A Millennial Chasing the American Dream: Finding Hope in Economic Uncertainty

I’ve recently embarked on a journey of self-growth that requires me to be vulnerable with myself and others. It’s not always easy, but it’s always been worth it.

To that end, I’d like to share my personal story as it relates to finances and my career.

It’s one that I’ve often been embarrassed by and afraid to share. Money has always been a sensitive subject for me because it’s always been a struggle, and I thought somehow that others would think less of me for that. I now know that that’s not true, and in fact, many people my age struggle in similar ways.

For so long I thought my plight was unique to my circumstances (and in many ways it is), but now through research and analysis we’re starting to see more globally that this is a plight of a generation caught in a perfect economic storm of rising debt, declining high-wage jobs, stagnating — and declining — incomes, and a lack of adequate and affordable housing, among others.

For the first time in generations, we will make less real income and have a lower quality of life than our parents. I will use my story as an anecdote, but rest assured that in many ways this is a ballad for a generation wanting to participate, contribute and thrive despite an uphill battle.

I was born into a middle-income family. My father joined the military out of high school and received vocational training as an electrician. He was able to support my mother and his two young daughters on his income, though things were tight. My parents lived in a reality where one could still obtain a decent paying job without a college education and raise a family.

That is a reality that no longer exists in much of America.

I was always precocious and stubborn. I read the Communist Manifesto in sixth grade and was interested in political systems and history. I took college classes at night while working in a restaurant in high school in order to graduate at 16 years old. I left home at that time and began community college where I took at job tutoring English to students.

I didn’t choose an easy path. The reality of being an non-emancipated teenager renting a room in a friend’s house, going to school full-time, working nights and trying to decide what the hell I wanted to do with my life was sobering.

I ended up moving from Yuba City to Sacramento, where I lived in an apartment and waited tables while going to school. It took me nearly five years in community college before I finally received my Associate’s Degree (two, in fact). It was the result of a combination of uncertainty and a demanding job that often left me working more than 60 hours a week. But when the choice is keeping a roof over your head or going to school, it’s not a hard decision.

At this point I realized that being uncomfortable was something I was intimately used to, and what’s a few more years if it means the promise of the American dream? You know, getting that college degree, having a real career, being able to buy a house and have a family. I told myself to push forward just a little longer, and that was something I could achieve.

And so I did.

I applied to the University of California, Davis, and I was accepted. I had no idea at the time, but this would be one of the most trying times of my life, and I still don’t know how in hell how I did it.

One of the things they don’t tell you is that colleges assume something called “expected family contribution”. This means that UC Davis assumed my family was contributing financially to my college education (something to the tune of 12,000 per year), and there was nothing I could do to convince them otherwise.

Believe me, I tried.

I explained to them that I had left home at a young age, and that I was responsible for paying for my own education. Apparently, the bureaucracy didn’t seem to think that mattered, and therefore I was limited in the grant opportunities I was able to receive.

And so it was. I knew I was going to have to get into a ton of student debt to pay for this, but this is what I was supposed to do right? What other options did I really have to break out of the life I was living?

Over the course of two years, I commuted from Sacramento to Davis for school four days a week. I also worked as a waitress and a bartender at night, sleeping in parking lots between my shifts and studying on my breaks. I cannot tell you how many times I almost gave up, or how many times I soaked my pillow trying to figure out if I was going to pay my energy bill or buy books.

During that time I accumulated over $40,000 in student loan debt and nearly $10,000 in credit card debt trying to get by. And by most standards of student debt, I was lucky.

Then the day came — the day when I walked across that stage and received that expensive piece of paper. I remember thinking to myself, “I’ve finally made it”.

I wish that was true.

Immediately after college, I worked at a full-time internship that didn’t pay enough for me to cover my bills, so I continued to work in the restaurant industry at night. I was ok with this because I knew I had to “do my time”. I then was fortunate to take a job at a nonprofit doing work I love.

Since that time, I have learned many valuable skills and have accomplished a significant amount. I have produced a 60-page report on the state of election funding in California and travel around the state speaking on my research. I manage projects, produce media content and track legislation, among other things.

It’s a world I almost never thought I’d make it into.

Despite the difference in scenery and the value I get out of the work I do, some things are still very much the same. As a young professional in $50,000 worth of debt, I make less than $40,000 a year. My reality is still one where I stress financially, but rather than over school supplies, I worry if I can afford my student loan payments and rent. I worry that my neighborhood is being gentrified and that I’ll no longer be able to afford to live there.

While the answer may seem simple — just “get a higher paying job”, that’s not a reality for much of my generation. Study after study has revealed a job market still struggling to recover from the economic downturn and crippling debt that hinders our ability to buy homes and have families.

We’re in a precarious and uncharted place that others may have trouble grasping because it wasn’t their reality.

Is this the new American dream?