Opinion
Obituaries for the American Dream
Nov. 1,
2020, 1:14 a.m. ET
We’ve been
talking about “the American dream” since James Truslow Adams coined the phrase
in his 1931 book, “The Epic of America.” But what’s a dream anyway? A brimming
over of the day’s repressed desires? Just a flutter of the neurons? If the
American dream was ever real, it isn’t now.
Lizania
Cruz, a Dominican artist and curator, has been asking people to write
obituaries for the American dream. When and how, she asks, did the American
dream die for you? It died, they said, “when I became aware of the fact that my
family was considered ‘illegal’”; “when I realized that after working 50 hours
a week I was not able to save”; “when I realized just how many of my fellow
Americans valued selfishness over community, power over justice, prejudice over
fairness, greed over generosity, demagogy over science.”
We invited
our readers to respond to the same question. More of this project can be found
here. It was commissioned by El Museo del Barrio for “Estamos Bien: La Trienal
20/21,” a survey of Latinx contemporary art.
How Did the
American Dream Die For You?
LIANNA
EVANS CLOVIS, CALIF.
Born in
1978 I grew up in poverty. I graduated high school at 15, had a child at 16 and
went to college when I was 21. I’ve worked for state and federal government for
almost 20 years and have too little to show for it. Without family support I
took out student loans that have crippled me ever since. No assets, less than
$60k in retirement, five kids, and a doctoral degree that pays less than an RN.
How is my dream even a dream at this point? It’s only a wish. …
KAREN
KIMMERLY WILLIAMSBURG, OHIO
When the
auto plant where both I and my husband worked closed in 2008.
He was able
to move to another plant; I regret to say that I took a buyout to go back to
school. Now, multiple degrees later, I earn less than half of what I did as a
skilled trades person with a good union job. I have a master’s degree and I
love my job as a public librarian, but if anything happened to my husband I
would be unable to support myself.
FRANKLIN
PEÑA BRONX, N.Y.
The first
day I landed in Los Angeles. I realized the concepts of inclusion and
progression didn’t have me or my people in mind. I realized my community is
expected to work for others but never develop sustainability outside the realm
of manual labor. It was the day my soul split in two. My disappointment and
ambitions exist within my pursuit of happiness. My American dream died, but not
my desire to be great.
JUSTIN IOWA
When I saw
the wage breakout for my company.
My boss
made $400k while the average worker made $35k. The death, though, was the year
he decided not to award raises or bonuses to anyone but himself. He took the
entire $300k pool of money that should have been divided between the employees,
and then told everyone the company was struggling.
KIMBERLEY
BERRY DENVER
The day I
realized that now matter how hard I work, or how smart and educated I am, as a
Black woman in America I will always be perceived as invisible.
REBECCA
MIRALRIO NEW YORK, N.Y.
When I
became aware of the fact that my family was considered “illegal.”
My
childhood consisted of me fearing “la migra” and having terrible anxiety over
the fact that I could someday be separated from my parents and siblings.
RAQUEL
CICERO, ILL.
My American
dream was that one day females will feel confident enough to walk the streets
wearing whatever they feel like it without having to look over their shoulder
every few seconds because they feel unsafe. This dream died a long time ago
because I realized that no matter what you wear you will always be objectified.
ANJELIC E.
OWENS BROOKLYN, N.Y.
Growing up
in a low-income household I took pride in stretching a dollar. I grew used to
thrifted clothes (before they were cool) and discount grocery stores. My parents
put so much weight on my education, as if my grades could save me from the
systemic racism I would face. My awareness of my class was heightened once I
moved to New York for grad school. I got caught in the never-ending cycle of
working to afford my materials to make my art while not having the time to make
my art because of work.
JIM HARPER
GAINESVILLE, FLA.
My
dreamscape is dying. Growing up in South Florida, I had the privilege of
breathing salty air and visiting the Florida Keys, where I first saw a coral
reef. The ocean was an endless source of inspiration, and I thought it could
never be altered fundamentally. Then around 2005 I learned about how the water
is becoming more acidic, the corals are slowly burning to death, and people are
to blame. A dying planet kills all dreams.
MICHAEL
MAZZARIELLO NEWBURGH, N.Y.
When we
realized that my wife and I would not be able to pay our property and school
taxes when we retire.
We both
work hard, we pay our taxes, we live modestly, and New York State is forcing us
to sell our home because of high taxes. We both grew up seeking the American
dream and now it has turned into a nightmare. We love our home. Our children
grew up here. We worked on the property to make it nice and livable and don’t
want to sell. But, we will be forced to sell.
CHRISTIAN
MARTIR BRONX, N.Y.
