Substack Live

Last week my friend Carlos organized an event called, “Substack Live,” and he invited me and fellow friend and Substack(er)

Carrie Etzel

to share a selection of our essays with those in attendance. We each got to share two essays, taking turns, and answering questions after each one.

For my part, I chose as my first essay, “Letter to My White Son.” This essay, currently available for paid subscribers only (consider supporting my work), is a letter where I explain to my half-Cuban, half-white son, what it’s like living as a brown man in the United States, particularly during this moment in time. Even though Oliver is half-Cuban, he doesn’t look it. To the world, and more importantly to the United States immigration enforcement officers, he is white. My essay deals with the bittersweet reality of this dichotomy; me wishing that he looked more “Cuban,” while at the same time thankful that his “whiteness” is his shield.

This was more poignant due to the fact that my son (and two daughters) were also in the audience. I’m not sure that they “got” all that I talked about in that piece, but I wanted them to see me sharing my art and learning more about their father. I wanted them to see that pursuing art, in whatever form, is noble and beautiful.

In the act. Photo by Jackie.

As Carrie was finishing her first essay and taking questions, I was torn deciding on what essay to read for my final one. I had printed four in total, knowing that it was more than likely that I would only read two, but hadn’t really made up my mind on what I should end with. I was hoping that maybe I would “feel” intuitively what my audience would need. After whispering to Jackie and asking her opinion if I should go with my gut feeling, I went ahead and read my essay titled, $57.

This particular essay deals with the reality of working hard, doing everything you can to get ahead, and still be poor. It spoked to the quiet shame many of us struggle with. To the outside world, it looks like we have it all together, when in reality, we’re always stressed out, thinking about how to pay our bills, and how to feed our families. Many in the audience related to that essay. An audience member bravely shared her story of often going with an empty bank account, despite her and her husband working all the time. At the end of my talk, another woman came up to me and shared how much that essay meant to her, and how she realized that she wasn’t alone. She again, mentioned the shame that accompanies the working class poor in the richest nation in the world.

Shame is the monster that isolates you from others, when we could all be working together in community. That’s why I write about the topic of poverty so often, because I know that I’m not the only one that deals with this issue. I think it’s important to talk about those difficult subjects and confront them. Poverty is so common that we should be having these conversations in order to find ways to help each other. I’m tired of feeding the monster.

The event was a success. There was an intimacy and sense of belonging that permeated every corner of the room. Carrie’s essays were beautiful and challenging as well, and I hope she also writes a recap from her perspective.

I hope do more of these types of events in the near future. This was the first time that I actually read my work out loud in front of a public audience and it was a wonderful experience. To see others truly connect with something I wrote and to see how it impacted their lives was truly a special feeling.

Thanks for reading. Below are a few more essays dealing with the issue of poverty and shame.

Related Essays

The Quiet Shame of Struggling in Silence

$7 and the Working Poor

The Shame of Poverty

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