wealth.

My mother wanted to be wealthy. She wanted to be seen by her neighborhood as flagrantly rich. She wanted to be seen in a gaudy sense. I never liked that. Growing up in my family, I wanted the comforts that came along with wealth but not the wealth itself. So let’s talk about wealth.

I liken knowledge to wealth. It is a wealth that resides in the self. If I wore a price tag for my education, it would make me worth over $100,000. And I am okay with that. I recall in church one day when the pastor was telling women to value their virginity, not the men oddly but that is another essay, he said you should be priceless and yet you sell yourself for a nice dinner and a pair of shoes. Things that lose their value. Looking at that, I wondered about the people that had been sexually abused and had something of value, their first sexual experience, taken away from them. Does that make them less? Not in my opinion. But I am one of the lucky ones to still have a say in my sexual encounters. I value that ability has not been taken away.

So when my mother would harp about the things she wanted, I thought to myself, why? We have enough crap. When I was in school I wondered about stuff’s value when every year I was supposed to strive for the next new new. I got tired of trying to keep up with people in that space. But my mother still wanted me to want things. I looked at the Bible verse that claims you shall not want and turned my needs into wants instead. Why? The people around us have the same stuff. What I wanted, and what I needed, was support to do things that I loved.

My father was another problem altogether. He wants and still wants what everyone else has. He never values the possession so much as he values the process of acquisition. And I don’t even think that brings him joy now his income is fixed. In my time living with him, trying to trap me as his finest possession was the thing that still haunts me. I don’t mind being wanted but I do mind being looked at as a possession. Looking at how he treated his other possessions, still wrapped in plastic and undusted, it was not a comfortable space to be mentally.

With this as my background, I never wanted what other people said I should want. I never wanted a big house. I want a house I can afford to clean up. I want a career that makes me want to get up. I want my god touch lover to come. I want a community I can call home.

All the time my family spent living the supposed dream, they were cheating on each other. They were damaging. They had a detached home with a big yard and were far from happy. So clearly my physical objects would not make me wealthy. But my knowledge acquisition? Maybe.