"We are not alright" either

Hello beautiful people, 

Feyikemi (my sister) is currently doing research for a brilliant post on poverty. That is great but I want to take a minute to look at the other end of the spectrum. In comparison to Feyikemi's piece, this is probably trivia but it tugs on the heart of some, nonetheless. Today, I want to talk about privilege.

Confusion, guilt, crippling isolation and unsettling levels of shame are a few companions of many children born into wealth. Though they'd rather die than expose this secret. I was talking to one of my good friends the other day and she poured her heart out to me and said things that she didn't know often kept me awake at night. Our discussion compelled me to write this post, on a subject I didn't quite know how to approach without getting too personal before now. Trust me, we get it. People like to see the suffering and humiliation of the rich. We know, there's nothing new about that. It happens everywhere in the world, alright. Okay, we understand.

However, what we do not know or can't understand, is why people can't see past the facades. Rich people's tears are just as salty. Before you start thinking I'm writing baloney, hold up. If you absolutely cannot feel any sympathy for the rich amongst us, can you at least try to have some sympathy for their children? Yes, there are some things they will never have to worry or even think about in their lives that plague the poor daily, but there is also a great deal they will have to face that the poor cannot fathom.

Photo: winefolly.com

I was shocked that my friend was talking about such a taboo subject that all of us are too scared to talk about but she said something that intrigued me. "Dara, the truth is, maybe our long dead family members that created our name and gathered wealth couldn't complain because it was what they wanted, but I can. We can. We didn't choose to be born into our families and people often forget that. People think, they are from that family, they go to school abroad, their family did this or that, their children are alright. The bitter truth is, we are not alright." Her words stung me and I have replayed them over and over again in my head a thousand times since our lunch date. The amazing part is, this my friend is the most put together person I know. If I were to name drop, half of you wouldn't believe it.

It's very complicated. I can't go into all the details but I have a message. I know more messed up people than not messed up people. And they are all good stock, come from good families, got the best educations, blah blah blah etc. Who our families are, shouldn't determine how we are perceived but unfortunately it does. Keeping up, trying to figure out who we are, trying to deal with the guilt and deep loneliness, is doing more bad than good to innocent children. And the society isn't helping. My friend and I know it happens all over the world, because we both met numerous children from Hong Kong and Russia suffering the same fate at our different boarding schools. I'm not trying to evoke the spirit of the poor little rich girl, I just really want to speak for a small sect of people too scared to speak about a subject we are not allowed to talk about. We, they, have problems. Deep problems that maybe the average man would never understand. Untop of that, we, they, have images to protect. Images other people created for them. They are not allowed to fail, they are not allowed to hurt, they are not allowed to go through bad or difficult times and they are not allowed to cry. 

Well, my friend cried to me and it broke my heart and when I opened up and cried to her, it broke her heart. I can't write half of the things we suffer or enjoy because of who are families are in Lagos but I can tell you that it is not always pretty. The first day one girl told me that she wished she was born into my family, I stared at her for a few moments and wondered how she could see a completely different picture from what I saw. Now, when somebody says that or tells me they wish they were me, I shake my head and smile. I thought I was dressing in a way that misled people to think everything was all sunshine, so I flipped and became carefree. Most times,  even though I'm the most under dressed person in the room, the moment I say my name, it doesn't matter. Everything the people I'm talking to, think they know about my family (good and bad) takes over their minds. 

I know 27 year old men, crippled with the intense pressure to surpass their parents and grandparents, who have crumbled under the burden. They have succumbed to alcohol and drugs to deal with public expectations or to hide from their image. I know girls my age, who are desperately trying not to rock the boats by wearing all the right clothes and behaving in all the right ways, while depression eats deep away at their souls. Despite what you may think you know, my friend was right. Somehow, in the great mystery of life, the people and children that everyone else think have it best or should have it best, don't. In many ways (when you consider the added pressure of maintaining an image that wasn't even created by them) they have it worse. The offspring of the wealthy that many think are alright, are not. For reasons not known to many of us, the privilege we are born into, more often than not, ends up being a curse. Always, remember that before you gloat or wish you were someone else's child. My parting words? In real life, nobody is really better off than anybody. We are all on the same sea. In different boats maybe but the storms, tides and long nights happen to us all and they are no respecter of boats. Well, what do we know? It turns out life is very fair. 

With all my love,

Dara Rhodes