Something Old, Nothing New, Something Borrowed...

For my New Year's Resolution this year I have resolved to buying nothing new.  I tried this a few years ago when I was in Guatemala and my volunteer group was reading Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger: Moving from Affluence to Generosity.  In the book, author Ronald Sider said something like "I bet no one reading this book needs to buy new clothes for a year" and I thought "wow. yeah. I guess I don't."  I resolved then (it was November 2009) not to buy any new clothes for the rest of that year and 2010.  I did not do this 100%.  I still bought a few used clothes while in Guatemala, especially a few more sweaters and some clothing that was unique to Guatemala.  I also bought a few new things when I moved to Nashville and started an office job--black dress pants and a few other clothes for work.  But I largely stuck to it, and when I didn't I thought really long about what to buy.

This year, I am resolving to buy nothing new, excluding basic toiletries (I'm defining basic as I go along...haven't quite decided yet if makeup is "basic").  I am also allowing myself to buy new books that I need for school if I can't find them used.  The point, really, besides being on a graduate school budget in New York City, is to be more conscious of what I buy and how I spend and think about money and posessions.  I know I also want to eat out less, drink less, etc. but one thing at a time. Not buying anything new for a year seems like a do-able but big enough undertaking for now.

So here are my "rules" (recognizing that for me, not being a perfectionist and not being bound by rules is a spiritual practice, so maybe I should call them "guidelines"):

• Don't buy anything new except for basic toiletries and medicine
• If you really need something find it used or, better yet, borrow it
• Be reasonable
• When buying gifts for other people, try to buy something made locally and by an individual or small-scale company

I realize that setting this goal for myself is a reflection of the immense wealth and privilege that I have.  I hope that this New Year's resolution will help me to be grateful for that wealth and privilege and also help me learn that it is not of ultimate importance, that this will help me relax my death grip on my wealth and privilege so that I may try to live from a place of generosity and gratitude and in a way that in some small way claims that the consumeristic, materialistic, capitalist way of life is not essential or ultimate.  The danger in these endeavors is always self-satisfaction and self-righteousness without real change.  I know that my small protest of a New Year's Resolution will change nothing large-scale and that it cannot be all I do.  But it is one thing I can do this year (among others) that I hope will help me adopt a posture that will better enable me to participate in larger protests and challenges to an unjust and unsustainable way of life.

Romanticizing Poverty

In the month of February I challenged myself not to buy any groceries and just to use what I had at home to make my meals, and it went pretty well (see blog entry "Budgeting"). I challenged myself partly to be able to save some money for a month, partly to try and give myself a culinary challenge that would force me to be more creative and eat a little more sustainably. The other part of this challenge was to live the way many of my neighbors live, since many people--even in Nashville--live in food deserts where there are no grocery stores and so they cannot just run to Kroger when an ingredient is missing, or who don't have enough money at some points in the month to have the luxury of eating what their mood dictates.

Everything went well. I did go home at one point and my mom sent me back with some home-made lasagne and a bag full of groceries, so that helped, and I did decide to make a black bean soup and went to the market down the street and bought some celery and bell peppers to add to that. I also went out to eat several times with people from work, other friends, or fast food while I was traveling a couple of days near the end of the month. I realize that eating out is a luxury and a huge expense, so I try only to eat out when I'm with other people and not just because I'm too tired to cook.

I realize, though, that I need to be careful not to idealize or romanticize poverty and the situation that many people live in daily and weekly that is not a personal challenge, but a necessity for survival in a condition of "not enough." I am afraid that it is often too easy for me and others in similar economic situations (probably with similar political and world views) to say that our lives would just be so much better if we had less money. Or maybe we don't say that so much as we think that people who have less money are happier and more in touch with what is really important in life. This is possibly true, but it also ignores the emotional and physical stress of worrying about food, money, housing, and employment.

In a discussion about the book Nickel and Dimed recently, our YAV group was asked if we had ever experienced anything like the need that Barbara Ehrenreich describes in her book. Granted, I do not know the situations from which everyone comes, but it felt a little bit ridiculous for the 7 of us, who have enough resources and support both to fund-raise for the YAV year and to be able to not really make money for a year, to be having this discussion. Because even when people like us--young people who are in grad school or volunteer programs or entry level jobs with not much savings but with parents and families and networks--talk about not having, it feels cheap. Because even when my checking account is low, if something terrible happened, I know that I have the network of my family and community to support me both financially and emotionally.

And I think that is often the difference between me and many people I pass on the street in downtown Nashville. I have a financial and emotional safety net in my community, I have a college education, and I have not up to this point in my life had any struggles with mental illness or addiction of my own or any close family members. And that, more than my actual bank account, is what defines me as solidly upper-middle-class and in no real danger any time soon of being anything else.

Budgeting

In the interest of full-disclosure, we Nashville YAVs get a monthly stipend of $400. Our housing, utilities, all that is provided. So the only things we really have to buy are gas and groceries. So $400 is really a lot, and more, I think, than any other national YAV site gets. True, if we were hanging out with people who made a lot more, $400 would not seem like much, and it's not like we can go out on shopping trips and go for nice weekend getaways, but since we're all on the same budget, and we do have some play money, our YAV lives are pretty cushy.

In some ways, then, the Nashville site has made it more difficult to hold on to some of those simpler living habits I adopted in Guatemala and really wanted to hold on to when I returned to the US. Sadly, it has been much easier than I thought to get sucked back into the materialism and consumerism that is all around. I have to admit that I have a thing for clothes and shoes. My tastes aren't fancy, but I'm not really a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, either, and I find myself wanting a new pair of shoes or a new dress that I don't need. The thing about the $400 stipend is that I can afford these things every once in a while, and that's ok, but the danger is when I begin to start thinking I need or deserve that new pair of shoes or that new dress.

I also spend a lot of money on food. We don't go out to fancy restaurants, but $8-12 meals a few times a month does add up. I also just like good food. I love sweets and desserts, but I also really like healthy foods, and produce is way more expensive than processed food, although I don't really feel guilty about buying healthy food that I cook at home (as long as it's relatively local and in season). However, as I was looking at my pantry recently, I realized I stockpile food. I have a half of a bag of black beans that I've had since September and a bag of lentils I've had for about a month, as well as rice, peanut butter, some almonds and pecans, oats, cheese etc. I have plenty of food.

So this month I am challenging myself to not buy any groceries. I can eat free meals (like at church or other activities where meals are provided), and we buy groceries for our community night dinners once a week as well as a few communal groceries (milk, eggs, butter, spices, etc.) that I will continue to eat. But I'm trying to use things that I already have here and make meals using ingredients I already have. I haven't decided yet whether or not I am allowed to buy some produce (I haven't so far, but it's only day 6 and I did have some left from the end of last month). The goal, though, is to make do with what I've got and not start with one ingredient that I have and then run to the grocery store to buy five more things I need to actually make something with it.

So I won't eat black bean enchiladas since I don't have tortillas. Instead, I'll eat black beans and brown rice. I made a lentil casserole last Sunday that lasted me the whole week, eating it for one meal a day. I also have some frozen peas I've been eating for a week, and I'm planning on eating some other frozen veggies I have, maybe roasted with some spices we already have. I also have ingredients to make bread, and a curry rice dish with raisins and almonts and coconut milk.

I'm trying to live on half of my stipend, at least for this month (although before I start patting myself on the back too much, I did pick the shortest month to start this challenge :). But by doing this, I'm not only saving money to hopefully go toward a trip back to Guatemala in September, but I'm also challenging myself to remember that what I have is enough. More than enough, actually, and more than what a lot of people have.