Bootstraps Are Heavy - Willing to pay for my privilege.

                Perhaps it is true, as I've heard, that I vote with my heart. But while I do take sentiment into account I am very clear about who I vote for and why I vote for them.   I know what both the party and the candidate stand for.  I never, ever, enter the ballot box being anything less than well informed.

                And on a side note, while everyone thinks that they know who I am loyal to I have, in my time, voted for every major party.

                I do, however, have a litmus test.  I rarely think about government without picturing a former neighbour of mine.  Her name is Kerry and she drove me crazy, turned my life upside down and caused me many, many heartaches but she and her three kids from three different daddies – none of whom stuck around - is who I think about when it comes to casting a vote

                First, her story.  Kerry was, when we met, in her early 30’s with three young children, 9, 5 & 2.  We had just moved into a semi-detached house in a court in a nice area in Hamilton (oh my, I miss that house…).  When we arrived we found that the neighbours in this cul-de-sac were up in arms.  Kerry and her family were on welfare and the City had turned two of those semi’s into the dreaded public housing.  The long-time residents on this little street were very, very angry.

                Now being new to the area and always having had a heightened sense of fair-play I undertook the task of befriending this single mom and her kids.  My philosophy has always been that bootstraps are heavy and that we can’t always pull them up by ourselves so may be I could at least help. It wasn’t easy getting close to Kerry.  She was angry and suspicious and her kids, well the two boys at least, demonstrated a bit of a mean streak.  But we stuck it out having meals together and inviting them to swim in our pool on hot summer days.

                Kerry, herself a child of a single mom, was the poster child for that awful expression “welfare inherits welfare”.  Her mom was uneducated, had never worked a day and Kerry herself quit school in grade 8.  Kerry lived a life that I had rarely witnessed growing up – her life was in the margins while I was clearly entrenched in the mainstream.

                I wanted more for Kerry.  I wanted her self-confidence to rise so that she wouldn’t go back to the man who beat her so badly that her whole face had been broken and her teeth knocked out.  I wanted her to be able to take some job training so that she could enjoy the satisfaction of bringing home a pay cheque.  I wanted her to be self-assured enough that she could perform a job well without being terrified that she would get fired.  I wanted her to be secure enough that she wouldn’t feel the need to respond to people with belligerence and hostility. I wanted her kids to be helped at school so that they could “succeed beyond their breeding” (how awful is that….) and finish high school before entering the “real world”.

                I wanted her to be – me.

                Today I still want the social welfare system to be able to do all of those things - to counsel her, to train her, to support her, to educate her.  Fantasy? Maybe. And just for the record no, I don’t like that some of my taxes go to people who have simply decided not to work.  No, I don’t like having a part of the money I’ve earned finance someone’s bad habits like picking up a 24 of beer before buying milk for the cereal or sitting on the phone trying to score some weed.  I don’t like any of those things.

                But I live in hope.  I live in hope that the social safety net will do more than simply prevent people like Kerry from falling through the cracks.

                I live in hope that the money that I pay to the government will do more than finance her staying home but rather will work towards giving her the tools she needs to rise about her situation.

                I am so privileged.  My parents taught me well about how to “be” in the world.  I had every opportunity when it came to security, education and job connections.  No one ever looked down on me and told me I couldn’t – I always knew that I could.  I simply want Kerry’s kids to at least have a chance.

                Here’s the test.

                Private health care? Can Kerry receive the same treatment in the same time frame?

                School fees and extra-curricular?  Can Kerry offer those same opportunities to her kids?

                Affordable housing?  Is it possible for Kerry to live in a decent area in something she can afford?

                I know that not all of these “tests” fall on the back of the government.  I know that if they are political it is not just municipal, provincial or federal.  I know that what I want my money to go towards (programs, education, counselling, job training) isn’t often spent that way.

                But I live in hope.

                Kerry looms large for me at election time.  If part of what I pay in taxes can go towards lifting her out of the depths, that’s how I vote.

                May be I do vote with my heart.  Bootstraps are heavy – maybe I can help.