This week held an interesting combination of experiences for me. I have had a lot going on personally and financially so it has been hard to focus on the program exclusively. But, these experiences have heightened some aspects of this week’s topics in an interesting way. Last week we visited my workplace, the National Domestic Workers Alliance and I was really moved by the connection Julia made with Barbara, one of our organizers and a domestic worker, over her nanny who still works for their family twenty or so years later. Last week was also my nanny’s birthday, and it was really special to make contact with her again when we don’t get to talk much. We spent a lot of time talking about the ways that people with certain types of privilege, based on race, gender, socioeconomic status, education or what-have-you should align themselves alongside those with less privilege in order to bring about change. As a straight white woman I felt fingers pointing at me, and I agree that I should do my best to throw my support behind others with less privilege, or to use a politically charged word, the less-fortunate. Among these discussions I felt as though I were expected to join the Mink Brigade and hit the streets, but what if I can’t afford that mink coat? During these discussions priviledge is used in such black and white terms that while room for intersecting identities, there is less room for discussions about Money. That capital is intentional. I am not talking about the money in your pocket, but the families that make up the Moneyed Class. Honestly, of all of the types of privilege that I’ve been given I think that my education is the most powerful. The name Duke inspires real respect in most people. The fact that my mom went to Cotillion and taught me how to interact with moneyed people also helps. (Yes, I’ll admit that this is a benefit given to me by race. I’ll also point out that my only friend who went to Cotillion in school was black.)

One stop on our whirlwind tour was at the Tenement Museum and something that really surprised me is that we did not really stop to have a discussion about where our families were from and how they had gotten here. Some of us may not know, but I do know that my great-grandmother came through Ellis Island in its early years and very likely ended up in a small, dark apartment with her married sister, a lot like the one we visited. A few days later I had a conversation with someone in which I brought up the fact that my family has a cabin in the mountains, and she gave me a look. This is a look I know well, particularly when talking about the cabin. The “I didn’t realize you were Moneyed” look. Funnily enough, the tenement bedroom reflected the size of our “Master” bedroom, with my room being even smaller. If America would fall into another great depression the Bartleson-Marr family be well prepared by the laundry facilities available in the cabin, a wire basket filled with stubs of bars of soap and an old washboard. All of this seems to be working up to one point, namely, “Stop looking at me and own your own power!” Don’t try to take mine away but denigrating it as inherited privilege. My family and I have worked really hard for it and it depreciates more quickly than you can imagine with lack of use. Looks like yours discourage me from joining in the movement.