The day I
was born, in [Puerto Rico,] an American colony.
ZAHIRA
SHAALAN PHILADELPHIA
The
American dream died for me the day I entered kindergarten. Before that, I was
an incredibly bright child, self-assured and besotted with learning. In this
environment, I learned how inequality is transmitted from one generation to the
next. I was “taught” that my existence was problematic. I was labeled
unintelligent, inferior, less, terms all interchangeable with Black, brown and
female. I emerged with some aspect of myself intact, albeit cast into a woke
state of American dreamlessness.
PAUL RAVI
NAIR NEW YORK, N.Y.
In many
ways, I am the American dream. The multiracial son of a South Asian immigrant
and a white Southerner, I’ve made it from childhood in a lower-income apartment
complex to a flourishing career and spacious apartment in Manhattan. But the
satisfaction of that has been crushed these past four years — and especially
this year. The willful ignorance and persistent racism of a large swath of my
countrymen have destroyed any appreciation for this country. My goal is to
emigrate in my near future.
JOHN
CHRISTMAN LANCASTER COUNTY, PA.
When I
realized I was a gay man and that my country treated me as a second-class
citizen.
It was
illegal for me to marry, have a family, or to have any expectation of being
accepted by society. In some places I could even be arrested. Thankfully some
great strides have been made since my childhood, but the scars remain. In many
ways I will always feel like an outcast, or “less than.”
LEW ALLISON
SOUTH LAKE TAHOE, CALIF.
I am white,
awakening from my American dream. My childhood and teens seem a fantasy, each
year starting in autumn at excellent schools and concluding with bright days of
summer at the beach. A public university prepared me for a profession that
turned away all who did not look like me. I stirred in 1968 and 1994, and
opened my eyes in 2020 and wept in anger.
MARSHA
MCDONALD MILWAUKEE
The
American dream died for me when I realized just how many of my fellow Americans
valued selfishness over community, power over justice, prejudice over fairness,
greed over generosity, demagogy over science. For me, the 2020 pandemic is very
real, but also a metaphor. How sick our national soul is! The old dream should
pass away. Isn’t it time for us to dream new dreams, better dreams, that
include us all?
KAT CADE
CLEVELAND
When I
realized that as a woman I will never be considered a person by the majority of
men.
The
American dream doesn’t exist for anyone who isn’t white and male. It died when
I realized I’d always have to work three jobs to make ends meet. It dies every
time some MAN introduces legislation to strip bodily autonomy away from
everyone who isn’t a MAN. It died when I realized that as a woman I will never
be considered a person by the majority of men. It dies with the planet, which
has been brutalized in the name of capital. The American dream is a fantasy.
SAMANTHA S.
EASTER SALT LAKE CITY
I worked at
Denny’s when I was 14 and was close to a server in her 40s. Tammy was in
nursing school in between serving shifts, and she easily worked 50 hours a
week. She was celebrating during one of my shifts because the manager let her
park her car overnight in the parking lot. This was cause for celebration
because she lived in her car and would now be close to a bathroom and lights.
Her medications and schooling ate her paycheck, and she was homeless. That was
when my American dream died.
BILL
STODDART MONTANA
The
American dream died for me when I realized our allegiance to the myth of rugged
individualism has completely overwhelmed our willingness and ability to lift
others up. It seems we have decided there is only so much pie available, so we
better get what we can without realizing that in buying into a zero sum game,
we have made a bargain that not only limits our own ability to thrive but
prevents others from doing so as well.
PHILIP
HERTER NEW YORK CITY
When I saw
the president of the United States mock a disabled person
I saw the
president of my country make fun of my infant daughter who had only recently
suffered a stroke. I saw how hard her future would be, thanks to the president
of my country.
DON SHERMAN
DAVIS, CALIF.
I was born
in the U.S., in 1934. My childhood was heavily influenced by WWII and the
unique experiences of growing up on the “home front.” My upper-middle-class
family sent me and my siblings to quality colleges of our choice. I experienced
the sexual revolution, the civil rights movement, Kennedy and King murders,
Vietnam, Nixon, Cheney. Trump is a kick in the head and a punch to my gut. I am
deeply saddened, disappointed, and frightened to learn that 40 percent of my
fellow Americans approve of his presidency.
LIAM
CASTEEL LAS VEGAS
When I
became a teacher
I knew that
I was entering a challenging and unappreciated profession, but I never realized
how much. I teach social studies and have two master’s degrees, while my
husband and I live with my parents to save on costs. The American dream died as
I realized that, with all of the privilege I’ve had and work I’ve put in, there
was no value in passing on my education to the next generation, who desperately
will need intellectual strength.
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