Reformed American Dreams: Welfare Mothers, Higher Education, and Activism 9780813594385

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Reformed American Dreams

Reformed American Dreams Welfare ­Mothers, Higher Education, and Activism

SHEILA M. KATZ

Rutgers University Press New Brunswick, Camden, and Newark, New Jersey, and London

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Katz, Sheila Marie, author. Title: Reformed American dreams : welfare mothers, higher education, and activism /   Sheila M. Katz. Description: New Brunswick : Rutgers University Press, 2019. | Includes bibliographical   references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018042830 | ISBN 9780813594347 (paperback) |   ISBN 9780813594354 (cloth) Subjects: LCSH: Low-income single mothers—United States—Social conditions. | Low-income   single mothers—Education (Higher)—United States. | Welfare recipients—Employment—   United States. | United States—Social policy—20th century. | Social movements—United   States. | BISAC: SOCIAL SCIENCE / Social Classes. | EDUCATION / Higher. |   EDUCATION / Inclusive Education. | SOCIAL SCIENCE / Women’s Studies. | SOCIAL   SCIENCE / Discrimination & Race Relations. Classification: LCC HQ759 .K34748 2019 | DDC 361.6/140973—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018042830 A British Cataloging-­in-­Publication rec­ord for this book is available from the British Library. Copyright © 2019 by Sheila M. Katz All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is “fair use” as defined by U.S. copyright law. The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—­Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992. www​.­r utgersuniversitypress​.­org Manufactured in the United States of Amer­i­ca

To LIFETIME’s parents, in support of your tireless work fighting poverty; to activists and m ­ others fighting for better f­utures; to my parents for loving support; and to Dan for our f­uture

Contents List of Selected Abbreviations and Acronyms Introduction

ix 1

1

Reforming the American Dream

12

2

Pathways onto Welfare and into College

32

3

Reformed Grassroots Activism

60

4

Survival through College

82

5

My Education Means Every­thing to Me

103

6

Hope and Fear during the G ­ reat Recession

124

7

Graduating into the ­Great Recession

147

8

An American Dream for All

167



Afterword: Evolution of the American Dream

184

Appendix A: Methods Appendix 189 Appendix B: Profiles of Interview Participants in 2006 195 Acknowl­edgments 199 Notes 203 Index 223

vii

List of Selected Abbreviations and Acronyms AFDC:

Aid to Families with Dependent C ­ hildren, started as the Aid to Dependent C ­ hildren program as part of the Social Security Act of 1935 and was the national welfare program from 1935 u­ ntil 1996. CalWORK s: California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids, California’s TANF program. CARE: Cooperative Agencies Resources for Education, a subprogram of EOPS specifically for single parents. CDSS: California Department of Social Ser­vices, the state department that administers the health and h ­ uman ser­vice programs, including CalWORKs. EOPS: Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices, a program at community colleges and state universities to support low-­ income and nontraditional college students. JOBS: Job Opportunities and Basic Skills, program created in the ­Family Support Act of 1988 to encourage welfare participants to get higher education, job training, and work. LIFE T IME: Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education, an advocacy and activist organ­ization of and for low-­income parents focused on welfare rights and access to education. PRWOR A: Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996, the bill that abolished the AFDC program and replaced it with the block grants administered to the states through the TANF program. TANF: Temporary Assistance for Needy Families, also known as welfare reform, the national program that replaced AFDC and instructed each state to create a work first program. ix

Reformed American Dreams

Introduction

1996 “Higher education for the m ­ iddle class, work first for the poor” was the message millions of low-­income single ­mothers in college received from the 1996 U.S. welfare reforms. For many, their American Dream of pursuing higher education as a route off of welfare and out of poverty ended on August 22, 1996. President Bill Clinton signed the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act (PRWORA) that day, which created the Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) program, and reformed the U.S. welfare system. This social policy shift ended welfare as a social entitlement program and emphasized a “work first” approach for the poor. Welfare reform drastically reduced higher educational opportunities for low-­income single m ­ others. Unaware of this massive shift in American poverty policy, I started my ju­nior year as a sociology major at the University of Georgia three weeks l­ ater. I walked into my first major-­level course, Josephine Beoku-­Betts’s Sociology of Poverty and Discrimination. She started the course with the ­simple question—­“What is poverty?”—­and asked each student to write down an answer. Most of us wrote down brief answers about meeting basic needs or not being homeless or hungry. The ­woman who was sitting in front of me wrote a long, detailed, personal narrative about being able to feed her son, buy essentials (such as toilet paper and tampons) not covered by food stamps, and being able to complete her higher education. The class was stunned. I was stunned, too, and then intrigued. Her openness on the first day of class about having been a teenage mom, g­ oing on welfare, living in poverty, and now being a college student was surprising, refreshing, startling, and graphic. 1

2  •  Reformed American Dreams

She was a single m ­ other on welfare pursuing her college education, like me a junior-­year sociology major, and very worried about how the recent welfare reform changes would affect her. Georgia’s welfare system was already less than fully supportive of her pursuit of higher education while on welfare, but she had fought her way through the bureaucracy of both the welfare system and the financial aid system to go to college. She had earned an associate’s degree at a community college and transferred to the University of Georgia for her bachelor’s degree. She was fi­nally taking courses to complete her major and was just two years from graduating. Then welfare reform was passed. The new federal welfare policies w ­ ere even worse for participants pursuing education, and she was deeply worried. She openly wondered how the new policies would affect her chance of completing her undergraduate degree. We became friends during that course, and I learned more about her experiences on welfare and in higher education over the next two years. We graduated at the same time in 1998 yet lost touch ­after graduation. Her perspective and perseverance stayed with me. Her trepidation and biting critique of welfare reform resonated.

2001 The Institute for W ­ omen’s Policy Research hosted a feminist social policy conference in Washington, D.C., in June 2001. Welfare reform was approaching its first reauthorization, and feminists from across the country gathered to discuss the upcoming policy ­battle. In one session, single ­mothers from California who had completed higher education while on welfare gave pre­sen­ta­tions about their experiences and their grassroots activism to challenge welfare reform’s restrictive educational policies. They discussed their perspectives on welfare reform, welfare reform’s impact on low-­income single ­mothers in higher education, and their activism on this issue. During that session, a light went on in my head. As a gradu­ate student of sociology at Vanderbilt University, I had just completed my course work and was trying to figure out how to combine my interests in poverty, access to higher education, and gender into a qualitative doctoral dissertation. The session reminded me of my friend from the University of Georgia. A ­ fter that moment, I turned my attention more directly to studying and understanding welfare reform and the experiences of low-­income student parents, especially w ­ omen attending college while on welfare.

2003 The institute hosted another conference in Washington in June 2003, and I attended another panel about welfare reform and access to higher education. At the conference, t­ here was much discussion of the upcoming 2004 election,

Introduction  •  3

and feminists in attendance expressed concern about the stalled reauthorization of the welfare reform legislation. At the session about welfare reauthorization and higher education, the activists from California who had made pre­sen­ta­tions in 2001 discussed their experiences and perspectives. The panel was chaired by the founder and executive director of the grassroots organ­ization Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME), and it included a few ­mothers who ­were leaders of the organ­ization. ­A fter the session, I introduced myself to them. We started chatting about the session and the issues. We went to lunch to talk more. Over the next two hours in the ­hotel’s lobby restaurant, we dug into ­these issues and recognized a shared passion and perspective. I mentioned that I was in the pro­cess of moving to Berkeley, California, and would be living in the University of California, Berkeley’s f­ amily student housing. They invited me to volunteer with their organ­ization to learn more about student parents’ activism u­ nder welfare reform in California. I started volunteering with LIFETIME in October 2003, a­ fter my move to California, and I eventually became a part-­time paid staff person, a position I held u­ ntil December 2006. From LIFETIME’s members I learned about the experiences of low-­income families who participated in California’s welfare program, California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs). The families active with LIFETIME w ­ ere pursuing higher education while on welfare, and I saw directly how they strug­gled through college and with welfare requirements. I learned about welfare rights activism and their experiences working to improve welfare policy.

2006 On a chilly September after­noon in 2006, I met Keisha, a twenty-­year-­old black community college student and ­mother of one. Keisha was six months pregnant with her second child and had been on CalWORKs since the birth of her first. The after­noon we met had been particularly stressful for both of us: I had conducted a morning interview on another campus that had run late and rushed across town through congested traffic to Keisha’s campus. Keisha was late for the interview b­ ecause her two-­year-­old ­daughter was sick. We almost missed each other outside the campus library. However, at the end of the interview, Keisha ­gently grabbed onto my arm, took a deep breath, looked into my eyes, and said, “I r­ eally liked this interview. P ­ eople are always asking me questions. The welfare workers want to know all my business, all my numbers, but they never want to know my story. You wanted to know my story.” She squeezed my arm and left. That moment, and countless o­ thers during my research, illustrates the lived real­ity of ­mothers pursuing higher education ­after welfare reform in the United States: the “reformed” welfare system was more interested in ­women’s “numbers” than their experiences, stories, or perspectives. However,

4  •  Reformed American Dreams

on that September after­noon, Keisha told me not just her numbers but also her story. She explored the meaning of her education, her pursuit of the American Dream, and her journey on welfare.

Welfare Reform and the American Dream A tension emerges when the ideals of the American Dream are contrasted with the realities of welfare reform. A contradiction exists between our collective consciousness and our social policy. Despite a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” discourse, the 1996 welfare reform policies devalued and severely restricted participants’ access to higher education. The reformed policy required low-­income ­mothers to conform to strict regulations and meet stringent work requirements or face severe sanctions. Welfare reform policies arose from prevailing public opinion and false assumptions by politicians that welfare m ­ others ­were morally dif­fer­ent from middle-­class Americans. Welfare reform was based on the assumption that it was necessary to change low-­income single ­mothers’ attitudes about work and responsibility for their ­children. The argument that they had deficient morality presupposed that welfare ­mothers ­were not interested in pursuing the American Dream through hard work or higher education. U.S. welfare reform policy blamed them for their poverty, single-­parent status, and low economic position in society. The deficient morality argument in regard to low-­income single ­mothers is neither new nor l­ imited to the debate about welfare reform. Nor is it supported by extensive research about low-­ income w ­ omen’s lives. To address ­these tensions, I explore the ideology of the American Dream and how it pre­sents a paradox for welfare reform. I examine how extensive changes made to the U.S. welfare system in 1996 prioritized “work first” policies for low-­income parents, mostly single ­mothers, and restricted educational opportunities for t­ hose on welfare. The assumptions about single motherhood that drove the 1996 welfare reforms ­were not novel ideas, but they did reinforce the historical debate over the deserving and the undeserving poor. Welfare reform policy evolved from ­these decades-­old misrepre­sen­ta­tions of motherhood, w ­ omen’s morality, and the role of w ­ omen’s work. The result was the “work first” message of welfare reform. Yet, the real­ity is that low-­income w ­ omen have always worked. The hitch is that ­women’s wages and the conditions of their work are simply not enough to pull a ­family out of poverty—­especially in the U.S. economy ­after welfare reform. And ­these economic conditions are getting worse. The role of higher education is more impor­tant than ever. Some of the least advantaged workers in the American l­abor market—­ welfare m ­ others—­can benefit the most from opportunities to pursue higher education. Therefore, this book studies how ­mothers on welfare pursued higher education as a pathway to the American Dream a­ fter welfare reform. In the

Introduction  •  5

chapters that follow, you ­will read the personal narratives of sixty-­three ­mothers in the San Francisco Bay Area as they explore how and why they pursued their dream of completing higher education while participating in the reformed welfare system. They tell the stories of their academic endeavors and their activism. They relate their experiences a­ fter graduation, building c­ areers, and surviving the ­Great Recession.

