„Talent is God-given. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful.“
— John Wooden
Dear Auntie SAM: This isn’t really a question, but a statement. Many expats are very privileged, while the people I work with are anything but. So yeah – different worlds …
In high school, I was popular. Very.
And there was this girl from another school I never attended who hated me.
I didn’t even know who she was until people from over four counties (each approximately the size of a small Swiss canton) warned she planned to beat me up.
And she was scrappy.
For years, this pint-sized pugilist went ballistic at me upon sight. She sent me hateful letters with photos of me destroyed. She came to my mom’s house & cursed me to my mother & on my front lawn. When she saw me in a car, she’d try running me down. One night, at Summerfest, a friend protected me from one of her punches & she broke his nose.
With that, I was finally able to secure a restraining order & she wasn’t allowed near me anymore.
Whatever did I do to deserve her wrath?
She resented me because she thought my life was too easy.
In her eyes, I was privileged.
While she? She had to suffer being the overburdened eldest daughter of divorced teen parents – her father: an alcoholic; her mother: often absent, working overtime & extra jobs to provide for her & her two siblings.
Even back then I knew the only difference between her & I is I *am* privileged – but not in the ways she saw.
My high school was located in the same town where my father lived. At his house, we had nothing, including water (See Games People Play). He often took us mudding & camping, & we returned to mom’s house positively filthy.
While with him, we had to wear the clothes he bought us (years prior). Which were also filthy, several sizes too small, & nothing matched.
When I rode my bike through town, boys threw stones at me.
The same boys, who, when I came from my mom’s house to school – cleaned, primped, & purdy – begged to date me. For years.
I never did.
And, though I became friends with all except a few, I never told them why … unless they’re reading this now.
I’ve lived in tents. I’ve lived in my car & a storage unit. I had a gay Sugar Daddy who bought me clothes & jewelry, & provided a house fully staffed, including bodyguards & chauffeurs, with fresh flowers delivered weekly to every room. And, even once, for a long time, I had a home.
Irrespective of my trappings, if you knew me, you’d probably agree: we’re not so different, you & I.
Or you & them – the other expats. Or us & them.
But you don’t.
I stay tucked into my world, skirting along the edges of yours & theirs. Watching yours. Watching theirs. Listening. Learning. Judging.
Choosing when to act. Choosing whom to ignore.
Not really affected by either decision.
Privileged.
Just like you.
The one thing that binds us in Basel is everyone is someone’s Privileged Other.
From the local perspective, expats arrive & take big salaries. Their lives easy; nothing to consider because of … money?
But from the perspective of an expat, locals grew up going to well-funded schools, & walking clean & relatively well-protected streets. They have the network & support to fail. They have the knowledge that will help them succeed & thrive. And many have money, too.
An easy life is one in which a person has the ability to influence & navigate their world. When you look into the eyes of most expats, do they look like they have that power?
So, putting aside all our prejudices, the only real question facing anyone in Basel is what are you going to do with your privilege?
Your power.
If you accept it & use it, maybe you won’t resent the ways others seem privileged, too. Maybe, even, on a clear day, you’ll see that The Other was always you.
XO
AS
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It’s a 3-DAY WEEKEND, so let your FREAK FLAGS FLY:
FRIDAY, the ROCKABILLY HOOLIGANS (formerly of THEO’S FRIED CHICKEN) CHICKEN RELOADED quakes 8BAR with MUSIC to make you DANCE. 110% CHICKEN. 520% PUNK’N’ROLL. 9PM.
Then SATURDAY, head to PHOENIX ROCK KELLER in MUTTENZ for FOOD, DRINK, PINK MOHAWKS, & ROCK’N’PUNK with BIKINI GIRLS. Doors at 8PM. 10SFr.