Class Matters: How We First Learn About Class

“I have never been able to identify or understand my class.”

My Years As A Kleptomaniac

1984. My breath catches in my throat as my fingers curl around the smooth porcelain bowl.

When Paradise Is Home

$10 would get us a plate lunch with meat, mac salad, and rice, everything we needed to keep us going. At night, my friends and I would walk up and down Waikiki strip, pretending to be tourists and laughing as we were catcalled roaming the shopping malls.

Losing the Familiarity of What We Used to Call Home

In 2011, when I arrive at my parents’ house in Pittsburgh for the last time before they move across the country, I find wardrobe boxes in my old bedroom. In the kitchen, new appliances (toaster, faucet) have appeared, and the second floor bathrooms—tiny sinks; fifties tile—long ago merged into one spacious room, whose shower doesn’t take a year to heat up in winter. It’s as though the house knows my parents are leaving, and is shedding evidence of their presence plate by plate, wall-hanging by wall-hanging.

Holiday Excess

In an essay that you’ve probably already read, this is where the writer segues into the costs of buying gifts, of the debt that accumulates at this time of year. In that essay, the writer details the fact that American retailers depend on the holiday season to turn enough of a profit for the year.

This is not that essay.