Purpose and Central Research Questions A ­simple sentence opens and frames Sharon Hays’s Flat Broke with C ­ hildren: “A nation’s laws reflect a nation’s values.”1 My research started just as Hays’s iconic book was published, and my study builds on hers by finding that although our nation believes in higher education for the m ­ iddle class, it legislates work first for the poor. In Jennifer Hochschild’s study of low-­income African Americans, she found that “most poor blacks . . . ​see two paths to achieving their dreams: education and work.”2 Most of the w ­ omen in my research had worked at some point before ­going on welfare, and that work was not helping them achieve their dreams. In many cases, their work was not even enough to get them out of poverty. My book takes up the tensions between the ideology of the American Dream and the reformed welfare system. I explore the ideologies of the American Dream and the 1996 welfare reforms to frame how m ­ others on welfare who are pursuing a higher education—­half of whom are student activists—­challenge prevailing assumptions about ­mothers on welfare. ­Mothers on welfare are not morally dif­fer­ent from other Americans, and the frame of the American Dream can explain their actions. They are trying to achieve goals similar to ­those of other Americans, such as providing for their families, by pursuing a higher education. Many Americans value higher education and self-­sufficiency and support the ideology of “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps,” yet welfare ­mothers who are trying to pull themselves up out of poverty through higher education face structural barriers from the welfare system and shaming from society. Therefore, ­these central research questions guided my research: What ­factors lead ­mothers to pursue higher education while participating in the reformed welfare system? What challenges do they encounter? What resources help them pursue education? What role do grassroots activism or advocacy social ser­vice organ­izations play? How does being involved in grassroots activism affect their experiences? Are ­women on welfare upwardly eco­nom­ ically mobile ­a fter they complete higher education? How did they fare during and ­a fter the ­Great Recession? What implications do their experiences and perspectives have for changing poverty policy or affecting other social policies? And what does the American Dream mean to them, and how do they pursue it?

6  •  Reformed American Dreams

Research That Reflects Welfare M ­ others’ Lived Experiences In this study, I focused on individual ­women’s experiences of attempting to increase their ­human capital in the face of structural barriers. Instead of focusing on personal barriers through the examination of large data sets, my ethnographic research centers its analy­sis on w ­ omen’s lived experiences, and therefore this study challenges traditional approaches to welfare research. In answering the research questions for this study, I used a grounded theory approach to consider academic perspectives on poverty—­structural theories and ­human capital theory—as m ­ others on welfare explained their “on the ground” experiences in higher education. This allowed the theory to emerge from the data to show which aspects of t­ hese ­women’s lives, if any, support existing poverty and so­cio­log­i­cal theories. Through this exploration, I also drew conclusions about theoretical approaches to poverty that w ­ omen used in their narratives. As some of the most disadvantaged ­people in our society and in higher education, and an underexplored group in sociology, the ­women in this study provide a unique perspective on life choices; social narratives around the role of higher education; the use of h ­ uman, social, and cultural capital; and their rationales for undertaking this endeavor. The research that I engage in is feminist, applied, so­cio­log­i­cal, and activist. I identify myself as a “scholar-­activist,” as articulated most clearly by Sara Goldrick-­R ab.3 I use my skills as a social science researcher to conduct so­cio­ log­i­cal research so that we can engage in creating social policies informed by diverse and high-­quality research. Given this, I am highly critical of the idea of “giving voice” to marginalized populations. I do not give my participants a voice. They have voices—­loud, proud, and strong ones. They use their voices to express their experiences on welfare, in college, and in activism. They use their voices to engage in policy debates. They volunteered to have their voices be part of my research on this topic. They contributed their voices to this proj­ect in the hope that they can make a difference in the social policies that they have lived experiences using. I am a researcher who asked them about their experiences. They told me. And they invited me into their lives to see for myself. The collection of their voices and my analy­sis is what I hoped to write about in this book. Through qualitative longitudinal research in the San Francisco Bay Area, I explored why and how ­mothers pursued higher education while participating in the reformed welfare system. I conducted this ethnographic research in Oakland and San Francisco from October 2003 ­until May 2011 through forty-­five in-­depth qualitative longitudinal interviews in 2006, focus groups with eigh­ teen additional participants in 2007, and ongoing participant observation with a total of sixty-­three m ­ others pursuing higher education while participating in the welfare system. I conducted follow-up interviews in 2008 with twenty-­five of the forty-­five original interview participants. In the spring of

Introduction  •  7

2011, I conducted another round of follow-up interviews with thirty-­five of the original participants, which gives this study a 78 ­percent retention rate. The research participants ­were single ­mothers on CalWORKs with dependent ­children and ­were enrolled in (or had recently graduated from) higher education programs as their welfare work activity. The San Francisco Bay Area was ideal for this research ­because, compared to other states, in California the laws and social policies are generous in allowing educational programs to count as welfare activities u­ nder the TANF program. It was also ideal ­because of the presence of LIFETIME. Founded in 1996, LIFETIME was an in­de­pen­dent nongovernmental organ­ization that was started as a support group for and by ­mothers on welfare who attended the University of California, Berkeley. It grew into a statewide organ­ization and was one of the few grassroots welfare-­rights organ­izations in the United States. Single-­mother families in California accounted for approximately 70 ­percent of the state’s welfare caseload in 2004, and all adults on CalWORKs have dependent ­children. Therefore, single ­mothers are the largest category of adults on welfare in California. In California during the period of this study, approximately 12  ­percent of the state’s welfare-­to-­work single-­parent participants ­were engaged in vocational education, which is primarily how CalWORKs classified participants pursued higher education. The participants ­were enrolled in programs through the California Community Colleges, California State University, or University of California systems, with only a few attending local private colleges. Twenty-­four of the participants ­were involved in LIFETIME as members, clients, or leaders, and the other twenty-­one had no or only minimal involvement with the organ­ization. The participants ranged in age from eigh­teen to fifty-­one, with a median age of thirty-­three. The median number of c­ hildren that participants had at the time of their first interview in 2006 was two. Interview participants ­were recruited on an ongoing basis from the early fall of 2005 u­ ntil the late fall of 2006, through the community colleges and universities located within each county and through LIFETIME. Recruitment was focused on the office on each campus that served students on CalWORKs, such as the Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices (EOPS) and Cooperative Agencies Resources for Education (CARE) offices at the community colleges and the special centers for student parents at the universities. I recruited participants at three sites in Alameda County and two in San Francisco County. The first interviews w ­ ere done in person, usually on the participant’s campus or at the advocacy organ­ization. The early data collection for this study occurred during ongoing policy uncertainty surrounding the TANF program. TANF is required by federal law to be reauthorized ­every five years. The first reauthorization was scheduled for late 2001, which was delayed due to the events of and national response to September 11. A ­ fter eleven temporary extensions over five years, TANF was

8  •  Reformed American Dreams

reauthorized on February 6, 2006, as part of the Deficit Reduction Act of 2005. Therefore, the temporary extensions and eventual reauthorization w ­ ere an ever-­ present concern during the early interviews I conducted. In August and September 2008, with a grant from the National Science Foundation, I conducted follow-up interviews with twenty-­five of the original forty-­five participants. In 2009, I interviewed many of the advocates and advisors who helped introduce me to participants in 2006. In 2011, with a grant from the National Poverty Center, I conducted a final round of follow-up interviews with thirty-­five of the participants. I was able to find more of the participants in 2011 than in 2008 due to social media connections and help from the advocates. The second and third interviews w ­ ere conducted in restaurants, coffee shops, or over the phone, depending upon the participant’s preference. Interviews lasted between thirty minutes and three hours and ­were audiorecorded and transcribed. I used ATLAS.ti qualitative data analy­sis software for coding and analy­sis, using grounded theory.

Chapter Outline In the chapters that follow, I explore w ­ omen’s on-­the-­ground narratives about pursuing higher education while in the reformed welfare system and their activism to change welfare policy. In chapter 1, “Reforming the American Dream,” I discuss academic theories of poverty and the history of welfare policy and explore how welfare reform affected access to higher education for low-­income ­mothers. The American Dream permeates the national collective consciousness with demo­cratic and meritocratic values, but it also promotes cap­i­tal­ist and materialistic values as normative. The American Dream focuses on middle-­class values and provides a frame for middle-­class Americans to pursue ­these goals. Yet what does our current social safety net indicate about the ideals of the American Dream? What are our national assumptions about how low-­income ­people should pursue it? To address t­ hese tensions, this chapter examines how extensive changes in 1996 to the U.S. national welfare system prioritized “work first” policies for low-­income parents, mostly single ­mothers, and restricted educational opportunities for ­those on welfare. Chapter  1 demonstrates that ­mothers on welfare are not morally dif­f er­ent from their more affluent counter­ parts and that their decision making is also rooted in the ideology of the American Dream. In chapter 2, “Pathways onto Welfare and into College,” the w ­ omen in this study found themselves at a point in their life where they recognized that they ­were faced with multiple barriers to self-­sufficiency and wanted to change course. This led them to apply for welfare and enroll in higher education. Th ­ ese two events happened in any order, sometimes very close together in time and sometimes years apart. The ­mothers’ circumstances that led them onto welfare

