Everyone gets rather uptight when a black woman pulls out the “S” word. It runs through everyone’s mind that, she’s playing the race card, or she’s leaning on history to justify the flaws of those people who refuse to let go the shackles, or she wants reparations, or she wants to blame someone. Everyone rolls their eyes and thinks, Ugh another angry black woman.
Well I am a black woman and I am angry as hell, and I am going to use the S word, because the Middle Class are the new slaves. Yes be we black, white, pink, purple, blue, orange, or plaid torso with polka dot legs. We, my friends are the new pillars on which the economies are built.
How did I get here to this dark place? Well thanks to a hacker who thinks it’s funny to use my salary to support his/her gaming habit. Yes thanks to this immeasurable a$$hole, I had to go to the bank. Needless to say that in order to put this lazy a$$hat out of my life I had to go and do all the redtaping that comes along with trying to secure my finances. As a result I ended up in line to do my business.
Look familiar? More rather feel familiar? This is how I felt in that line, watching the tellers disappear after every other transaction, make us wait while they made pleasant conversation and work the cogs of the red-tape machine that is the financial system. A system that is so convoluted that its main purpose must be to make us so frustrated that we end up dissuaded from procuring our own money. Our hard earned dollars that we work for.
I know that after a while I started to scare people, waiting in the line, paralyzed by my the need to scream:
“Hurry up” or “Shut up” or “what the hell people?” or some other vile things that word press will probably ban me for saying.
Because standing there, among my people,the other teachers, and tradesmen, and hotel workers, etc. I realized this must be the scene all over the world, millions of us, filling these people’s coffers for less than nothing in the way of interest, while they look down on us and penalize us, and use us without mercy. Making way for the big wigs and fat cats called bank managers. Who bask in the fruits of the investments they make using our income which we are forced to entrust to them, in hopes of one day being granted the privilege to borrow some of it, and spend our lives paying them interest on what they have made out of our very pockets.
Now my friends if that’s not slavery in the most demeaning sense of the word, I don’t know what is. That word isn’t just for the former plight of my race, it’s the yoke on the shoulders of every middle class citizen the world over. And it’s high time we did something about it. I’m taking suggestions.