Dear Mitt Romney,
As a young girl with a bicultural heritage, I grew up between
three worlds: the world of my wealthy maternal grandparents in New Jersey, the
world of my paternal grandparents who lived in a small village in Northern
India, and the world of my middle-income parents in a community near New York
City. I was comfortable in all places: at the country club, at the bazaar, and
at the town’s harbor park.
I learned that there are many ways to live. And they all
have honor. And even though my parents sometimes struggled to make ends meet,
the ends were always met.
But when I reached adulthood, life took me to a place where
I didn’t think I would ever go—to the divorce court. And I had a
three-year-old and no one to help out. I think people with privilege like to
think that they can control all—their lives, their income, their families,
their environment, their fellow beings—but they can’t. And life can take anyone
to unexpected places in a second—into a hospital, into debt, into bankruptcy.
Or just hovering above the poverty line, as I was, part of the dire national
statistics for single women heading the household. I made juuuust enough to not qualify for government programs, but too
little to pay government and state taxes. And I was grateful the government
protected me and my son in that way.
But even though I was not paying those taxes, I was paying
the state sales tax every time I bought something. I contributed to other
people paying taxes, as I worked for companies that did, enabling them to make
their bottom line. So you see, Mr. Romney, the 47% is still contributing to the
economy and helping to keep others afloat (like yourself) so that they can pay
their taxes. And believe me, we are more than happy to get to a place where we
are making enough to contribute on our own. I don’t know anyone who says I’ll work
for less so I can owe less. Owing less, for the lower-income class, means you
have less. Everyone wants more.
I once spoke to a woman living on the streets. She had no
job, begged for money, but was adamant that she still helped the economy every
time she went into McDonald’s to buy her cup of coffee. She felt a sense of
pride when she went into the store with her hard-earned cash (yes, what some
have to do for spare change can be harder than what some do for millions in
investments). She felt like she was contributing something. She wanted to
contribute something.
We can’t get away from taxes, even on the streets.
Thanks for listening to this story, just one of millions.
Tara L. Masih
Tara L. Masih is editor of The Rose
Metal Press Field Guide to Writing Flash Fiction (a ForeWord Book of the
Year), The Chalk Circle: Intercultural
Prizewinning Essays (a Skipping Stones Honor Book), and author of Where the Dog Star Never Glows (a
National Best Books Award finalist). She has published fiction, poetry, and
essays in numerous anthologies and literary magazines (including Confrontation, Hayden’s Ferry Review,
Natural Bridge, The Pedestal, Night Train, and The Caribbean Writer), and several limited edition illustrated
chapbooks featuring her flash fiction have been published by The Feral Press. Awards for her work include first
place in The Ledge Magazine’s fiction
contest and Pushcart Prize, Best New
American Voices, and Best of the Web nominations. www.taramasih.com.