Introduction  •  9

and into higher education challenge the commonly used frame in research ­after welfare reform: the barriers to employment or self-­sufficiency argument. As this chapter ­will illustrate, the m ­ others in this study experienced multiple barriers to self-­sufficiency, yet they enrolled in and completed higher education nonetheless. Many oft-­cited barriers in the lit­er­a­ture since welfare reform s­ haped the circumstances of the ­women in this study as they pursued higher education while on welfare. The ­mothers did not view their situations as barriers but as necessary experiences to pursuing higher education. The ­women made a conscious choice to return to school despite the welfare system’s prodding them into “work first” activities. Participants cited one of five situations as the central reason they applied for welfare and enrolled in higher education: surviving domestic vio­lence, prolonged unemployment, recovery from substance abuse, an unexpected pregnancy, and balancing unmarried partnerships. This chapter concludes with a discussion of how ­these circumstances do not prove ­mothers’ individual deficiencies but instead illuminate social structural inequalities and social policy failures in our society. Chapter  3, “Reformed Grassroots Activism,” explores how LIFETIME engaged in grassroots activism a­ fter welfare reform and how m ­ others on welfare come to be involved with grassroots welfare-­rights organ­izing and to develop an activist consciousness. The chapter opens with vignettes of the organ­ization’s protests and po­liti­cal work and then describes the varying levels of participants’ engagement with the organ­ization: as parent leaders, clients, and potential participants. One of the central research questions that drove this proj­ect asked how the narratives of ­mothers involved with grassroots advocacy and activism differed from t­ hose who w ­ ere not involved. Participation in grassroots advocacy organ­izations helped the m ­ others on welfare that I interviewed by providing them with peer-­based emotional and advocacy support and empowering them to externalize the shame associated with being on welfare. In addition, this chapter examines the ways that the LIFETIME m ­ others’ narratives differed from the narratives of ­mothers who ­were not involved with the organ­ization. In chapter 4, “Survival through College,” I relate how the m ­ others I interviewed constructed “survival narratives” to give meaning to their strug­gles to pursue higher education while on welfare and to explain how they resisted the reformed policies. To the student m ­ others, survival meant engaging in what­ ever activity they could to provide for themselves and their ­children within their moral framework, while using available resources to complete school and participate in the welfare system. The ­mothers also articulated their on-­the-­ ground survival strategies to meet their families’ material needs. Their survival strategies reveal the social, economic, and personal costs of pursuing higher education while on welfare. This chapter shows how the ­women persevered through school, critically assessed the failures of welfare reform, and used covert

10  •  Reformed American Dreams

forms of re­sis­tance to welfare policies. Their survival narratives illustrate the contradictions between the value of education in American society and the policies of welfare reform—­specifically, how the institutional goals of the two often conflict. The m ­ others’ narratives are individual, as I explore in the first section of the chapter, yet also collective in critiquing the welfare system through grassroots activism, which is explored l­ ater in the chapter, and in other ways. Chapter 5, “My Education Means Every­thing to Me,” considers the meanings and expectations the m ­ others shared about their education. This chapter demonstrates that ­mothers on welfare do not have deviant views of work, marriage, and personal responsibility. Their educations mean every­thing to them, and they pursue higher education to realize normative ideals of the American Dream. The expectations that ­mothers hold for their education resemble the reasons why other Americans pursue higher education: for ­labor market advancement, as role models for their c­ hildren, for self-­empowerment, and to give meaning to their lives. M ­ others reflected on their families’ view of their educational journey and how higher education has affected their c­ hildren. Therefore, the findings of this chapter challenge the prevailing ideas about welfare m ­ others as morally deficient. The m ­ others cited their education as the most effective use of their sixty months of time-­limited welfare aid and believed it would enable them to escape poverty. ­Women in this study provide a unique perspective on educational choices and motivations, expectations about the power of a college degree, and social narratives around the role of higher education. Chapter 6, “Hope and Fear during the G ­ reat Recession,” is based on the second round of interviews that I conducted with participants in August and September of 2008, amid bank bailouts and failures, housing foreclosures, and high levels of unemployment. A moment of national crisis ensued. At the same time, Barack Obama was r­ unning for president. The possibility of electing our first black president gave many Americans, including most of the ­women in this study, ­great hope. Many m ­ others graduated from college that year, ­others transferred to a state university from a community college, and many w ­ ere looking for postcollege career-­track jobs. Participants expressed the profound tensions of this time. This chapter also examines how the grassroots activism that the ­mothers engaged in while in college played a role in their early postcollege experiences or affected their c­ areer or educational goals a­ fter they achieved their first educational goal. M ­ others discussed how they experienced g­ reat hope, deep fear, and ongoing uncertainty. They noted that their feelings w ­ ere profoundly personal, but their anx­i­eties ­were typical of the worries of Americans during the ­Great Recession. This chapter also discusses the impact of the ­women’s education and graduation on their c­ hildren and families. “Graduating into the ­Great Recession,” chapter 7, is based on the third set of interviews that I conducted in the spring of 2011. It examines the

Introduction  •  11

impact of the ­Great Recession on the ­mothers and how their perspectives changed in response to the recession. The meaning of their education, which in chapter 5 was every­thing to them, had changed slightly by 2011: they valued their education as an asset that no one could take away from them, but they expressed their reduced expectations of its power. Furthermore, this chapter explores the question of ­whether participating in grassroots advocacy and activism helps ­mothers better endure economic downturns. My research finds that involvement in grassroots activism helped m ­ others finish higher education programs, but their community involvement and activism while they ­were in college also helped them advance in the ­labor market. This chapter then discusses how the ­mothers’ be­hav­iors and attitudes ­toward money, time, and consumption changed in response to the G ­ reat Recession. Their experience with LIFETIME had a positive impact on their perspectives, be­hav­ior, and economic conditions during the recession. The close of this chapter reflects on what the ­mothers believe our society should learn from the G ­ reat Recession, especially as it relates to economic security for low-­and middle-­income families. In chapter 8, “An American Dream for All,” the closing chapter of the book, I explore how the m ­ others are still pursuing an American Dream, while being critical of the American Dream. The chapter explores what our national safety net could look like if we believed more in the demo­cratic and meritocratic ele­ ments of the American Dream than in the cap­i­tal­ist and materialist ones. Over the course of the research, most of the ­women earned a bachelor’s degree, and several went on to gradu­ate school. They are building ­careers, many of them in advocacy or activism to help other low-­income families. The chapter examines how the ­women who ­were involved in grassroots activism during their education frame their ideas for social policy changes, in comparison to w ­ omen who ­were not involved. A thorough analy­sis of the ­mothers’ perspectives and experiences demonstrates that the quest for the American Dream does not need to be materialistic but instead could include a more robust social safety net, demo­ cratic engagement, and community participation. Given that deep poverty has doubled in the United States in the past twenty years, this group is a touchstone for figuring out what social policies can provide economic security for every­one. This chapter reflects on how expanding access to higher education, creating job market supports for the working poor, extending unemployment assistance, expanding welfare, ensuring the availability of affordable health care, and strengthening transitional child care can help low-­income families move up eco­nom­ically, as well as helping middle-­class ones avoid moving downward. In the afterword, I relate the lessons of this research to grassroots activism in 2018, as p­ eople in the United States and around the world join the fight for social justice and economic opportunity and dream of a better f­ uture for themselves and their families.

1

Reforming the American Dream

The American Dream permeates the national collective consciousness with demo­cratic and meritocratic values, but it also promotes cap­i­tal­ist and materialistic values as normative. It focuses on middle-­class values and provides a frame for middle-­class Americans to pursue ­these goals. Jennifer Hochschild contends that the American Dream has four central tenets: “every­one may always pursue their dream,” “one may reasonably anticipate success,” “the ­will to succeed is part of the American spirit,” and “the pursuit of success warrants so much fervor b­ ecause it is associated with virtue.”1 The ideology constructs American society as a meritocracy wherein individual hard work leads to upward economic mobility. A key ele­ment of meritocracy in relation to the American Dream is hard work and ­career achievement—­and ­going to college is an impor­tant pathway to achieving this dream. Therefore, a college education is a central component of the American Dream. A bachelor’s degree is a key asset in social mobility: p­ eople with bachelor’s degrees earn more in the American ­labor market.2 Studies show that 98 ­percent of Americans think that all p­ eople should have equal access to higher education.3 In The American Dream: A Short History of the Idea That ­Shaped a Nation, Jim Cullen notes that higher education has the power of “transformation” in ­people’s lives for upward economic mobility.4 James Truslow Adams was the first to write about the American Dream, mentioning it in his 1931 The Epic of Amer­ic­ a—­though the concept predates the use of the term. Adams argued that one of Amer­i­ca’s special contributions 12

Reforming the American Dream  •  13

was “that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for ­every man, with opportunity for each according to his ability or achievement.” He went on to explain that the American Dream is not about material achievement per se but is “a dream of a social order in which each man and each ­woman s­ hall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by ­others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position.”5 In Seeking the American Dream, Robert Hauhart explains that Adams’s work “is illustrative of one of the more underrated qualities of the American Dream—­the seductive nature of its under­lying optimism for Americans.”6 In fact, during the G ­ reat Depression, Hauhart notes, “Adams was simply modeling the American Dream’s inherent optimism: this, too, ­shall pass—­and pass quickly—­and the American Dream can then reassert itself with bounty and equal opportunity for all.”7 As Hauhart explains, although Adams’s sentiment was slightly more hopeful than the historical real­ity warranted, his under­lying point—­that the optimism of the American Dream helps p­ eople endure tough economic and personal times—­ helps us understand the role of the American Dream for ­people struggling eco­ nom­ically in the United States. Optimistically, we could argue that many U.S. social policies are based on ­those central tenets of the American Dream—to help ­people who work hard pursue success, opportunity, and economic self-­sufficiency. Social policies such as ­those aimed at increasing access to higher education or helping ­people buy homes are clearly aligned with the American Dream. Even the welfare reform message of “work first” is consistent with the under­lying cultural belief that hard work is necessary to achieve the American Dream. The ideology of the American Dream tells us that it is available to every­one equally. Yet we know that not to be universally true. The opportunity to pursue the American Dream is drastically dif­fer­ent according to p­ eople’s life situations, gender, ethnicity, immigration status, socioeconomic status, sexuality, health, and other personal or social structural positions. In addition, some American social policy changes in the past thirty years are based on the idea that certain groups should not be allowed the same access to this dream. Instead, some social policies punish some groups or prevent them from pursuing this dream ­because of their life circumstances. Policies such as restrictive immigration rules, demeaning regulations for ­people on welfare, restricting access to reproductive ser­vices, and ­until recently, laws against same-­sex marriage block p­ eople from seeking their American Dream. If as a society we are supporting (or not protesting) ­these punitive social policy changes, can we honestly claim that the American Dream exists? If the United States is not ­really a meritocracy, then why do we still believe that it is? Indeed, con­temporary discussions of the American Dream deeply question its core ideals. Critics of the American Dream ask if this ideology is relevant to our

14  •  Reformed American Dreams

con­temporary culture: is the dream achievable in our globalized economy, and do ­people still try to achieve it More cynically, some critics ask if the American Dream is dead. To ­these questions I add ­others: What does the current condition of our social safety net indicate about the ideals of the American Dream? What are the assumptions about how low-­income ­people should pursue the dream? Along the same lines, do politicians believe that ­there is something wrong with families who are poor? Do politicians think that poor families need to embody middle-­class values and work more and harder, pulling themselves up by their bootstraps? If so, is this solution pos­si­ble? Since the 1996 welfare reforms, can hard work alone lift a ­family out of poverty? Furthermore, what role do other central aspects of the American Dream, such as higher education, play in this upward mobility? Specifically, who should be pursuing higher education as a pathway to the American Dream if higher education is intentionally withheld from some groups, such as ­mothers receiving welfare?

