Pleather (Blog #4)

I wanted to start the blog with my favorite poem by Langston Hughes:



It's not a very long poem, but when I studied the American Dream in high school it seemed to embody everything that I thought the American Dream was. Though Polyestra may make it seem like the American Dream is impossible to achieve, that isn't true. It may be improbable, but not impossible. But maybe "American Dream" is the wrong phrase. It brings to mind the white picket fences and the lifestyles in "Leave it to Beaver". "Class jumping" (164), as Polyestra puts it, is much more appropriate. At least from my experience, not everyone is looking for the nice house, perfectly manicured lawn, dream job, and trophy wife (or husband) anymore. What people want is the lifestyle.

I actually have a lot more in common with Polyestra than I thought I would when I read the introduction to her short story. My family, like hers, came from humble beginnings. Less than four generations back, my family was one of those that got a fifth grade education and then made their livelihood by living off of the land. I can't even go very far back in my family tree because of adoptions and a history of infidelity.

Still, if you can call it "class jumping", my mother came out of those humble beginnings with an engineering degree and training in etiquette. Just like Polyestra's parents sent her to the country club to learn the rules of etiquette, so my grandmother sent my mother and so my mother sent my younger siblings. I also attended private schools for much of my education, mostly on scholarship. However, even though I performed well and made friends there was always a disconnect. "All of the other girls...had designer jeans" (166) and walk-in closets. They lived in their three story houses (excluding the basement) in Hyde Park and made their name from old-money. Though I could easily adapt to the culture, my younger sister could not.

She was more like Polyestra in that respect. Instead of exercising a certain amount of control, my sister was much happier to blast her rap and hip-hop music and act like a general "hood rat". I can't ever remember being raised that way, but my father was raised in the deep south. He adopted a manner of conducting business at Procter & Gamble that I could see when he made conference calls from home, but as soon as business was done he would revert back to his slang and southern roots. My mother came from detroit and knows how to dance, party, and get into trouble. She also knows how to fight tooth and nail for what she wants. But, for most of my childhood I didn't know these things about my parents. Maybe they wanted it that way. But sometimes it seems like I need to be two people to get ahead.

I guess some could say that my family has jumped class or achieved the American Dream. My family doesn't see it that way. Sanya Richards, the athlete from the video at the beginning of my post, has what I was taught to make of myself. If my mom had her way, I would be some kind of athlete making millions of dollars with enough to let my family live out the rest of their days comfortably. But, that's never what I really wanted to do with my life. "Polyestra is a painter, poet, rock singer, and filmmaker" (164) and she may not be living THE dream, but it seems like she's living HER dream.

"Things do not change; we change." (Thoreau)