The U.S. demonstrates what we care about through the policies it enacts and retracts—and we don’t seem to have the capacity to invest in care.
I had been on hold with the customer care line with the U.S. Postal Service for about 30 minutes. I had been transferred a few times, and everyone kept saying, “We cannot locate the package at the moment; please hold.” I continued to wait and remain calm, but my mind was racing. I was still processing the fact that I no longer had a mom. My mother had died, and the U.S. Postal Service had me on hold while they searched for her.
The person returned to the line and said, “I am sorry, ma’am. At this moment, we are unable to locate your package, and I have a number for you to call.” I paused, trying to maintain my breath and anger. I asked him, “Sir, can you tell me if you can see what kind of package your organization has lost?” He responded, “Yes, I see cremated remains.” “Yes, that is correct. You have lost my mom; please do not call her a package.”
I was outraged, as I know, and they knew, that in the United States, the only mail carrier that can transport human remains is the U.S. Postal Service. The customer service representatives all referred to my mother’s ashes as “the package,” not a person.
After about two weeks, the post office was able to locate my mother’s ashes. When I arrived to collect them from the post office, I stood in line like everyone else. When it was my turn to be assisted, I handed the cashier the tracking information; she searched the back and returned with a container marked “cremated remains,” said, “Here ya go,” and tossed the package on the counter. She made little eye contact as I collected the box and moved on to the next customer.
My mom was diagnosed with early onset dementia in the fall of 2021. At that time, I had no idea that Black women were at a higher risk of developing Alzheimer’s and 35 percent less likely to receive an initial diagnosis. Women lead the diagnosis of this illness, but Black women and Hispanic women far outpaced new cases. There is limited research as to especially why this demographic has such a higher rate of illness, but we can surmise that race-related stress and environment play a factor.
I had no idea that Black women were at a higher risk of developing Alzheimer’s and 35 percent less likely to receive an initial diagnosis.
According to the Center for American Progress, 84.4 percent of Black mothers are primary, sole, or co-breadwinners, compared with 60.3 percent of Latina mothers and 62.4 percent of white mothers. (Data from 2017.)
We are in trouble beyond stress; we are in a healthcare crisis. So I was dismayed when the surgeon general recently issued a report that called for shifts in how we treat parents and their mental health. The advisory, while accurate, was akin to saying, “Fire is hot.”
We have had the opportunity to pass and implement paid leave in the U.S. and have failed to succeed at the federal level.
Under the American Recovery Plan, the child tax credit lifted many families from poverty, but we could not sustain it.
The Department of Education continues to fight to remove student debt, which impacts low-income families with too much debt to build a quality of life for their children.
Mothering Justice is a Michigan statewide organization working to support families and build a pro-care agenda—one that provides comprehensive support that enables everyone to lead dignified, fulfilling lives. Their local research found that over 90 percent of respondents view themselves as caregivers, whether child, parent or neighbor. In addition, a majority of Mothering Justice members are working people with children and/or aging parents, leading single-income homes and stretched too thin to have their care needs met.
We need public investment in the care economy to build a culture rooted in rest, mental health and caring for a neighbor without risking your income. Care could be the foundation for giving gifts to the next generation. There is already an action plan for policies that can improve the quality of life for parents and the overall community.
“Why do people pick careers in customer service if they don’t seem to like people?” a close friend remarked rhetorically as he checked out of the supermarket, and the cashier could not be bothered to speak or make eye contact. It was remarkable to me that he genuinely expected people to be kind if they chose a career in care. On the other hand, I believe that people are hurting in so many ways that I no longer expect kindness or joy. I understand it.
The U.S. demonstrates what we care about through the policies it enacts and retracts, and we don’t seem to have the capacity to invest in care.
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