Welfare Reform and Ste­reo­types of Poor ­Women Sweeping changes in the 1990s to the U.S. national welfare system prioritized “work first” policies and restricted educational opportunities for ­mothers on welfare. In August 1996, President Bill Clinton signed the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act (PRWORA), into law, creating the Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) program. The Aid to Families with Dependent C ­ hildren (AFDC) and Job Opportunities and Basic Skills (JOBS) programs ­were replaced with block grants to states for the new state-­implemented TANF welfare programs. For example, California implemented the California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs) program on January 1, 1998, in response to federal requirements. Welfare to work was the federal program’s motto, and it required half of participants to engage in work activities. This policy shift, widely referred to as welfare reform, ended welfare as an entitlement program. It added time limits for the receipt of aid and aimed to move participants into work as quickly as pos­si­ble. Consequently, this “work first” emphasis restricted participants’ access to higher education and job training programs. In contrast to the dominant message that most Americans believe about higher education, the message ­mothers on welfare receive from TANF is “work first, education last.”8 Therefore, higher education as a pathway to upward mobility was explic­itly blocked for many of the low-­income w ­ omen with c­ hildren who participated in the welfare system. Growing middle-­class resentment, misconception, and racism directed ­toward welfare benefit recipients in the United States during the 1970s and 1980s had affected the construction of the 1996 welfare reform policies.9

Reforming the American Dream  •  15

Public sentiment has always mischaracterized welfare recipients and made a distinction between the deserving poor (­those we “should” help through public assistance) and the undeserving poor (­those who should not receive assistance). This distinction is based on racist and sexist ste­reo­types, specifically ­those about black ­women—­despite the fact that white ­women are the largest group on welfare. In addition, the stigma of single motherhood erases all positive aspects of a person. Being poor, on welfare, and a single ­mother had such devastating social stigma that it overshadowed ­women’s efforts to get out of poverty. In the late 1980s and early 1990s t­ hese negative ste­reo­types of welfare and conservative rhe­toric about it led to reform efforts and affected how policies ­were constructed.10 During this period politicians and the media, as well as Ronald Reagan (as a candidate and then as president), deployed the derogatory caricature of the “welfare queen” to describe poor ­women who received benefits from the welfare system. This trope demonized black single ­mothers in par­tic­u­lar as lazy and guilty of defrauding the government to access welfare benefits. This caricature was consistently proven inaccurate by extensive social science research on low-­income m ­ others, but it continues to affect policy making and public opinion about welfare and poverty issues. The caricature continues to be used: for example, Netflix premiered a series called GLOW in 2017, which included a character called Welfare Queen. The depiction of the welfare queen si­mul­ta­ neously perpetuates and critiques this misrepre­sen­ta­tion. As Tonya Mitchell adeptly notes about the caricature and the treatment of low-­income m ­ others, “poor ­women are feared, blamed, mocked, ridiculed, and punished in U.S. media and society, and hence in public policy.”11 Maura Kelly agrees, finding that “the controlling image of welfare m ­ others consists of racist ste­reo­types that represent ­women on public assistance as childlike, hyperfertile, lazy, and bad ­mothers. The construction of this controlling image from sexist and racist ste­ reo­types, myths, and moral judgments served to publicly justify the dismantling of public assistance programs and institute increased regulations on recipients.”12 Welfare reform became an opportunity to enact policies that sought to control the poor, especially nonwhite ­women. For example, the “­family cap” policy played into the racist myth that black w ­ omen on welfare have more babies just to get a bigger welfare check. Therefore, the new welfare reform provision stipulated that a ­woman would not receive any benefits for any new ­children she had while receiving welfare. This provision thereby controlled poor w ­ omen’s reproductive freedom based on racist myths of black ­women’s childbearing.13 Social science research, such as Elaine Bell Kaplan’s Not Our Kind of Girl, illustrates how black single ­mothers more generally are stigmatized, demonized, and scapegoated for a variety of con­temporary social prob­lems such as teenage pregnancy, high divorce rates, child poverty, drug addiction, and unemployment.14 Racist and sexist ste­reo­t ypes merge with public disdain for welfare

16  •  Reformed American Dreams

recipients and are projected onto poor black m ­ others. As Yvonne Luna explains, “­because of the negative social constructions associated with welfare, to many, the punitive nature of the policy seems justified.”15

The Deserving and Undeserving Poor The central under­lying assumptions about low-­income ­women’s morality and the idea that not all ­women deserved public assistance have been pre­sent since the beginning of the social program, although the explicit and vitriolic way that false assumptions about poor w ­ omen’s morality ­were incorporated into the 1996 welfare reform policies was surprising. The history of welfare policy in the United States illustrates two points: first, that welfare policy has always distinguished between the deserving and the undeserving poor; and second, that as the welfare debate focused more on the undeserving poor, the policy shifted from monetary supports to a system that required participants to earn their welfare check.16 When the Social Security Act of 1935 was signed into law by President Franklin D. Roo­se­velt, it included the first federal grants to states to create what we now refer to as “welfare.” The Aid to Dependent C ­ hildren (ADC) program was created to provide federal support for maternal and child welfare ser­vices. The intent of the program was originally to provide aid to ­widows to care for their dependent c­ hildren. However, it was based on the m ­ others’ pension policies that many states and localities had enacted in the twenty years leading up to the Social Security Act. A problematic aspect of the ­mothers’ pension policies carried over into the new welfare program, which valued the caregiving work of some m ­ others over that of o­ thers—­specifically, the work of white, married, middle-­class w ­ omen.17 The original welfare policy was based on the idea that ­women ­were dependents, in much the same way that ­children ­were. Therefore, if w ­ omen ­were not supported by men’s wages, they needed to be supported or to depend on the government to provide for them while they cared for their ­children. However, only w ­ omen in the appropriate racial, cultural, and moral categories w ­ ere worthy of assistance. This is the heart of the deserving poor argument: some poor families deserve aid, while ­others do not. In the 1930s, only white, middle-­class ­widows w ­ ere viewed as dependents, and only their care work was considered worthy of being supported. Therefore, the concept of the deserving poor was implicit in the original welfare policy, and ­mothers who did not meet specific racial, cultural, or moral criteria w ­ ere excluded.18 A 1939 amendment to the Social Security Act created the Survivors’ Insurance Program, which gave benefits to ­widows and minor ­children a­ fter the death of a socially insured worker.19 This amendment essentially separated single ­mothers into two categories: ­widows and every­one ­else. With ­widows covered u­ nder the Survivors’ Insurance Program, ADC now provided benefits only

Reforming the American Dream  •  17

to ­women who ­were divorced or never married. This further cemented the distinction between the deserving and undeserving poor. Moreover, ADC’s benefits w ­ ere significantly lower than the benefits of any other programs ­under the Social Security Act. By the end of the 1940s, welfare had become the “sharply and overtly politicized” topic that it remains ­today.20 Although Roo­se­velt meant the Social Security Act to ensure economic security for all, welfare very quickly became a magnet for vicious debate, attracting arguments about who qualifies as the deserving poor.21 The welfare rolls increased slowly in the 1940s, mainly due to overt efforts to keep African Americans, especially t­ hose in the South, off welfare.22 By the early 1950s, states had enacted a series of discriminatory policies and ­adopted exclusionary practices that kept many African Americans from applying for or receiving welfare aid for which they would have other­wise been eligible. ­These state policies and practices further illustrate the cultural bias leading many to believe that African Americans w ­ ere the undeserving poor. As the p­ eople on welfare during this time shifted from white ­widows with ­children to a more racially diverse group of ­women with varying reasons for needing aid, questions of who was deserving remained at the center of the conversation. In 1950, Congress fi­nally added federal benefits to ADC for ­mothers; ­until then, families had received money only for ­children. Also in the 1950s, two contradictory mea­sures w ­ ere taken. States continued to enact exclusionary policies to limit welfare receipt to suitable families. Caseworkers implemented t­ hese policies by scrutinizing the everyday ­house­hold management of ­women who ­were on welfare through man-­in-­the-­house rules, midnight raids, and home inspections.23 Th ­ ese rules and regulations w ­ ere meant to police the everyday lives and regulate the be­hav­ior of poor w ­ omen and families. They w ­ ere based on the inaccurate racist and sexist assumptions that have always misguided welfare policy. This further regulated and subjugated ­women who received aid and prevented many from applying. However, federal efforts to expand welfare eligibility and allocations, such as allowing agricultural and domestic workers to apply, occurred at the same time. Th ­ ose efforts increased the rolls each year, and many of the new recipients ­were African American. Furthermore, the 1956 amendments to the Social Security Act included efforts to rehabilitate poor ­people and began broadening ADC’s focus to include social ser­vices as well as income support.24 The 1960s illustrated how the federal government and the states w ­ ere “out of sync” on welfare policies.25 The 1962 Social Security amendments stressed ­women’s employment and the rehabilitation of poor families through social ser­vices, and “ADC receipt was for the first time, defined as a brief state, temporary assistance while the ­mother prepared for a job.”26 It also provided funding for child care. However, at the same time as the federal government expected ­women to go to work, most state and local welfare departments still

