"My Life as White Trash" is intended to be a series exploring the word White Trash and how this social label and its variants became a self-exploring and educational journey for one small girl growing up in southern America.
White trash.
The first time I heard this term was, of all places, in a kindergarten classroom and from the mouth of a classmate who couldn't read well enough that I was puzzled at the time to how he knew what the word meant when I, who was a more experienced reader, didn't even recognize the word. Was it a compliment? An insult? Or just a simple statement? All I had done was answered his question about where I lived. I let it bug me through our very easy lesson on the letter M before playtime came upon us. While the other children ran for the Legos or crayons, I ran for the bookshelf. Standing on a chair nearby to fetch my book of choice, after quickly checking to make sure my teacher and her assistant weren't looking, as they would look at me strangely whenever I asked for the book, as if it was none of my business looking through such a grown up tome, I snatched my choice. We're not talking about that childish "My First Dictionary" dribble that sat a few shelves down, mind you, but the official Webster kind that none of the other kids touched. Probably because they wouldn't know what to do with such a book, but then again, I came into kindergarten more prepared than a lot of my classmates.
I withdrew to a corner where I was out of view from most of my classmates and began leafing through the W's. Wait. Wet. Wheel. Whisper. White. Finally, white trash. While I don't own that same Webster's edition, nor can totally recall exactly how it was stated, I can tell you that the newest version of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines white trash as "a member of an inferior or underprivileged white social group." What I can tell you is that I was confused, after chaining the meaning of the words in the definition together. Even as a small child, I knew that all were equal under the eyes of God, whatever God that may be, and we are all special in our own ways. As the call for lunch carried on, I quickly disposed of the book and of my questions, saving them for another day.
As the years went on, the word revisited me in similar forms. No matter the word combinations or variants, the confusion stayed. I was never inferior or underprivileged. I was quite blessed, actually. I had a roof over my head. I had all the food I wanted. I even had a Nintendo and its successors long before my classmates acquired them. Being the only child in my family for ten years, I pretty much had anything I wanted. A bit spoiled, yes, but underprivileged I was not. I only confronted the true meaning of the word on a school field trip, in which we passed a large community of homes during our trek. Looking out of the window of the bus, as I always enjoyed doing, the row of houses looked similar to my own. Long and compact with vinyl underpinning. I was admiring their look, as all of them looked like they were newer than my own, when a boy a couple seats behind me made a comment to his seat mate in a snarky tone: "Look, that's where Daddy say the white trash live."
It hit me. All this time, they weren't talking about being inferior or going without. They were talking about a house. A house like mine.
They are called many things, even if there are distinct differences. Trailers, mobile home, pre-manufactured home. The name never really was important to me. It was a house, which Webster tells us is ""a building that serves as living quarters for one or a few families." Webster never told me that there was a difference in apperance, construction, and how that applied to your social stature. Nor did my parents. I had always assumed that a house was a house and I was happy to have one. Yet this kid, two seats back, continued to babble along about the ignorance and prejudice his father apparently handed down to him like a family heirloom. White trash. Trailer trash. Good for nothing, dirty people that work in the factories. As much as it was an epiphany, the mystery behind these two words grew larger.
I sat in my leather seat, very quiet the rest of the trip. Webster, in all its knowledge, did not prepare me for this hidden definition. A definition that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
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Comments: 28
Social labels are always such interesting creatures, they seek to empower some and yet they undermine us all.
Btw, my parents lived in a trailer park as young adults and when they were first married. In fact, that's where they first met, at a neighborhood potluck.
When can we read the next article?
I finally had to ask another one of my friends what it meant. She said it meant he lived in a trailer. I asked her why that was trash. She said people who lived in trailers were really poor and thus like trash. I didn't get it. And that's probably why I stayed friends with the "trailer trash."
I grew up in two households, moving from one to the other every three or four years. My father's home was suburban, in a country neighborhood. My Mother's home was usually public housing. I was the same person in either household, but was prejudged negatively when I lived in one, and accepted openly when I lived in the other.
As for K.D.'s question, part two should be out tomorrow or the next.
term or similar terms.
I have often wondered about the popularity
of Elvis Presley, what the true meaning of
the Presley phenomenon is. Before Elvis,
popular music was, in fact, most of the arts
were, kind of cultural. Hank Williams and
country music were coming along, in a niche
way, to pave the way for the acceptance of
individuals of, dare I say, lower socio-economic
status. Then, suddenly, it exploded in the
Elvis phenom. Pop music hasn't been the same
since. Now, we are nearly at a place where, unless
the aspirant can project a certain disenfranchisement,
he or she is dead in the water as far as ever being a
star goes. (I'm thinking almost of all the '50s rock and
rockabilly stars, Blues, The Beatles, The Stones, Dylan, EltonJohn, Outlaw Country, Southern Rock, all Metal, all Punk, all Rappers, Hip-hop, and on the list goes.)
