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ü: Jewish and Working ClassBernice MennisClass background reveals itself in little ways….I never felt poor or deprived. I had not other perspective, no other reality from which to judge our life.

…Economic class has been a matter of both shame and pride for me, depending on the value judgments of the community with which I identified. The economic class reality has always remained the same: My father had a very small outdoor tomato and banana stand and a small cellar for ripening the fruit. Until he was 68, he worked twelve hours a day, six days a week, with one week vacation. Although he worked hard and supported our family well, my father did not feel proud of his work, did not affirm his strength. Instead he was ashamed to have me visit his fruit stand; he saw his work as dirty, himself as an “ignorant greenhorn.” The legacy of class.

And I accepted and echoed back his shame. In elementary school, when we had to go around and say what work our parents did, I repeated my father’s euphemistic words: “My father sells wholesale and retail fruits and vegetables.” It’s interesting that later, what I was involved in political actions, my shame turned to pride of that same class background. The poorer one was born, the better, the more (political) credit.

Both reactions, shame and pride, are based on a false assumption that one has control and responsibility for what one is born into. Society, those in power, institutions, is responsible for people being born into conditions of economic limitation and suffering, for racism and classism. But as individuals, we do not choose our birth. That blame/credit often prevents us from seeing clearly the actual effects of growing up in a certain class: what it allows, what it inhibits, blocks, destroys. Also, if we take credit for what is out of our control, we sometimes do not take sufficient credit for what is in our control: our consciousness, our actions, how we shape our lives.

Feelings of poverty or wealth are based on one’s experiences and where one falls on the economic spectrum. The economic class and the conditions we grow up under are very real, objective, but how we label and see those circumstances is relative, shaped by what we see outside ourselves. Growing up in the Pelham Parkway-Lydig Avenue area of the Bronx, I heard my circumstances echoed everywhere: Everyone’s parents spoke Yiddish and had accents; they all spoke loudly and with their hands; few were educated beyond junior high school; no one dressed stylishly or went to restaurants except for special occasions or had fancy cars or dishwashers or clothes washers…We ate good kosher food and fresh fruits and vegetables. My mother sewed our clothes or we would shop in Alexander’s and look for bargains(clothes with manufacturers tags removed). Clothes were passed between sisters, cousins, neighbors. I never felt poor or deprived. I had not other perspective, no other reality from which to judge our life.

Clearly, our assumptions, expectations, and hopes are unconsciously shaped by our class backgrounds. At a very young age, I learned to want only what my parents could afford. It was a good survival mechanism that allowed me never to feel deprived or denied. At a later age, when I would read in natural history books about the “immortal species,” the lesson was reaffirmed: The key to survival was always to become smaller, to minimize needs. Those species that had become dependent on more luxuriant conditions perished during hard times. Those used to less, survived….Even now I tend to minimize my needs, to never feel deprived—a legacy of my class background.

Class background reveals itself in little ways. Around food, for example. My family would sip their soup loudly, putting mouth close to bowl. We would put containers directly on the table and never use a butter dish. We would suck bone marrow with gusto, pick up chicken bones with our hands, crunch them with our teeth, and leave little slivers on our otherwise empty plates. We would talk loudly and argue politics at dinner. Only later did I become conscious of the judgment of others about certain behavior, ways of eating, talking, walking, dressing, being. Polite etiquette struck me as a bit absurd, as if hunger were uncivilized: the delicate portions, the morsels left on the plate, the proper use of knife and fork, the spoon seeming to go in opposite direction of the mouth. The more remote one was from basic needs, the higher one’s class status. I usually was unconscious of the “proper” behavior: I did not notice. But if I ever felt the eye of judgment, my first tendency would be to exaggerate my grossness in order to show the absurdity of others’ snobbish judgments. I would deny that the judgments had any effect other than anger. But I now realize that all judgment has effect. Some of my negative self-image as klutz, nebbish, ugly, unsophisticated, is a direct result of the reflection I say in the judging sophisticated eye of the upper class.

For poorer people, for people who experience prejudice, there is a strong feeling that one has no power, no ability, to affect or control one’s environment. For nine years my family and I lived in a very small three room apartment; my sister and I had no bedroom of our own. When we moved from the fifth floor to the sixth, we got a tiny room just big enough for two beds and a cabinet. I never thought to put up a picture, to choose a room color or a bedspread. I had no notion of control over private space, of shaping my environment.

…What happens when one feels self conscious and small and is seen as large, wealthy, powerful, controlling? At a young age, I knew the anti-Semitic portrait of the wealthy, exploitative Jew. I also knew that I did not feel powerful or controlling. My parents and I felt powerless, fearful, vulnerable. We owned nothing. All my parents saved, after working fifty years, would not equal the cost of one year of college tuition today. What does it mean to have others’ definition of one’s reality so vastly different from one’s experience of it?

Bernice Mennis lives in the Adirondacks in Upstate New York and has taught for over twenty years in a low residency, student centered, interdisciplinary college, Vermont College of Union Institute & University. For twelve years she taught Composition and literature in Great Meadows and Washington Corrections Facilities as part of Skidmore College’s University Without Walls.Her most recent book is

Breaking Out of Prison (June 2008), which circles around the complex and fundamental question of how to break out of internal and external prisons which confine both ourselves and others in spaces much too small for our mind, heart, and spirit. It explores how writing, even a simple Composition class within a maximum security prison, can be a path for consciousness, compassion, and freedom. It is not, however, only about those who are imprisoned within concrete and steel, but also about those who have placed them there and how concepts, habitual thinking and entrapped mindsets cast some people "beyond the pale" with the illusion that another's imprisonment makes us safe, that another's "evil" makes us "good."

At the center of the book are papers written by students in a composition class in prison, but Breaking Out of Prison also traces the author's personal journey toward understanding and freedom. It includes a wide range of poetry and creative nonfiction as well as selections from works in history,

psychology, politics, and spirituality. It is a weave of experience and theory, of poetry and literature, of pedagogy (a practical guide on how to teach writing), and Buddhist thought (bare attention and mindfulness), of psychology (shadow and projection) and politics (the prison industrial complex in the U.S.). Breaking Out of Prison explores paths toward deeper awareness within ourselves and in the world.

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