18  •  Reformed American Dreams

operated u­ nder the assumption that w ­ omen w ­ ere dependents.27 Th ­ ese opposing views caused confusion for ­people on welfare as well as for ­those implementing welfare policy. As a result, employment for ­mothers on welfare was never fully emphasized. Re­sis­tance to welfare policy, inconsistent implementation, and racism by caseworkers grew, and the grassroots welfare rights movement was born. Changes to the federal program, now called AFDC, rejected ADC’s original purpose of providing assistance for ­mothers to stay home with their ­children and instead focused on work incentives and job training. Grassroots organ­izing in the 1960s and early 1970s continued in response to the conflicting, demeaning, racist, and judgmental welfare policies at the state and federal levels. Welfare rights groups across the country or­ga­nized u­ nder the umbrella of the National Welfare Rights Organ­ization. The organ­ization’s grassroots efforts, combined with the efforts of activist ­lawyers litigating welfare rights cases, increased the basic rights of p­ eople receiving welfare.28 In 1968 the Supreme Court’s ruling in the first case it heard about welfare, King v. Smith, abolished Alabama’s man-­in-­the-­house rules, outlawing similar rules in all of the states. The welfare rolls grew as activists helped eligible families apply—­many of whom had previously been excluded or discouraged from applying by county welfare offices.29 The first welfare work requirements w ­ ere added to AFDC in 1967, but with no funding or enforcement, they ­were largely ignored.30 A shift in the perspective of middle-­class Americans and politicians occurred during the 1970s: welfare ­mothers ­were negatively depicted as dependent upon federal assistance programs and blamed for increasing the tax burden on the m ­ iddle class.31 Hostility ­toward welfare policy grew in the 1970s as the national economy was in recession and wages decreased. In presidential campaign speeches, Reagan’s depiction of w ­ omen on welfare as “welfare queens” vilified welfare recipients and compounded existing hostility. This shift in public perception encouraged welfare reforms “aimed at reducing welfare de­pen­dency, rather than reducing poverty itself.”32 Policy changes made in the 1980s brought the idea of education and job training to the welfare population. Job training programs at that time focused on the economic circumstances of men; however, this changed in the 1980s for a very brief period.33 Welfare ­mothers ­were encouraged to seek adult basic education, community college, and job training courses. Kathleen Shaw, Sara Goldrick-­R ab, Christopher Mazzeo, and Jerry Jacobs point out that “­today education and training strategies are advocated only by the most liberal politicians, although a short generation ago they seemed like rather mild and l­ imited mea­sures” to alleviate poverty.34 As Paul Attewell and David Lavin have argued, “higher education, which was once an alternative for many welfare and poor ­mothers, largely dis­appeared from the policy agenda,” and “welfare reformers overlooked

Reforming the American Dream  •  19

an impor­tant option for breaking the cycle of disadvantage.”35 As access to education and training programs expanded for low-­income adults, a growing conservative movement si­mul­ta­neously focused on welfare as a system that created de­pen­dency for participants who w ­ ere morally dif­fer­ent from other Americans. With the 1984 publication of Losing Ground, Charles Murray was one leader of this faction. He argued that welfare had ruined the poor and advocated that it be abolished.36 The movement to radically change welfare grew from both the right and the left. In 1988, the ­Family Support Act was passed as an attempt to reform AFDC in the most comprehensive way since the latter’s passage in 1935.37 The new law focused on work first, with the goal of moving participants into jobs, and it required states to have 20 ­percent of their caseloads participating in work activities. The law focused on a ­simple philosophy of “spend more, demand more.”38 ­Under the law, welfare rolls increased to a historic high, with welfare reaching more than five million families by the spring of 1994. However, even before this new policy was fully implemented, while campaigning for president in October 1991, Bill Clinton pledged that “in a Clinton administration ­we’re ­going to put an end to welfare as we know it.”39 ­A fter his election, Clinton was u­ nder po­liti­cal pressure to keep his pledge and worked with aides to craft a new policy. This pro­cess occurred in a climate in which “the human-­capital ideals that ­were vital parts of the 1980s consensus on poverty became increasingly discredited,” and the work first idea was further developed and took root.40 Conservatives, most notably Lawrence Mead, argued that education and training only delayed work for welfare participants and “shielded the poor from the realities of the l­abor market and permitt[ed] them to aspire to jobs that w ­ ere beyond their reach, rather than accept the ‘menial jobs actually available to them.’ ” 41 In a climate in which “every­body hates welfare,” the concept of “work first” prevailed amid heated po­liti­cal debates and state demonstration proj­ects.42 Republicans gained control of Congress in 1994 and felt that their time had come to make a “radical conservative reform of welfare” at a time when “Clinton supported a moderate reform but felt bound to sign the more radical PRWORA,” ­because “other­ wise his chances of reelection in 1996 might have been threatened.”43

Welfare-­to-­Work and Research a­ fter Welfare Reform Reformed policy primarily focused on work and marriage as routes off welfare. The four goals of PRWORA ­were to “1) provide assistance to needy families so that ­children may be cared for in their own homes or in the homes of relatives; 2) end the dependence of needy parents on government benefits by promoting job preparation, work, and marriage; 3) prevent and reduce the incidence of out-­ of-­wedlock pregnancies and establish annual numerical goals for preventing

20  •  Reformed American Dreams

and reducing the incidence of t­ hese pregnancies; and 4) encourage the formation and maintenance of two-­parent families.”44 As the goals show, policy makers concentrated on two primary individual-­level strategies for ­women to leave the welfare rolls ­after the passage of PRWORA: get married or get a job. Politicians believed that ­women who received welfare needed encouragement in ­these areas—­a carrot-­and-­stick approach. The marriage strategy was considered crucial by policy makers and was a primary objective of PRWORA.45 The Healthy Marriage Initiative’s website stated that “in order to encourage States to strengthen marriages, Congress stipulated that three of the four purposes of the TANF block grant to states be ­either directly or indirectly related to promoting healthy marriages.”46 States ­were allowed to use TANF block grant money to give cash incentives to ­mothers who got married while on welfare (as Pennsylvania and Wisconsin did) and grants to organ­izations engaged in marriage promotion activities such as providing relationship classes. In regard to the “work first” focus of welfare reform, policy changes w ­ ere built on two primary assumptions about welfare and work: welfare participants ­were not working, and they only needed to find and keep jobs to get out of poverty; and full-­time, year-­round work leads to economic self-­sufficiency.47 Neither assumption was supported by social science research, and neither included education as a central component to leaving welfare. The first assumption depicts the relationship between welfare and work as mutually exclusive: a ­family was ­either on welfare or working. In fact, welfare and work coexist, since many jobs pay wages so low that a ­family still qualifies for cash welfare aid in most states. In California in January 2005, just as this study began, 30.3 ­percent of the 177,104 families on CalWORKs ­were working in unsubsidized employment and receiving cash welfare. Mary Corcoran, Sandra Dan­ zinger, Ariel Kalil, and Kristin Seefedt have argued that “about half of all AFDC ­mothers worked at some point while receiving welfare, with work accounting for about one half to two thirds of all welfare exits.”48 As Alice O’Connor puts it, “the real­ity . . . ​is that welfare recipients have always worked” and that for most, “welfare is a temporary stopgap, part of a broader income strategy that takes them between paid, low-­wage, low-­benefit employment and the welfare rolls.”49 The second assumption is that full-­time, year-­round work leads to economic self-­sufficiency, so welfare families just need to get jobs to get out of poverty. Yet 25–40 ­percent of w ­ omen who left the AFDC program in the early 1990s for a job returned within a year, and approximately 70 ­percent returned within five years.50 Thus, a more accurate understanding of the relationship of welfare to work is that welfare and low-­wage work are transient states.51 Furthermore, in a 2003 study of families in California, Diana Pearce and Jennifer Brooks found that “more than one out of four h ­ ouse­holds with one

Reforming the American Dream  •  21

full-­time, year-­round worker have an income that is below economic self-­ sufficiency,” and “one out of five ­house­holds with two working adults have an income that is inadequate to meet basic needs.”52 Gregory Acs, Katherin Ross Phillips, and Daniel Mc­Ken­zie found that “one half of all non-­elderly persons living in families with incomes below twice the poverty line are in working poor families,” and “on average, the primary earner in a working poor ­family works full-­time, year-­round.”53 The Department of ­Labor classifies 7.4 million adults in the United States as “working poor,” which it defines as “­those who spent at least 27 weeks in the l­ abor force . . . ​, but whose incomes fell below the official poverty threshold.”54 When this research began, ten years a­ fter the passage of PRWORA, many ­people ­were calling welfare reform a success. One of the main reasons for this claim is that the number of families on welfare had decreased by over half since TANF was enacted, from over five million families on welfare in 1996 to just over two million families on TANF in 2007. Yet the national poverty rate over the same time period did not decline significantly, and in some years it actually increased. The number of families in poverty in 1996 was around 36.0 million, and in 2007 it was slightly higher, at 36.5 million.55 The poverty rate in 1996 was around 14 ­percent and was just slightly lower at the beginning of this research in 2006, at 12.3 ­percent.56 Since poverty was not decreasing significantly, but the number of families on welfare was, some researchers (including me) questioned the logic of calling welfare reform a success. Moreover, none of the four stated goals of welfare reform outlined in PRWORA focused on reducing or ending poverty for the five million ­people who received assistance when TANF was created. Clinton’s promise to “put an end to welfare as we know it” was fulfilled by changing the policy assumptions that the program was built on, but the consequence of t­ hese changes did not end poverty as we know it. Instead, it “pushed many a dependent ­family into the already swelled ranks of the working poor” without a safety net.57 TANF was created on the assumption that “work first” ends poverty. PRWORA focused on ­women’s getting any job to get off welfare as quickly as pos­si­ble, no ­matter how low the wages. Yet the consequence has been that welfare participants get jobs paying poverty-­level wages (that is, wages below the self-­sufficiency level) with no health insurance, opportunity for c­ areer advancement, or opportunity to achieve long-­term economic self-­sufficiency.58 As Robert Moffitt found in 2002, “the incomes of ­women leaving welfare [for work] are only slightly above what they w ­ ere when the w ­ omen w ­ ere on welfare.”59 Furthermore, welfare reform included limits on the maximum length of time that a participant could receive aid over a lifetime. Th ­ ese time limits are capped at sixty months by federal TANF regulations, and in some states the time is as short as twenty-­four months.

