Dear Mitt,
I am one of the “lesser half.” Let’s face it, that’s what
you mean by 47 percent, isn’t it? Not quite half of the country. The lesser of
a bisection? I’m there. I want you to know you are absolutely right. I do feel
entitled! I know, I’m supposed to hide behind pretty words, but let’s get to
the nitty-gritty, shall we? I AM entitled to food, shelter, and basic
health-care. I am not entitled to these things because I am a victim (maybe
that’s what got you in trouble?), but because I am HUMAN.
I know it’s a lot to ask, and I’m sure I don’t make enough
to buy the off-the-shelf version, much less have it tailored for me, but I was
raised to know that human dignity is my birthright. My birthright comes with
the understanding that I can only be part of this culture that claims to value
each individual merely for his or her being and not skin color, religion, or
even income, if I make it mine. I must pay in it to own it. I have been, since
I was 14 and was allowed to work. Before that age I helped wrap Penny Savers in
the living room of our falling down house in the “barrio” part of Sunnyslope, a
neighborhood in Phoenix, Az. I was 18 before I knew my parents went hungry so I
could eat. I was raised believing I would grow to be better and better off than
those on whose shoulders I stand. My family was one that valued education above
all else. Education was the metaphoric bootstrap that lifted my family into the
lower middle class.
My parents believe fox and news go in the same sentence, but
I always found that an oddity. Now, thanks to you, I understand. See, you count
on people like my parents who have pride in their hard work, who at 67 are not
looking at retirement because they need food and shelter and all those basic
rights of healthy living that keep our collective society from paying for them
through backdoor handouts and indigent care. You say you don’t need to worry
about the 47 percent, but the sad truth is your statement will spur some of
them to vote for you, because they know deep down you can’t have meant them.
They know they do not see themselves as victims. They have not been
irresponsible. They have not assumed they were owed anything. But there they
are. Accepting social security and medicare and working besides to make ends
look at each other from across the room—and occasionally meet, even. My parents
are wealthy by the standard they lived when they had four young kids at home.
They now have space to spread their legs at the end of a long day on their
feet. They can kick back in their fully paid for sofa and watch you talk on Fox
news about all those reprehensible souls who would wish us into caring about
the lesser half.
For your next attack, I suggest you mention that the lesser
half of this country procreates far too much. It is, after all, a standard
argument of the right that “those people” have too many kids, that they have
them only in order to stay on welfare, that having a family is irresponsible. But,
I know you can’t do that. Yours is also the party that condemns any attempt to
help poor and middle class women gain access to health care and birth control. I
know that your party is far too busy attempting to legislate my use of my
vagina to notice I exist (except when I have the gall to use the word vagina,
or to expect that you stay out of its business). I know you don’t have to worry
about me! I am of the lesser half: Both ways! But you do worry about me, Mitt.
Your people keep calling. See, I’m a swing voter in a swing state, and that
makes me dangerous, because I am of the lesser half. I am that most dangerous
of beings, Mitt, the educated, independent kind. Worry, Mitt. Worry. I am the
lesser half and I am independent and I am dangerous to you and your kind. And
you just insulted me for simply being. And then you insulted my intelligence by
attempting to back-pedal.
I think the only thing you got wrong in Boca Raton was the
first part. You failed to worry about the lesser half. Oh, I know that it’s a
great way to get the better part of the 99 percent to see themselves as being
on your side. But then, that’s an insult to the greater half, too, isn’t it? Where
would you be today if your father hadn’t worked all night long sewing straps on
your boots Mitt? Where would you be if, in a rush to deny you, the very
shoulders you stand upon shrugged? Don’t worry. My community feeds at the
homeless shelter every fifth Sunday a month. We even bring home-made food. And
we don’t ask for tax returns.
Leah Cassorla
Leah F. Cassorla is a 47-percenter residing in Tallahassee,
Florida, where she dares to try to earn a PhD, though it will mean she will
earn little from her hard work for the rest of her life. She believes in the
inherent right of all living things to food, shelter and medical care and has had
the privilege of living in countries that respect such a right. She is
currently a bottom-feeder of the lowest order, and has mountains of student
loan debt she looks forward to writing off from her taxes in the future. Her
writing may or may not lead her to become a proud payer of high taxes one day,
but she's hopeful nonetheless.
