Disclaimer: I recognize my privilege as a white woman who grew up middle class and it is not my intention to diminish anyone’s experience with poverty or homelessness. This article isn’t meant to judge or stereotype anybody’s financial situation.
As a kid, I always wanted a doorbell and a staircase. Following my parent’s divorce at age 8, I lived in apartments. I missed the feeling of running down the stairs on Christmas morning to see the Christmas tree or running towards the door when the pizza delivery man rang the doorbell. My mom and I would watch “Property Brothers” and talk about all the different ways we could decorate our future house–I dreamed about the day when I would have my own room. I didn’t grow up poor, but I didn’t grow up with lots of money, either. There was always food on the table, but it was at the expense of my mom having to work three jobs. We always had school supplies, new clothes or shoes when we needed them, or money to spend at the mall with our friends. But we never went on extravagant vacations outside of the country or to Disneyland like other kids my age. However, I didn’t think much about those experiences because other kids who lived in my city were in the same boat.
When I tell people I’m from Aurora, I usually get met with a disgusted or concerned “oh.” It wasn’t until I came to Boulder that I realized that Aurora has a stereotype of being a violent city. Aurora is the third largest city in Colorado with a population of 393,537. A city this large encompasses a variety of neighborhoods. Some areas are nicer, like Southlands or Pheasant Run which house higher-income families, but Aurora also includes lower-income neighborhoods, such as North Aurora. It borders Colfax and yields crime rates 381% higher than the national average. Despite this, it was a beautiful town to grow up in. I was constantly surrounded by different cultures and languages; white people make up just 50% of the population and more than 32% speak a language other than English in the home. Even though everyone around me was different, we all came from similar financial backgrounds. Many of my classmates were on free or reduced lunch and attended the YMCA after-school program because their parents were also working. When I became old enough to work, I was told, “If you want it, get a job and buy it yourself.” I got my first job at 15 as a lifeguard at my local pool and have had a job consistently since then. I paid for a trip to Alaska by myself and bought most of the things I wanted (usually food). It was during this time that I learned the meaning of hard work, the importance of managing your finances, and most of all, how to be independent and self-reliant.
When I got to high school, I became a part of College Track, a program that helps low-income and first-generation students get into college. There, I learned what a financial privilege a college education is. Although both my parents received master’s degrees, it came at the expense of student loan debt, which meant that my parents didn’t have the financial means to pay for my college. My peers in this program were also receiving little to no tuition aid from their parents and relied heavily on extracurriculars and scholarships to fund their college careers. I wouldn’t be in college today if it wasn’t for this program; they waived my college application fees, gave me free SAT tutoring, assisted in my scholarship search and gave me money to be able to attend the school I wanted.
When I came to CU Boulder, I was already aware of some stereotypes. I knew it was a PWI (predominantly white institution) and that many students would be upper class. These stereotypes aren’t too far from the truth, with white students making up 65.2% of the population at CU and 84.3% of the city of Boulder. The median family income of one student is $133,700. I’m at an institution where I look like almost everyone, but I feel like an outsider. Whenever the conversation about tuition came up, it was difficult to hear peers say that their parents paid for the tuition and rent after I had just had a breakdown about my overwhelming student debt. I struggled to find friends who could relate to my financial situation or understand the stress of having to work a part-time job while being a full-time student. There were little differences in income I began to notice–I’d never been skiing because we could never afford it (my family also had no desire to) but everyone else seemed to be frequent skiers. I began to feel insecure about the fact that I didn’t have a Mac, or a car, or that I couldn’t eat out as often as everyone else. I tried to hide my financial struggles and the jealousy that came with feeling like an outsider. It wasn’t until this summer that my perspective began to change. For the first time in my life, I had to work a consistent 40-hour week in order to make rent, buy groceries, and tackle credit card debt. It was the first time in my life that finances kept me awake at night and felt like a looming dark cloud over my head.
Our society has a strange relationship with money. We love to talk and flaunt money when we have it, but get uncomfortable talking about debt, student loans, the cost of living, or homelessness. There’s a sense of shame attached to money, especially when you’re struggling with debt. When I had to confront my own debt and mistakes with money, I realized how important it is that we talk about our financial struggles with compassion, grace, and most importantly: without judgment. I began to learn how to say “I can’t afford that right now” and be vulnerable about my experiences with money. Instead of feeling like an outsider, I developed a sense of pride. I didn’t have parents who could pay my entire tuition, but that meant that my hard work paid for it. Everything I own (mostly), my hard work paid for. It made me appreciate my parents more for raising me to be diligent and determined. It made me love Boulder because I’m able to challenge the cynical judgment I carry and release my insecurities. Most of all, it made me love and appreciate Aurora for its diversity, sense of community, and feeling of belonging.
If you struggle with food or housing insecurity, here’s a list of local resources:
CU’s housing resources for low-income students.