22  •  Reformed American Dreams

Moreover, although extreme poverty is decreasing internationally, troublingly in the United States it has increased dramatically since welfare reform.60 Representatives of the United Nations toured the United States in fall 2017, investigating this issue.61 Previous research in this area, including mine, indicates that policy decisions and implementation of welfare reform policies since 1996 have resulted in families having significantly less of a social safety net when they fall into extreme poverty. When ­women leaving welfare with ­little or no education beyond high school take low-­wage jobs, they do not become eco­nom­ically self-­sufficient.62 As a consequence, m ­ others on welfare are caught alternating between low-­wage work that is insufficient for economic survival and a welfare system that is much worse. Corcoran and coauthors find that “this volatility means that only a minority of recipients establish long-­term full-­time work patterns.”63 For ­women to permanently earn their way off welfare, they must obtain living-­wage jobs. Jilynn Stevens explains that “jobs that provide an income sufficient to support a f­amily are located in a ­labor market requiring workers with sophisticated skills that, for the most part, can be obtained only through post-­secondary education.”64 Therefore, if we are to better understand how w ­ omen on welfare might pursue postsecondary education ­after welfare reform, more research is needed that (like this study) examines why w ­ omen on welfare who have already pursued higher education made that choice and how they succeeded despite the barrier of “work first.” A first wave of studies conducted ­after welfare reform focused on the w ­ omen who had left welfare for work and ­were characterized as “leaver” studies by many researchers. Many of t­ hose studies focused on how welfare participants left the welfare rolls but did not necessarily leave poverty. However, in the second wave of research ­a fter welfare reform, as Susan Lambert has referred to the next cohort of studies, scholars paid attention to the quality of life of low-­income families a­ fter leaving welfare for work, particularly the psychological well-­being of low-­income families, and found that “employment in the United States is not a reliable route out of poverty.”65 By the start of the G ­ reat Recession, many low-­income single m ­ others had exhausted their lifetime limits on aid. As the United States entered the biggest economic downturn since the ­Great Depression, it had high levels of national unemployment and l­ ittle to no aid from the social safety net available to workers who had exhausted their time limits since welfare reform was implemented. By 2011, I would argue that a third wave of research ­after welfare reform had begun, with studies asking during and ­after the ­Great Recession, what happened to ­women who left welfare for work? In this third wave of research, we also need to ask how did former welfare ­mothers who completed higher education while on welfare fare, compared to t­ hose who did not?

Reforming the American Dream  •  23

Welfare ­Mothers and Higher Education Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Rebekah Smith argue that the role of higher education as h ­ uman capital development “is well established and rarely questioned in our society, u­ ntil it is applied to the welfare population.”66 In the first three years ­after the TANF legislation was enacted, the number of welfare participants enrolled as students in colleges and universities nationally plummeted, from 650,000 in 1996 to around 358,000 in 1999.67 Shanta Pandey, Min Zhan, Susan Neely-­Barnes, and Natasha Menon note that “TANF tightens the definition of work preparation by limiting the fraction of participants who can be in school, and increases the minimum number of weekly hours of work needed to meet the requirement.”68 Therefore, “­because of statutes that limit their access to education and training, particularly at the post-­secondary level, millions of would-be students have been blocked from t­hese programs, making welfare one of the few contexts in modern American life in which education is explic­itly discouraged.”69 As a result, “limiting access to higher education forces [­women] to accept low-­wage jobs, often providing incomes below the poverty line, thus continuing the devastating effects of poverty.”70 Opportunities for welfare m ­ others to pursue higher education continued to decrease ­after welfare reform’s implementation. In 2006, ­after almost ten years of TANF, Avis Jones-­DeWeever and Barbara Gault found that, faced with the pressure of balancing work and child-­care responsibilities, bureaucratic hurdles, and college classes, tens of thousands of welfare participants abandoned their aspirations for higher education only to face a cycle of low-­wage work and perpetual poverty.71 TANF allowed states to count only participants’ first twelve months of vocational education to meet work participation requirements. However, some states allowed participants to pursue postsecondary education beyond twelve months. Five states, including California, “made substantial provision for post-­secondary education for TANF-­eligible clients.”72 ­Under CalWORKs, an adult on welfare was allowed a maximum of twenty-­four months for education or job training programs. Yet w ­ omen’s wages are generally so low that most ­women with c­ hildren need at least a bachelor’s degree to earn enough to support their families. Higher education is a critical way in which individual ­women can raise their earnings. For example, a widely used mea­sure of earnings needed to support a ­family is the self-­sufficiency standard.73 Using this standard, the self-­sufficiency wage for Alameda County (which contains Oakland), California, in 2011—­the county where and the last year when this research was conducted—­was a mean of $59,855 for a single ­mother with two ­children, depending upon the age of the ­children (range $38,817–­$77,134). According to the Department of ­Labor, the 2011 average annual earning of ­women with some college or an associate’s degree is approximately $43,940;

24  •  Reformed American Dreams

t­ hose with a bachelor’s degree on average earn $51,272 annually.74 Therefore, ­women need at least some college to earn enough to support themselves and their ­children. However, being able to pursue a bachelor’s degree is no longer pos­si­ble in most states ­after welfare reform. The existing research finds that higher education for w ­ omen on welfare leads to increased wages and employment opportunities, usually leading to economic self-­sufficiency.75 Studies consistently concluded that the majority of w ­ omen on AFDC—­which allowed for a variety of educational programs for adults, including higher education—­who pursued associate’s and bachelor’s degrees w ­ ere able to get off and stay off welfare. Marilyn Gittell, Jill Gross, and Jennifer Holdaway found that “­those who completed a four-­year degree w ­ ere most likely to have left welfare for stable employment and to be earning enough to support a f­ amily.”76 The same authors found that 100 ­percent of bachelor’s degree gradu­ates ­were off welfare.77 The authors interviewed students on AFDC from six states (Illinois, New York, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Washington, and Wyoming), finding that 81 ­percent of them had been employed since graduation and that 70 ­percent considered their college degree to have been essential in securing their current job.78 Thus, postsecondary education while on AFDC that resulted in ­mothers’ earning an associate’s or bachelor’s degree appears to have increased wages for ­mothers on welfare. Research further indicates that the level of education ­matters, especially the difference between having a bachelor’s degree and less education.79 Although ­mothers who earn a bachelor’s degree earn the most, Anita Mathur found that even ­women with a two-­year associate’s degree experienced significant earnings increases and that welfare m ­ others who earned an associate’s degree increased their wages by an average of five times over what they had earned before entering college.80 Furthermore, Mathur found that the type of associate’s degree students earn influences wages. “Vocational Associate degree holders have approximately 25 ­percent greater median annual earnings than non-­vocational Associate degree holders,” especially nursing or dental and business associate’s degrees, whose holders earn the most.81 In addition, associate’s degrees have a higher economic payoff than vocational certificates, and in terms of economic self-­sufficiency, only the longer certificate programs (more than thirty units) have been proven to raise wages above self-­sufficiency levels.82 Since the rhe­toric surrounding welfare reform emphasizes “work first,” one of the main arguments against higher education for welfare participants is that while they are in school, participants delay working and do not develop a work ethic or build a work history. Yet research shows that rather than delaying employment, welfare recipients do work while attending college. ­Mothers on welfare in college have an even higher employment rate than the general wel-

Reforming the American Dream  •  25

fare population in California (56 ­percent versus 44 ­percent).83 Furthermore, welfare recipients who work while in school actually earn more than welfare participants who are also employed but not in school.84 Not only does higher education improve economic and l­abor market outcomes for m ­ others on welfare, but it also increases their self-­esteem and self-­ confidence and their ­children’s likelihood of ­going to college and avoiding poverty.85 Research indicates that higher education leads to empowerment for ­women, and w ­ omen often reported that their self-­esteem and self-­confidence had improved ­after attending college.86 Higher education for welfare m ­ others also benefits their f­ amily members, especially c­ hildren. M ­ others pursuing higher education are investing in both their own ­careers and their ­children’s c­ areers. Parents of younger ­children are able to “provide educationally stimulating environments,” while parents of older ­children “invest time and bureaucratic know-­how as educational man­ag­ers.”87 Erika Kates found that 43 ­percent of participants thought that their relationships, especially with their f­ amily and c­ hildren, improved and “their own enhanced feelings of self-­respect influenced their families.”88 ­Women believed that higher education helped them become more effective role models for their ­children and that pursuing education set a positive example for their ­children and increased the likelihood that the ­children would also pursue higher education.89 Jones-­DeWeever and Gault found that 65 ­percent of California welfare recipients in higher educational programs “indicated that their ­children ­were more likely to express a desire to go to college,” and 32 ­percent “said their ­children w ­ ere now making better grades.”90 Attewell and Lavin found that “a ­mother’s level of educational attainment has a positive effect on her offspring’s likelihood of educational success, net of race, m ­ other’s f­ amily or class background, her IQ, and other f­actors.”91 Furthermore, the authors found that ­women’s parenting changes with higher education. ­Going to college increases the “time and resources” ­women devote to their ­children, increases the access to books and computers in the home, and increases m ­ others’ involvement in and expectations about their ­children’s education. TANF created a barrier for recipients pursuing higher education with its policies that explic­itly ­limited their access to education. TANF ­limited cash aid to a maximum of sixty months, restricting the length of time that welfare recipients can take part in higher education programs, and capped the percentage of recipients in each state who may be enrolled in education or training programs. States also had to meet work participation rates of up to half of their caseloads by 2002, which most states met through caseload reduction credits instead of increasing the number of participants in work programs. If states failed to enact any of ­these policies or meet the work participation goals, they faced millions of dollars in federal fines and lost federal grants. Although my

26  •  Reformed American Dreams

study took place in California, a state that allows longer access to higher education than the TANF regulations do, the federal regulations and policy priorities are still a consideration b­ ecause they affect funding and set overall priorities for the states. In California, TANF was administered by the ­California Department of Social Ser­vices (CDSS) and individual counties implemented it. CDSS pressured counties to increase their work participation rates to help California comply with federal regulations. Although education was legally allowed, individual county welfare offices discouraged many ­people from pursuing educational programs b­ ecause they would not count ­toward the state’s work participation rate. The barriers ­women face while pursuing higher education while on welfare include restrictive welfare regulations,92 work requirements,93 unhelpful caseworkers,94 prob­lems with child care,95 lack of transportation,96 minimal f­ amily or community support,97 and insufficient financial aid.98 ­These barriers can be divided into four categories: welfare regulations that restrict access; unfair or incorrect implementation of the rules by caseworkers; differences in institutional goals between welfare agencies and universities; and insufficient resources necessary for higher education (such as financial aid, child care, transportation, and ­family or community support). By understanding ­these four categories of barriers identified in previous research, advocates can work to change or remove each barrier more effectively. For example, they can see that welfare rules need to be changed to allow w ­ omen to pursue higher education, welfare caseworkers need to be adequately trained on the new regulations, and institutions of higher education should hire staff members to help ­mothers on welfare pursue higher education and connect students to the additional resources they need to complete college. In addition to the overt federal and state welfare policies, cultural and institutional barriers are a significant challenge. Research finds that caseworkers are often unhelpful, hostile, or actively working against the higher education option.99 Another barrier is the culture of universities, which is extremely dif­ fer­ent from the culture of welfare agencies—­creating tremendous conflict for welfare ­mothers.100 The culture of universities protects students’ rights and privacy and focuses on building self-­esteem and economic empowerment. In contrast, welfare agencies maintain a culture of shame, exposing clients’ lives to public scrutiny and examination and ultimately stigmatizing a person for being on welfare. The differences between the culture of welfare agencies and universities are evident in areas that range from student confidentiality, the pace at which students pro­g ress ­toward a degree, students’ choice of programs or majors, the methods by which goals are assessed, and the resources necessary to complete course work.101 Kates found that ­there is a “divergence of culture between educational institutions and caseworkers” that disadvantages welfare parents.102 ­Mothers on welfare who are enrolled in universities get caught

