When I was in my 20’s I met a girl. She was a pretty girl with a pretty smile. She was a tireless worker. She lived in New York City, but left her life there to come home to a small isolated island in the Pacific Ocean named Guam. She had advanced degrees in engineering and biology. She had dreams of being a doctor someday. Yet, her parents were getting old and they called on her to come back and take care of them. It was what daughter’s did in her culture. Actually in most every culture, it was the daughters who took care of the parents. So she worked as a medical assistant, making just enough to get by.
When we met I had recently graduated from university. I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. My father took an opportunity in Guam working for the civil service. I was born in Guam, but I had bad memories of the island when I was a child. I wanted to see if maybe I could turn that into something different. So I went with them.
Then I met her. She was a few years older than me. She also was more ‘ready’ to settle down. But she stayed with me. She took really good care of me. At one point, I had no job, and I was another mouth to feed. I went into depression and spent hours on my dial-up internet connection, surfing the internet, waiting for her to get off of another 12 hour shift. She even cooked me dinner.
She bought me a $1000 guitar with money she didn’t have. It was my birthday and she knew I wanted it. I got to be honest. I let her buy it for me. I let her do many things for me. She was carrying my water, and the water of both her parents. She was exhausted and run down and I let her keep going. Taking care of others was what she knew best.
I still think back to her with regret. With guilt. I leaned heavily on her, but who did she have to lean on? I knew it was wrong, but I wallowed in my own pity anyways. I was a victim, and I played it well. She didn’t have that luxury.
So when I read about the disaffected white male population lashing out against women and minorities and everyone but them, I understand the anger. We hear about the ever-growing group of white males who are unemployed and not actively looking for work. They are prone to drug and alcohol abuse and marathon sessions of Call of Duty on a Monday morning.
They are represented by a man who never had to carry his own water a day in his life. I thought about Donald Trump when he trotted out General John Kelly in a press conference recently to use his reputation and dead son’s legacy to carry the water for the priviledged narcissist.
It was sickening. It is sickening. To carve out a significant portion of your time as POTUS to playing golf, watching news, and mean tweeting. We live in a country of those who do not carry their own water. They are cared for by mothers, wives, sons, daughters, minorities, and our military. They don’t need to be. They are quite capable. Maybe they lost some of their priviledge and they sense all hope is lost. This is what they see in Trump. They feel emasculated by the lack of easy opportunities because the opportunities are expected. When they dry up there is something wrong with the system. It’s the system, not them.
Who gives our young boys this set of expectations in life? That college, high paying jobs, and pretty women are waiting for us. All we need to do is try a little and it’s all there for the taking. Donald told us that it’s there, all you need to do is grab it with one hand. They’ll even let you do it. There’s no water for us to carry. That sits on the back of the others.
And if we don’t receive what is expected, then we burn the whole system to the ground before even considering carrying our weight.