Ranting, fuming, and crying

This day began with moonrise and sunrise together like a couple who've been singing arias of longing to each other for a month.

Soon after the sun-and-moon rose, someone I love was on the phone sobbing. “My landlady said it was OK, I could pay half my rent the first of the month and the other half on the 15th, but she didn’t tell me she’d be charging late fees, $10 a day. So when I took her the $287 I owed, she said I owe her another $120 in late fees. I can’t ever catch up.” Next month the problem will come again. 

The rage of the poor rises up. Rage against “It’s in your lease” (the fine print), rage against “I can’t make an exception for you; if I do it for you, I have to do it for everyone.” Rage against her employer, refusing to pay overtime: “It’s in your contract” (the fine print), “You should have known.” So when she worked 115 hours in two weeks, they paid her for 80 hours and added $60 as a “tip” she was expected to be grateful for. It’s always the poor person’s fault when the rich exploit them, refuse to pay or demand payment, reap the harvest of their labor. Tears of helplessness and rage.

Later I heard from a houseless man, recently laid off from a job that didn’t earn him enough money to pay rent. He has a little home with a tent and a couple of tarps on a sidewalk under a bridge. The police left a sign on his tent this morning: everything he has—his tent, his tarps, his garbage bags—will be confiscated and trashed in three days. I asked if he can move his tent and tarps to another place. He doesn’t know. Wherever he goes, the police will sweep him away again. Tears of helplessness and rage.

This cannot be solved with a handful of dollars. It is daily, monthly, endless. It is systemic. The underpaid labor of the poor benefits the rich, while the easily-distracted middle class looks the other way and goes shopping. Tears of helplessness and rage.

When the lockdowns and stay-homes are over, we need a whole new system.