These are people of nearly universal appeal, and their
common thread is a kind of under the surface --- you
fiull in the blank --- I'd hate to say "vulgarity" but it
is something not too far from it.
There is another writer who coined the term
'white trash chic.' I can't remeber her name, but
she is hilarious. Esquire magazine publishes her
work.
My only critical comment is that, while there seems
a never ending public appetite for 'poor me,' (witness
The Oprah Winfrey Show,) I think you are on to a
topic that could go well beyond the quick sale and
reward you with some serious acclaim.
don't ever stop.
"White trash" has become somewhat of an ironic term for Generation X. Don't take it so seriously. Some years ago I went to a "white trash" party in Los Angeles. Everyone was supposed to show up in their version of a white trash outfit. Everyone was having a blast and I serious doubt that the so-called white trash at the party were all upset about it.
I've known plenty of people from so-called "white trash" backgrounds who would be the first to joke about it. It's a subculture but also a caricature of itself.
For example, white trash food. It's an entire cuisine. Wonder bread and hot dogs, among other things. Casserole dishes made out of Ritz crackers. Jell-O molds. Yum!
I guess my feeling on this topic is: Lighten up about it!
Several years ago, I heard a local judge describe as "stupid" the Vietnam-era soldiers from a neighboring "blue-collar" town who did not evade military service as did her contemporaries in her "white-collar" town.
Do not expect the ignorant to be children only, nor, ironically, uneducated.
No, I *do* get it. But you know what? You can sit there for the rest of your life upset because some kids in school made fun of you for living in a trailer, or get over it.
I liken this in some respects to the humorous "dorks" story posted here recently that someone flipped out over. I was one of the "dorks" growing up. I don't get all wacked out over the use of the term dork. I could write some heartfelt story about how I felt as a dork growing up...but...EVERYONE GROWING UP HAS SOME SORT OF TEASING TO DEAL WITH. There's humor in it.
On the humor: Trailers are kind of ridiculous places to live when you think about it...not because they are for poor people, but because they are trailers and that's inherently kind of quirky. So you can either see the humor in the concept of a trailer or get all offended over it.
I would likewise poke at monolithic, cookie cutter suburban homes as well. It's silly!! There are a lot of silly things in American culture! Trailers, suburbs, and Jell-O molds are all fun, quirky aspects of our culture.
Beyond that, I just think political correctness goes too far if we are going to try to equate the term "white trash" with real, persistent, systemized prejudice and racism against minorities.
"White trash" is not a race, it's not even necessarily an economic group (as Duane points out), and it's in some respects a term that has gone beyond to become an ironic one.
So relax and lighten up about it, I say.
"My Life as White Trash" is intended to be a series exploring the word White Trash and how this social label and its variants became a self-exploring and educational journey for one small girl growing up in southern America.
Read more carefully and you might see how your comment doesn't fit her thesis.
If she's exploring the word "white trash" then it is completely fair to bring up its ironic use. That is *totally* in context.
Beyond that, there's no rule that says that comments must exactly match the article content. Comments are also written based on other comments.
my advanced years, but I see a
future for somebody in being America's
white trash poster girl.
Obviously, Jerry Springer figured out an angle
that worked. Unfortunately, the only
one laughing (all the way to the bank)
was Springer and Company themselves.
In other words, the humor was strictly
on the inside (the show and the people
on it were disgusting and annoying.)
Oprah, on the other hand: bring out the
crying towels.
Somewhere between Oprah's and
Jerry's approach, there is a niche that
could go beyond the 20 minutes of
fame, thank you very much CBS.
I'm with Stephanie on this one:
lighten up and it just might fly.
Try to do it without humor and find
it's already been done.
My top WT's are, in this order,
Elvis and Tanya Harding.
Gretchen Wilson has got it going
on, but Hank Jr., give me a break.
I need more than Kenny Chesny
pushing Toby Keith into your
designer pool to make a believer
out of me, though I dig the new
tribute to Hank Sr. & Otis.
This story isn't for folks like Duane, who have already learned the lesson this story will teach (and I totally agree with you Duane!). I know I'll be preaching to the choir for most folks, as this story is related to any "lesson learned" situation, but this topic is just something for your mind to chew on, after all.
Thanks for all the comments!
Although I now live in a rural part of east Texas, and there are alot of mobile homes here, I would never consider them "white trash", redneck, maybe........but that is a different article altogether.
Best of luck and I look forward to the next installment.
was interviewed recently and was talking about
his impovrished upbringing. Self described,
his family was "trailer trash, without the trailer."