Hi, My Name is Hypocrisy
I’ve got a bit of an issue, and it’s with myself.
Hear me out here.
So I have a background in anthropology, which has sweet fuck-all to do with my current job. It does, however, mean I’m a Class A geek and like everything from the etymology of words (my current reading material) to the feminist and socio-economics of modern (or post-war, really) society, which means that I am officially That Person You Do Not Want To Be Stuck Talking To At a Party. I’m ok with that.
On top of all that, I’m an -ist. An -ist of many types, in fact – I’m a feminist, a pacifist, an eco-ist, and yes, I am a socialist and I don’t feel like a bad person for saying that. I’m not after stealing money, but I do support the idea (and the fact) behind paying higher taxes to provide health care for all. I like knowing that people can get treatment, and I’ll give up more salary to help out. I know a lot of people don’t concur with it, and that’s cool, we can’t all hold hands and sing Kumbaya, now, can we?
I’m a bleeding heart and always have been. We adopt rescue dogs and cats, I have a monthly bit of change that goes out each month to various charities (including the NSPCC and the World Wildlife Federation), and I’m trying to convince Alastair that re-homing a few battery chickens to our humble abode is what the world needs (Jeff is helping encourage. We’ll see.) I have a vegetable patch which seems to be growing in spite of my attempts, as opposed to because of (I find growing vegetables to be so stressful. I know this flies in the face of the activity, but I can’t help it.) I support renewable energy sources, and would be delighted to see a wind farm go up nearby.
And yet…
There was that Boden Camping Debacle of last weekend. Poshy poseur from a non-posh background elbow-rubbing with women named Miranda, their well-dressed husbands Henry and their three perfect children, Poppy, Olivier and Tad. And there we were, camping with the posh tent and the funky dog and the children (one of whom has, it turns out, a name that has become popular. When we named her, we were the only ones we knew with that name. Now, it’s everywhere. Were we trendsetting, or just naive I wonder…)
But it gets worse. I’ve long been an advocate of assisted housing. It was a system that worked well in Sweden – everyone who needed a home could have one. This was reassuring to me as I had grown up with the not-unfounded fear of being a paycheck away from homelessness (now we’re only two missed paychecks away from homelessness. Progress!) Knowing that there was a safety net – even one paid for by the tax payers – made me feel warm fuzzies.
And then a neighbor knocked on the door.
He had info. Info the council hadn’t revealed to everyone and to this date, none of us are sure how this is. But the info wasn’t brilliant.
In England, it’s incredibly hard to get a foot on a rung of the property ladder. If you’re a young couple then buying your first place is near impossible. We were lucky in that we rented, saved a chunk of money, and Alastair had his former marital home in Brighton that he sold (the Swunt, obviously, keeping their palatial former home in Stockholm). Many young couples have to live with their families to accumulate time and money to move out. It’s a sad situation – people need homes. There are homes. The homes cost too much money. People don’t get homes. Home prices continue to go up. I’m no economic expert, here, but even I can see this is untenable.
Said neighbor came by with a leaflet, see, which resulted (no kidding, here) in a number of our neighbors immediately listing their houses for sale. This leaflet showed the massive fields just off to the right of our homes, land that is marked as conservation and a small portion of it listed as farmland. The small farmland has been sold to a property developer, who is going to turn it into 9 low-cost houses (also called “affordable houses”, and in this instance we believe they would be part-owned by the property developer and part-owned by the buyer, however they could also be council-associated housing which is where the crime rates do come into play). The neighborhood is up in arms.
And I thought: My god, we’ve worked so hard on this house and now we have to do things like lock the doors.
Our neighborhood went straight to their House of Commons Representative, and almost overnight I became a NIMBY.
Then came the outcry in my head: Our house price took a nosedive during the crash and still hasn’t recovered, it’ll further go down! We’re going to not even recoup what we’ve put into the house, including the blood, sweat and tears! This is my dream home! There will be an increased crime rate! Our small, not busy neighborhood and our small, not busy country road will become a proper thoroughfare and the children could be at risk from traffic incidents!