Reforming the American Dream  •  27

between ­these two cultures and often strug­gle to meet welfare regulations while trying not to draw too much attention to themselves or be shamed on campus as students on welfare. Yet the irony is, as Kates explains, that “­were the welfare system’s culture to adopt more of the values and aims of the culture of institutions of higher education, the result would be more than a ‘self-­sufficiency’ culture for welfare; it could approach empowerment.”103 An additional barrier is the insufficient material or support resources available to low-­income students, especially ­those with ­children, in higher education.104 ­These include financial aid, child care, transportation, and ­family or community support. Lacking ­these resources, welfare students experience hardships that most institutions of higher education, such as community colleges or universities, are ill equipped to ­handle. ­These institutions are constructed with assumptions about what it means to be a student and do not take into account the variety of responsibilities that many m ­ others on welfare have. As Nancy Naples has noted, “when we shift to the arena of higher education we find that college campuses and academic policies are built upon the assumption that students are unencumbered with caretaking responsibilities in the home.”105 Jillian Duquaine-­Watson addresses this issue by creating a resource guide for student parents in the appendix to her Mothering by Degrees.106 And Autumn Green examines best practices of student parent programs and how to build co­ali­tions of student parent advocates through the National Center for Student Parent Programs to share this expertise.107 Both of t­ hese studies ­were ­under way at the same time as mine. Although we did not know of each other’s work at the time, our work can now be thought of as “­sister studies” ­because we explored dif­fer­ent but related aspects of the experiences of low-­ income m ­ others pursuing higher education. In conclusion, l­ittle is known about why w ­ omen choose to pursue higher education while on welfare or how they come to be both on welfare and enrolled in school. Most of the studies cited in the discussion above do not address the pro­cess of m ­ others on welfare g­ oing to school.108 My study addresses four primary gaps in the current lit­er­a­ture. First, it addresses a gap in the gendered poverty lit­er­a­ture: although the role of education and training programs is often mentioned by other studies, the narratives of w ­ omen in higher education while on welfare have not been a central focus of inquiry. Second, although the outcomes of ­women on welfare in higher education have been studied, how the reformed TANF policies affect w ­ omen’s rationales for pursuing higher education has not. Third, the study addresses the gap in the lit­er­a­ture about the role of grassroots welfare activism on the m ­ others’ narratives about pursuing higher education. Fi­nally, my study focuses on more levels of education than any other previous study. In this research, I interviewed w ­ omen at three levels of higher education (­people in associate’s degree, bachelor’s degree, and master’s degree programs) and examined the narratives they used to explain their educational

28  •  Reformed American Dreams

strategies. By comparing w ­ omen who enrolled in programs at ­those three levels, I was able to explore how ­women with dif­fer­ent educational goals chose education as a strategy to get off welfare and out of poverty.

Creating a Poverty Theory That Reflects Women’s Lived Experiences This study examines how ­mothers on welfare create narratives out of which theory can be built. It used a grounded theory research design, meaning that the data I collected guided the theoretical development instead of vice versa. During the analy­sis of the interviews, appropriate theory emerged to capture ­mothers’ narratives about pursuing higher education while in the welfare system. Kathy Charmaz contends that a “fundamental premise of grounded theory is to let the key issues emerge rather than to force them into preconceived categories.”109 In a grounded theory approach, the data analy­sis and data collection happen iteratively and in an ongoing manner. For more on my data collection and use of grounded theory, see the appendix A. I am interested in how the participants explain their choices in the context of their daily lives, and although I used a grounded theory approach, I entered this study informed by prevailing, yet sometimes competing, academic theoretical frameworks on poverty. ­These theories have dominated the study of low-­income ­women, m ­ others on welfare, and specifically m ­ others on welfare in educational programs. Two academic theories of poverty—­human capital theory and structural theories of poverty—­are relevant in attempting to explain the on-­the-­ground experiences of m ­ others on welfare as they pursue education and job training programs as a route to economic in­de­pen­dence. H ­ uman capital theory offers an explanation of how individuals’ investments in skill acquisition can translate into higher salaries and other returns. It suggests that poor w ­ omen who invest in improving their ­human capital through additional education, extended work experiences, and the acquisition of hard skills (such as degrees and training certificates) and soft skills (such as time management and dressing and speaking professionally) are more likely to move out of poverty. In contrast, the structural explanations of poverty point to many ­labor market and economic ­factors that account for the per­sis­tence of poverty. Structural f­ actors include gaps between the number of jobs needed for full employment and t­ hose that are available, occupational sex segregation, the devaluation of female-­dominated occupations, discrimination, differential educational opportunities, institutional racism and sexism, residential segregation, job decentralization and suburbanization, high unemployment in urban areas, decreases in manufacturing jobs and increases in ser­vice sector jobs, outsourcing of jobs, privatization,

Reforming the American Dream  •  29

and the elimination and reform of social programs. I expected that each of t­ hese theories would contribute to the understanding of poverty by m ­ others on welfare.

­ uman Capital Theory H Previous research on ­mothers on welfare in higher education relies almost exclusively on ­human capital explanations.110 Gary Becker, the economic theorist who identified the relationship between investing in h ­ uman capital and increasing worker earnings, defines h ­ uman capital as “activities that influence ­future monetary and psychic income by increasing the resources in p­ eople.”111 He contends that “education and training are the most impor­tant investments in ­human capital,” and his studies show that “high school and college education in the United States greatly raise a person’s income, even a­ fter netting out direct and indirect costs of schooling, and a­ fter adjusting for the better ­family backgrounds and greater abilities of more educated ­people.”112 Becker argues that the basic assumption that “­human capital investments tend to respond rationally to benefits and costs” is proved correct by the fact that the changes in the investment in w ­ omen’s h ­ uman capital in the 1960s and 1970s in the United States paralleled increases in w ­ omen’s earnings relative to ­those of men.113 Despite the widespread ac­cep­tance of ­human capital theory, it is not extended to welfare participants. Gittell and coauthors find that “even though h ­ uman capital theory is widely accepted in Amer­i­ca, few have noted its relevance to the welfare population,” and therefore, although the research recognizes the value in a ­human capital approach to welfare policy, “the irony of [PRWORA] is that the theory of investing in h ­ uman capital through education is well documented and rarely questioned in our society, ­until it is applied to the welfare population.”114 Shaw and coauthors further assert that “the work-­first ideology now driving federal and state policy directed at the poor ignores, and effectively contradicts, the human-­capital approach characterizing most post-­ secondary educational policy.”115 Notwithstanding the recent policy shift away from using ­human capital approaches to help ­women escape poverty, research on welfare ­mothers in higher education emphasizes this theory and applies it specifically to welfare participants—­assuming that even for welfare recipients, an increase in h ­ uman capital ­will result in higher wages. However, researchers also discuss the structural determinants of poverty and the role t­ hose play in w ­ omen’s lives. Th ­ ese studies acknowledge that welfare m ­ others face many structural barriers, and that they choose to try to change their educational level as a way to overcome ­these barriers. One of the prob­lems with h ­ uman capital theory is that ­human capital investments do not necessarily lead to benefits and costs. Another

30  •  Reformed American Dreams

prob­lem is that the theory inaccurately treats the social structure as rational and without barriers.

Structural Theories of Poverty While ­human capital theory assumes the existence of a social structure that responds rationally to increases in individuals’ ­human capital, structural theories acknowledge that ­there are many irrational barriers that prevent p­ eople from benefiting fully from h ­ uman capital investments and, more specifically, from leaving poverty. Structural theories of poverty focus on how the institutions in society are or­ga­nized to advantage some groups of p­ eople over other groups and to block the opportunities of the less advantaged, regardless of their individual efforts to improve themselves. Structural theories of poverty attribute the per­sis­tence of poverty to educational and ­labor market characteristics such as a lack of jobs for low-­skilled workers, occupational sex segregation, the devaluation of female-­dominated occupations, race and sex discrimination in the ­labor market, differential educational opportunities, declining real wages, and disinvestment in public assistance programs. A structural analy­sis of the ­causes of poverty explains why working welfare participants remain poor and why any job alone, and especially ­those available to ­mothers on welfare, is not enough to raise a worker out of poverty. The American belief in meritocracy, or the idea that hard work results in financial security, does not hold true for t­ hose on welfare or for the poor who are working hard but are far from financial security. Structural shifts in the economy over the past twenty years have moved many of the low-­skilled (but decently compensated) jobs out of the United States to third world countries with less stringent ­labor laws and lower wages. Even when poor ­women are able to find jobs, their earnings alone are not enough to lift a f­ amily out of poverty, despite full-­time year-­round work; and wages for the least skilled workers have been declining for the past thirty-­five years.116 As Rebecca Blank argues, “both the unavailability of jobs for less-­skilled workers and the decreasing returns to work mean that ‘find a job’ is no longer by itself an adequate injunction to many who are poor.”117 In addition, as William Julius Wilson points out, the poor are exposed to “dif­fer­ent structural influences,” and t­ here are “overwhelming obstacles” that the poor need to overcome “just to live up to mainstream expectations involving work, the f­amily, and the law”—­“expectations [that] are taken for granted in middle-­class society.”118 Moreover, ­whether they are on welfare or not, poor working ­women consistently earn less than poor working men, regardless of skill level. The situation of ­women in the ­labor market and within families continues to reflect the institutional sexism that is widespread in our society. As Katherine Newman notes, “working single ­mothers . . . ​are the most likely to be poor—­the poverty rate of families supported by single ­mothers is almost four times that of married-­

Reforming the American Dream  •  31

couple families with at least one worker,” and “single parent families with ­mothers at the helm are almost twice as likely to be poor as families maintained solely by men, a reflection of the weak position of ­women in the ­labor market.”119 While structural theories of poverty focus on the structural barriers facing low-­income w ­ omen who seek economic in­de­pen­dence, the role of individual agency in overcoming t­ hose barriers is often overlooked. The biggest disconnect between the previous uses of the structural theory of poverty and my study is that many of the previous studies do not examine or seek to explain the patterns of lived experiences of ­women pursuing higher education. Past studies illustrated the broader economic picture and w ­ ere able to shape broad social policies. For this study, I focused on how ­mothers on welfare understood and described their experiences. I explored how structural barriers ­were pre­sent in their daily lives, and how they negotiated t­ hose barriers while they strived to improve their ­human capital. This vernacular approach is very similar to Mark Rank’s “new paradigm” for understanding poverty, which highlights the ­human capital components of a structural theory of poverty: A shift of thinking about the c­ auses of poverty from an individually based explanation to a structurally based explanation allows us to distinguish and make sense of two specific questions. First, why does poverty exist? Second, who is more likely to experience poverty? The structural vulnerability explanation, with its musical chairs analogy, answers both questions. Poverty exists primarily ­because t­ here is a shortage of ­viable economic opportunities and social supports for the entire population. Given this shortage, a certain percentage of the population is ensured of experiencing poverty. Individuals with a heightened risk of being on the short end of the economic stick ­will be ­those who are least able to effectively compete for the l­ imited number of economic opportunities. . . . ​ A new paradigm recognizes the fundamental distinctions between understanding who loses out at the game and understanding how and why the game produces losers in the first place.120

Rank’s “structural vulnerability explanation” is an evolution of both the structural theories of poverty and the ­human capital explanations. Through this grounded theory research, the m ­ others’ narratives exposed a theoretical midpoint between t­ hese ideas, similar to Rank’s theories. Aspects of many academic theories of poverty and in­equality appeared in the ­women’s narratives—­they ­were living them. The ­women ­were striving to increase their ­human capital, make themselves less structurally vulnerable in society, and lift their families out of poverty, while fighting for structural changes.

