October is an incredibly difficult month at Harvard. Reality sets in that it's no longer the beginning of the year, midterm season begins, and people start wearing suits all the time. Why? It might have something to do with the invasion of corporate recruiters and the onset of punch season (what students at every other college in America call "rushing"). This will not be a rant about how elitist and repulsive final clubs are: plenty of people on campus discuss this issue all the time. It would be hypocritical of me to complain about them, in fact, because I have enjoyed myself at some of the places precisely because they are supposed to be important spaces on campus. What interests me about this time is that you get to see, in a practical manner, how important belonging to a perceived space of power is for some students' identity here at my favorite Ivy and about what all this means for me, as well.
Having grown up in the New York private school scene and spending the past 2.5 years on this campus, I'm no longer shocked as I watch young men (and women) struggle to enter "powerful" social circles. I'm no longer washed anew each day by how many people plan their careers and futures at the age of 19, 20 and 21. Nor do I begrudge the people offered these opportunities to take full advantage them. Instead, this month reminds me of something: one day, I won't be in school anymore and I will have to make my own way financially. Much as I try to pretend that my life will always be about school, watching other people suit up to get into the right clubs in order to make the right connections which will eventually lead to the right careers and lifestyles grounds me a bit.
I realized this, that is, the power money and my future have over me, most especially last week when I lost my wallet in a cab. Seems mostly harmless, no? You lose your stuff and you try to find it. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. It wasn't harmless, though. My debit card was subsequently stolen and used to make purchases at Footlocker (I've never shopped at Footlocker and have maybe visited 2 of their stores in my 20 year existence) and in various grocery stores in Dorchester (again, places I've never visited). In addition to being robbed and deprived of access to money, I began to depend on other people to help me do what I wanted to. Chinese food at 2:30 in the morning? I had to ask my friends for it. A slice of pizza and a Vitamin water? I needed my friends to agree to pay for it before I could safely know that I could have it.
It wasn't only the lack of agency to make my own purchases and the fact that I had to depend on the kindness of others that got to me: it was the fact that I realized, like many of my male peers, that money and power are connected in such a way that not only is the physical paper important but that these entities define our sense of importance. I spent those days feeling empty and useless for no other reason than that I was missing access to my savior (aka my debit card). I shouldn't have felt breathless as many times as I did considering food, shelter and my lovely classes were all available to me in addition to all the supportive people in my life who surround me. But what continued to get me down was this belief that without the ability to navigate my surroundings with money and, in my mind, free choice, I had no "value."
I also discovered this fear that not only money but the idea of money controlled me as I've sat through various career fairs and events this past month. Much like final club boys, I've been dressing up to give the appearance that I am someone "worthy" of belonging to wealthy institutions. I've donned heals for consulting companies, Teach for America presentations and public interest careers. And I've felt like a prostitute at each one of them: "Come here, baby, hire me. I'm the one you want. I'm wearing the right clothes and I'm smiling the way you like, right?" At the same time, I realize that this is and will be my reality in the next couple years and in my future in general. I'm getting a little too long in the tooth to deny that anymore and, quite frankly, it keeps me up some nights.
My main take away from all of these experiences is that I need to balance reality with an awareness that the capitalistic terms we use to refer to ourselves such as "valuable" and "worthy" are themselves problematic. How can I do this, though, when I wake up each day in a Harvard owned bed and the consciousness that I will have to make good on the promise of a great (and in American terms, this is usually defined financially) future? Are the desire to be financially secure and to,at the same time, reject being defined by my bank account mutually exclusive? More realistically, why can't I calm myself even with this new perspective? What's up with that?
