed for me and very little (besides my mother’s hovering presence) would change for me.

“ — ‘s mom works for the government too, right? I’m so worried for them” was the sentence that got me appropriately livid about the situation as a Democrat. My mom and I began to list off all the single parents we knew who would not be working, not receiving income, because of the shut down. Our list was too big for two hands. All of the kids who raised their hand in response to “whose parents are out of work?” in all 6 of my periods was too much for two hands. 800,000 projected families is too much for two hands.

When I got home from school, my mom told be she applied for unemployment benefits, and I recounted a joke my friend made: “when do our parents go back to school? I’m kinda sick of coming home to my dad: ‘hey champ, when are ya gonna start your homework?’”. But for millions of Americans this is not a joke. I’m grateful for the blessing of my position in life everyday, but for millions of Americans, their position in life is a burden.

In physics class, in an effort to rile my peers, I shouted “Are you proud of yourself,113th congress?”

That’s really the question of the hour because I am painfully disappointed in my government.