Then came the shame: For fuck’s sake! You snobby pretentious shit! People need homes, people need homes they can plant flowers at and feel safe at, and you’re stirring up shit in your head for nothing! Who do you think you are, Princess Di? Stop making things other people’s problems! You care so much about causes, can’t you care about people, too?
Then came the rationale: I know it’s right. We’ve worked hard on our house, and I’m sure other owners will work hard on theirs. It’s what’s right for people.
Then came the finale: I’m troubled by my own reaction. I don’t know what it means, this affordable housing, but in the end maybe that’s not the relevant part. It won’t adjoin our property, it won’t really affect us. So how about supporting it and letting people come in?
And while I’m at it, accept that maybe not locking the doors wasn’t a brilliant scheme anyway.
-S.
Lots of people using these schemes are teachers, police, social workers who can’t afford to live in the areas they work so don’t worry, the neighbourhood may indeed become safer – well, full of professionals at least!
Abs x
Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’re hard wired, as human beings, to be territorial and protective of what is ours. Certainly we’ve (well, some of us – not entirely sure about myself) evolved to the point where we can consider the “Greater Good” rather than our own interests. (If not, I’m pretty sure a whole bunch of European men wasted a LOT of time in the 1800-1900s – we generally call them philosophers)
I hope that what you’ll be getting are homes that are accessible to families. I hope your town planners are interested in building community as well as generating tax revenue. And you should always lock your doors anyway. And carry a house key.
Oh, your post gave me a chuckle. I can totally hear you. You want to know what happens here? A little thing called squatter camps. Overnight your local field/farmland/bit of wetland whatnot can suddenly become home to a settlement of people who look around at your safe neighborhood and go, “Mmm, this is a nice place to put up a shack, I think I’ll stay.” and then they start rigging up their corrugated iron structures within the hour. Pretty soon the crime has increased, there are cows grazing on the verge, and the curl of smoke from cooking fires gives you that wonderful view of the classic African sunset (you know the red one in all the tourist brochures). Okay, I’m exaggerating just a scoche. But it *does* happen. The law states that unless alternative accommodation can be found for the squatters and they are removed within 24 hrs…then guess what? THEY HAVE THE RIGHT TO STAY. If you are unfortunate enough to live in an area where this has happened then by now, they are clamoring for free electricity, free running water, demanding the installation of flushing loos and protesting day and night until they get it. Unhappy with the idea of paying for it, they choose rather to spend their meagre earnings on the latest cell phone technology, or Nike trainers or both.
My feeling on both this and your situation? YOU have JUST as much right to YOUR WAY OF LIFE. You’ve worked for it, saved for it, been sensible with your money, and then the government thinks they can just do what they want. Well hello democracy this AINT how this works. Socialism is all fine and dandy when it comes to dealing with funding for education and healthcare etc, but when it starts messin’ with your hard earned capitalist lifestyle then I say, NIMBY AHOY and don’t let them get away with it.
Names are one of my favorite hobby (I have issues) and now I REALLY want to know what your daughter’s REAL name is! (And your son for that matter). Although, I’m honestly not asking, just telling you that now I’m curious. ;)
I understand about your NIMBY situation perfectly. I’m also a huge NIMBY apparently. :(
Ah, babe-its normal to feel that way. Frustrating, but perfectly normal. You should see me talk about the death penalty. My head splits in two, then explodes.
Its a bitch having a conscience.
Oh, and the name thing? When I was pregnant, we were going to name the baby, if a girl, Olivia. I have loved that name since I was a child. Then there was an Olivia explosion in our area during the last month of so of my pregnancy. I shit you not, no less then 3 women in my birthing class were naming their daughters that. I was crushed.
Then one afternoon, a long forgotten but much loved Elvis Costello song came on the car radio.
So we named our daughter Veronica instead.
I guarantee you, your children will be better off for having been exposed to people (friends even) with a variety of socio-economic backgrounds… You don’t want Boden Camping to be all they know! So if it goes through, I think you should go the other direction and organize the welcome wagon. Welcome them, start up a veggie share, make playdates with your kids.
