Social Capital Is Part of Inequality, Too

Inequality is talked about a lot. Poverty is talked about a lot. In my work, poverty and its consequences are considered the “no duh” reason for a lot of children’s problems in school.

Parents who, to make ends meet, have to work more than one job, without a steady schedule, suffer all sorts of consequences. Maybe they can’t get childcare at the last minute, have to skip work, and lose their job. Maybe they don’t have time to fix a taillight, get pulled over, and are fined an amount they can’t afford to pay. A recent report described how this type of inequality–maybe we could call it unequal labor rights and privileges– doesn’t just stress out parents. Children in low-income families without regular schedules are stressed too.

Money–financial capital–comes up a lot whenever people talk about inequality, but there is another type of resource, social capital, that makes a huge difference. Social capital includes all the resources you have access to because of your social connections. The “Hey, I need a babysitter, can I drop my kids with you, Auntie?” and the “I have an extra X (crockpot, grill, bike, mattress–all things I have lent or borrowed at some point), do you want to use it?” Or the “Hey, I know a gal who knows a gal who can…(get you a job, review your resume, proofread your website for free).”

I recently met a woman–a longtime Buffalo resident–who, after we discussed real estate, got to talking about “poor people.” At first her comments bordered on insulting. Then, after she talked for awhile, she seemed to catch herself. Empathy seemed to come into the space.

She finally said, “I bet it’s really hard to be poor.”

“YES!” I thought. Poverty is hard, and part of why it’s hard is because it’s about more than money. But when it’s about community–social capital–that means we can solve it, as a community. I’d be lying if I said I knew exactly how, but I’m proud to live in a city that wants to try. I think it has something to do with social relationships.

Opportunity [to Smile and Say Hello] Pledge

For the last year or so, I’ve made an effort to smile and say hello to people in passing.  Before adopting this habit, I had this complicated conversation with myself whenever I approached someone on the sidewalk.

Will they say ‘hi’ back? Will they think I’m weird? Am I weird?

Then I decided, who cares? If one of my goals is to, on a daily basis, make the world a more friendly place, this is a low-cost way to do it.

At first–when the behavior was new–saying hello felt like a lot of effort. This is because I hadn’t done it before, and the awkward questions in my head still sounded. But now, saying hello feels almost automatic. Do I say hi every time I pass someone? No. Some people are on their phones or intently looking down at the sidewalk in a way that says clearly “don’t talk to me.” I skip them. But everyone else–whether they’re sitting or standing, passing me by or clear across the street–gets a hello.

I’ve found that most people say ‘hello’ back. When that happens, I feel good, and I feel a little less like an anonymous stranger passing another anonymous stranger. I feel like part of the community in a way that I didn’t, before this habit.

Today I heard Buffalo’s #1 community leader, Mayor Byron Brown, encourage the citizens of Buffalo to sign the “Opportunity Pledge.” (You can sign the pledge here.) This pledge means that the signer appreciates and respects diversity, and acknowledges that only through taking advantage of and celebrating our diversity can we become a prosperous, healthy, and dignified community.

I can get behind that. So, Buffalo, I pledge to take the opportunity to smile and say hello, as often as I can. Maybe I’ll make someone’s day–maybe that someone will be me.

Either way, the community wins. Because I am the community, and the community is me.

Sunken Cost and Coffee Shops

My new office isn’t ready yet.

So I decided to work at the library. But this morning when I arrived at 9:30, the library was closed, until noon. The rational thing to do would have been to turn around and walk back 2 blocks to the coffee shop I knew was open, I’d worked at before, and which is a pleasant place to work. But…

A sunken cost is the time, money, or other resources you have already invested in something, whether or not that something ends up working out. The 20 minutes I had already spent walking from our new apartment to the library were, for me, a sunken cost. And instead of turning around—which would have made me feel that those last 2 blocks were for naught—I kept going.

photo by C. E. Cameron

Given that I fell victim to the cognitive bias known as “sunken cost”…

I walked for another 20 minutes, expecting at every moment to see another coffee shop at the next block. I passed a coffee and tea supply store, and almost a dozen restaurants and cafes, which were, like the library, CLOSED. Finally I spotted a corner shop with COFFEE CULTURE in large letters. I felt vindicated. My walk—totaling 40 minutes, double my initial “investment” had paid off.

Then, as I approached the door, I squinted, hoping that the dark interior and white postings on the front door were simply part of the ambiance.

No chance. The white postings were eviction notices, dated more than a month ago.

 It took a while, but I finally did the rational thing:

I turned around, and went back to the original spot, Spot Coffee. Moral of the story? I’m not actually sure. If I were a rational economist, I’d say “should have turned around at the library.” But I’m in a new place, still getting to know the Elmwood Village. Maybe, like ants exploring for food, my additional walk would have revealed the perfect place to work. Maybe next time, it will. (Perhaps by now you’ve figured out I wasn’t using a SmartPhone). But maybe, like ants exploring for food, much of my time ended up wasted.

Oh well. Being rational isn’t one of my life goals anyway. Awareness and looking at the scenery is more my library-passing, coffee-shop seeking, stop-and-smell-the-flowers speed.

How To Talk About Things That Are Hard to Talk About

How to talk about the things that are most difficult? Choose one or more answers that apply.

A. Don’t. Keep it inside, and when a thought that pains or confuses you comes across your mind, wave it away like a fly.

B. Talk about it haphazardly. Talk about it when you don’t mean to, with people you don’t know or trust, and say things that you didn’t realize you thought, accidentally and without intention. Take the consequences and regret.

photo by C E Cameron

photo by C E Cameron

C. Talk about it awkwardly. Start to talk about it, then change your mind and see how the conversation partner responds. If they want to talk about the weather, sports, or a TV show, take it as a signal that they’re not ready, either. Talk about the weather, sports, or a TV show so neither of you has to act awkward in public. Or keep pushing until they hang up or become angry or stonewall. Feel sad that they won’t engage.

D. Talk about it thoughtfully. Mull your feelings over for a while first, write about it privately, decide how to open the topic and with whom you feel safe discussing it. Resolve not to become offended or hurt but to instead take new information in, like you’d feel a fabric before deciding to try it on. Feel grateful when the person(s) responds with thoughtfulness back, validating your feelings and telling you what they think. Feel more connected, trusting, and less alone.

There are so many topics that we would all like to pretend don’t hurt us. Catastrophic climate change, sexist family members, racism and police brutality, end of life decisions, second weddings, our personal writing. What are the consequences for not talking? Are they worse than trying B-D and going from there?