Congratulations on recognizing (instead of rationalizing) your own hypocrisy here. Most of us don’t! And I wish you luck with your new neighbors.
Do what you’re most comfortable with – I’m as ist as they come, but after some state-school disasters am paying prep-school fees…
We have ‘affordable’ housing backing onto us, apart from the occasional screaming match at 2.00am it’s fine, your house is gorgeous and yours – don’t be panicked into leaving it by the Daily Mail tendency.
And the Boden campers? If they were that up-market, they’d be staying in the family hotels (like the Seaview, instead of using a tent. They are all thinking the same as you, and shopping at the Boden sale, too (like us).
And the name thing? Smallest is Eleanor – no-one used that name any more… except that everywhere she goes, she collects at least one friend also called Eleanor who is exactly the same age as her. Heigh-ho.
Woooo, tough one. I can definitely understand your conflicting emotions, especially since you’ve put your heart and soul into that house. The housing situation seems like an unsolvable problem in England, and that’s a shame, because it’s such a wonderful place to live. Once my husband and I had our twins we had to pretty much rule out ever moving back, for the simple fact that we could never afford to buy a house.
I live (alone) in the country and never used to lock my doors. Just started locking them recently. Not sure why…
I haven’t even finished reading the post because I’m so excited to read that you like etymology. When you have reading time, try Language Visible by David Sacks. It’s about the history and development of the alphabet. As in, a capital A is in fact an inverted picture of an ox (seriously, look at it – it really is!), which was how you measured wealth when they were inventing letters, so A is a good thing, because it could mean you have an ox. I’m serious. It’s incredible. It won’t change your life, but it will change how you see the alphabet, and who doesn’t take the alphabet a little bit for granted?
OK, now to read the rest of the post.
OK, now I’ve read the rest of the post. I, too, paid an astronomical amount for my NorCal home, and am dealing with the fallout from the crash and fighting the war between the person who wants everyone to have homes vs. the person who wants my imaginary children to grow up in a neighborhood where property taxes are high enough for the per-pupil-expenditure in the local public schools to be sufficient to purchase the paper my kids will presumably need to get an education (if there is still paper around by the time I have said imaginary children), because I am just wealthy enough to have bought a house but not wealthy enough to send my imaginary children to private school. It’s frustrating. The bottom line is that I can’t afford to sell my house in this economy, so whatever happens will happen and the way I see it, no matter what, either my snobby side or my socialist side will come out the winner, so at least part of me will be happy no matter what.
Whew!
Also, my name is Ruth. There’s something to be said for growing up with a popular name (in my day, it would have been Rachel), and the thing to be said is that if you have a popular name, you get a lot less of the following comments:
1. Is that short for something?
2. Like in the Bible?
3. Baby…. Ruth? (Think Goonies)
and finally, my favorite #4: Ruth…. my grandma was named Ruth! But she’s dead now!
Love the way you think, and whatever happens, hope it turns out for the best for you and all the neighbors.
We used to think affordable housing was a good idea until they built units in our neighborhood. Now we have numerous unsupervised children in the area, a graffiti and theft problem, and numerous police calls. Daily. The problem seems to be that the people living in the houses don’t care about the houses as they don’t own them and have no repercussions if the place is destroyed. and I’m amazed how many of these subsidized homes next to me have satellite dishes and cars newer than mine.
Are these houses to purchase at a subsidized price? or rent? You could expect a difference there in people’s behavior regardless if it was subsidized or not. Is it 9 single family homes or is is 9 multi family units? 9 families doesn’t seem like so much… but we all get comfortable with how things are now – I mean, that’s why you moved to your town, right? Change is hard.
We have some big open spaces in two directions as you come into our neighborhood. My husband constantly worries about them being developed at all. We love it just how it is. The idea of seeing any kind of houses on them turns our stomach,but we live in a county desperate for affordable housing choices and the same economic realities as you state. I hope you keep us updated on developments with the proposal. This will certainly be a challenge for the neighborhood.
I come at the housing thing from the other side. I’m in my mid twenties, have absolutely no savings to speak of due to an expensive education (which I am proud to say I didn’t take a government loan for) and generally not having the best paid jobs in the world. My blokey and I have been discussing moving house and our only real option is renting – which we are going to do, and it’s the most gorgeous cottage in the world and I’m so so happy!
However, we did look in to the affordable housing scheme. Hell, I have enough common sense to try and take something back out of all the taxes we have to pay. The one thing we kept coming up against was this, the schemes round here would NOT accept you if you or any member of your family were currently on benefits. Admittedly you had to earn below a certain wage band to qualify but in the current economic situation it’s not really hard. That was on both and intermediate rent to buy scheme as well as a part rent part buy. I can’t speak for the houses that are being built buy you but I thought you mght like to know that.
Not all the people going for these houses will be layabout graffiti types, some will be genuinely lovely people who just can’t afford to go anywhere else. They may even make you cake…
Rant over :)
First off – I have always had a fascination with language, with etymology, with linguistics, and with the power behind certain words. You are in good company, in my world. I actually have some books/reading/crap to recommend on the awesomeness of etymology of African languages. Must email you: the note is made mentally.
Second, I recently went hunting for my first post-college, not-to-be-paid-for-with-parental-support living situation, and being the stubborn lunatic I am, I decided, why not live in a socioeconomically, ethnically diverse neighborhood if I can afford it. Which is all well and good, just not in places where the murder rate is 700% the national average. I wanted so badly to prove I was okay with it, that I sat at a bus stop, the only white person in sight, trying to not stick out like the suburban sore thumb I was/am, for a half an hour. Racial differences are only social perceptions, I told myself. Which they are. Unfortunately, I can’t keep myself from facing the fact that, especially in major cities, minority concentration tends to equal less wealth and more crime. Which is borne out of circumstance, and has nothing to do with skin color (yes! we really are all the same, except some of us have been dealt the really short, dirty, pointy end of the stick!). And walking home alone at night would be a real problem in a bad neighborhood.
And so I feel really, really guilty and and live in a suburb, in a complex with a pool, across from a Trader Joe’s and a Target.
Which is to say that, as PC as we want to be, and big-hearted as we are inside, sometimes we’re hypocrites. Not because we’re bad people, but because there is an element of self-preservation and selfishness that we can’t escape. I probably sound like a brat. I probably am. But I really do recognize that at least I wish it weren’t a choice I had to make, and yes, please take taxes my minimum wage job slinging coffee to people with lots more money because there’s a lot of people who work a lot harder and make a lot less.
Oh, and my dad’s name is Henry, and is from a dirt-poor Irish-Catholic family in Alabama. And is one step above a guy named Cletis sitting on his front porch in a rocker with a shotgun to ward off the racoons, as far as posh goes.
Oh … I love names too. I grew up with a name that was REALLY frustrating to have; it’s Welsh and though it’s totally phonetic, Americans can’t help but want to put stress on one of the syllables, or pronounce a vowel differently the second time. DESPITE this, I find that the names I like are usually either Welsh (like Morwenna), Gaelic (like Fianna), or otherwise suitably obscure (like the Cornish name Kerensa). I like to think that at least they’re pronounceable …
But anyway, I feel you on the nimby thing. I haven’t had a vehement reaction like that, but then, we live in a suburb so ehh. I get it a lot more about military bases etc. *shrug*
I always find it interesting when I run up against hypocrisy in myself – I tend to spend an awful lot of time working out WHY I feel the way I do, when I *technically* shouldn’t.
The Golden Rule (which is a direct quote from Jesus :) says “So in everything do to others as you would have them do to you.” This is far easier on the playground when you need to share a swing than in a neighborhood when talking about tens of thousands of dollars in property value and daily safety (to name a few). But they’re still words to live by.
Jenni could be onto something. Some of your future best friends might move into one of those houses.
Good luck (sincerely) eradicating the hypocrite within…we all have some hypocrisy that needs outing.