2

Pathways onto Welfare and into College

In the fall of 2006, MMM was in her first semester at the University of California (UC), Berkeley.1 A thirty-­one-­year-­old Latina ­mother of four from southern California, her route to Berkeley had followed a winding path fraught with challenges. Her experience while unusual in some ways, also illustrates the experience of impoverished single ­mothers balancing the competing demands of ­family, work, and self-­empowerment. By the time MMM was seventeen, she had had two c­ hildren with an abusive boyfriend and had dropped out of school. ­After enduring six years of abuse, she left the boyfriend and “went into party mode like girls gone wild” she told me, laughing. She added, “I just started hanging out [and] using a lot of drugs.” A ­ fter the Department of C ­ hildren and ­Family Ser­vices removed her c­ hildren, she turned to crime. A two-­year prison sentence for armed robbery marked the slow start of a change in her fortunes. She completed her GED and received some vocational training in prison, but like many ex-­convicts she fell back into her previous way of life shortly a­ fter release. She briefly re­united with the f­ather of her youn­gest d­ aughter, who was trying to complete his education. As she tells it, “I was like, ah, that’s stupid, blah, blah, blah,” so they separated. Then she met another man, by whom she had her youn­ gest son, and whom she eventually married. Unfortunately, the marriage did not last ­because her husband, a former gang member, resorted to selling drugs to make ends meet. She said: “I was like no, no, no, no! You know? I have two more ­children now, and I have two c­ hildren that are away from me. I would be r­ eally stupid to allow [him] to do that. I was like, no thank you, so he left.” 32

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  33

Once again on her own, she applied for county welfare benefits but soon became determined to find an alternative means of supporting herself and her ­children. A friend suggested that she enroll in a community college. She did so despite caseworkers “telling me no, you ­can’t! And I fought my way through to get it.” MMM wanted only an associate’s degree, but as she excelled in community college, supportive campus staff members encouraged her to pursue a bachelor’s degree. She was reluctant “­because this was a foreign language, ­because nobody in my ­family has ever done anything, so ­those ­aren’t typical questions. It’s kind of like, ‘when are you g­ oing to be done with school?’ ‘When are you ­going to get a job?’ ” She laughed ner­vously. MMM applied to several schools, including UC Berkeley and UC Los Angeles (UCLA), both of which accepted her. She recalled that “my heart was UCLA all the way, and every­one was like, ‘well, ­you’re ­going to go, right?’ And I was like, “why?’ [laughs]. . . . ​I was like bombarded, every­body I worked with [said], ‘you cannot [pass up Berkeley], like UCLA’s ­great, but t­ hose are the ­little bears and you have to go with the big bears’ [laughs]. . . . ​‘You ­can’t tell Berkeley no—­what’s wrong with you?’ ” However, although every­one she knew encouraged her to go to Berkeley, MMM says that she “­didn’t r­ eally understand the significance of it . . . ​the counselors, ­they’re like ‘listen, you have to go, you ­don’t understand how impor­tant it is for you to go to that school.’ And I kind of understood, and sometimes I still ­don’t understand.” Though initially reluctant, she heeded their advice. Adjusting both to the rigor and the unfamiliar environment of California’s flagship university inspired mixed feelings. “I need to be ­here . . . ​­here I am, and I love it, but I’m also scared and intimidated a ­little bit. But I know that if I have to do it one step at a time, I’m g­ oing to do it one class at a time [laughs]. Nothing’s g­ oing to stop me from d­ oing what I want to do.” In the spring of 2012, MMM graduated with her bachelor’s degree from UC Berkeley. By that time she had regained custody of all four of her ­children (she shares custody of the two older c­ hildren with their f­ ather). Her story validates Sharon Hays’s observation that “welfare ­mothers ­weren’t flown in from Mars, and they did not emerge fully formed from their ­mothers’ wombs. Their lives, like our lives, are s­ haped by their experiences and by the economic, cultural, and po­liti­cal structures of this society.”2 Like MMM, the other ­women in this study fluctuated between participating in the institutions of work, welfare, and education while balancing ­family obligations. ­These are “gendered institutions,” meaning that “gender is pre­sent in the pro­cesses, practices, images and ideologies, and distributions of power in the vari­ous sectors of social life.”3 For low-­income ­women like ­those in this study, participating in each gendered institution is intertwined and becomes fluid. Their participation in each gendered institution is not a fixed state but a constantly changing existence and illustrates the structural influences on their

34  •  Reformed American Dreams

lives. The ­women I interviewed ­were, sometimes si­mul­ta­neously, working, on welfare, or g­ oing to school throughout their adult lives. Structural constraints such as the ­labor market and economic ­factors, as discussed in chapter 1, affected the ­women’s daily financial strug­gle and made it difficult for them to escape poverty. For example, the “work first” policy assumption of Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) allowed for only minimal program support to address barriers, especially ­those pertaining to education or job training; ­mental health counseling or domestic vio­lence ser­vices; or work supports such as affordable child care, transportation assistance, and health insurance. Furthermore, the 1996 welfare reform laws assumed that any job would lead to self-­ sufficiency; ­those laws emphasized wage-­earning work over higher education and severely restricted access to higher education.4 Before they applied for welfare, most of the ­mothers in this study worked in low-­paying jobs that yielded neither self-­sufficiency nor economic stability. The dynamics of poverty played out in t­ hese ­women’s lives and eventually put them on trajectories that led them to apply for welfare and enroll in school, notwithstanding the assumptions of policy makers. Their experience contradicts the barriers to employment construction common in the welfare lit­er­a­ture a­ fter passage of the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act (PRWORA) of 1996, which construes the barriers as individual deficiencies rather than as structural inequalities exacerbated by current welfare policies. The prevailing policy idea is that each w ­ oman’s barriers must be identified and addressed sequentially as if they ­were equal forces in the w ­ oman’s life. For example, Krista Olson and LaDonna Pavetti found that 30 ­percent of welfare participants had at least one of the barriers to employment: alcohol or drug addiction, low basic skills, ­mental health prob­lems such as depression, or poor health of the ­mother or child.5 Additionally, a 2008 study of California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs) participants who w ­ ere sanctioned or had time-­ limited welfare found that 89  ­percent of the ­mothers interviewed faced multiple barriers to employment, and “any more than one barrier substantially reduced the likelihood of getting and keeping a job.”6 The barriers frame is also prominent in large-­scale welfare research proj­ects, especially the studies done by MDRC,7 which titles its welfare policy research concentration “welfare and barriers to employment.”8 However, as Jason DeParle has explained, “the focus on barriers goes only partway in explaining who works and who ­doesn’t . . . ​the more barriers a poor ­mother has, the less likely she is to work: yet plenty of w ­ omen work despite multiple obstacles.” Within this frame, “the implicit logic [is] you fix the barriers and then go to work.”9 However, as DeParle acknowledged, many ­women who face multiple barriers still manage to work. Erika Kates has argued that the “barriers to employment” frame

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  35

guides research so as to advance a “small shift in perception [that] is impor­ tant, b­ ecause how the barriers are framed shapes the type and scope of potential policy solutions.”10 This chapter takes up Kates’s argument by reframing ­these “barriers to employment” as categories of experience that contextualize ­women’s rationales and trajectories for applying for welfare and enrolling in higher education. As MMM’s narrative illustrates, pathways onto welfare and into higher education can be at once winding and fraught, but all of them lead to a crossroads at which a ­mother decides ­whether or not to pursue higher education while on welfare. Some of the pathways in this chapter are also pre­sent in other studies of how ­women come to apply for welfare, yet this is the first study to examine the pathways that ­mothers took to the intersection of applying for welfare and enrolling in higher education. The w ­ omen in this study found themselves at this crossroads, where they recognized that they ­were not overcoming multiple barriers to self-­sufficiency and they wanted to change course. This led them to apply for welfare and enroll in higher education—­two events that could happen in ­either order and be very close together in time or years apart. Many of the barriers that are often cited in the welfare lit­er­a­ture a­ fter reform are actually central to the routes that the ­women in this study report taking as they came to pursue higher education while on welfare. The m ­ others did not view their situations as barriers but as necessary steps on their pathway to pursuing higher education. The role that ­these barriers played in the w ­ omen’s lives was more that of a turning point that got them moving along the pathway to higher education. The ­women each reached that point and made a conscious choice to pursue higher education despite the welfare system’s prodding them into “work first” activities. Themes that illustrate social structural influences emerge in examinations of ­these w ­ omen’s trajectories and rationales for applying for welfare and enrolling in higher education. Th ­ ese pathways required navigating one or more of five dif­fer­ent categories of experience: surviving domestic vio­lence, enduring prolonged unemployment, recovering from substance abuse, coping with an unexpected pregnancy, and living in an unmarried partnership. Their pathways demonstrate the mix of opportunity and constraint inherent in the gendered institutions in which their lives are embedded. MMM and the other ­women in this study told me about their experiences, complex lives, and t­ rials that led them to seek a new ave­nue for their ­f uture. Their decision to pursue higher education while on welfare was not the easiest path, but it was the one they believed could get them out of poverty. This chapter highlights how social and institutional structures intersect with individual agency.

36  •  Reformed American Dreams

Domestic Vio­lence Lele, a thirty-­seven-­year-­old black ­mother of five, found her way to a community college ­after enduring vio­lence at the hands of dif­fer­ent partners and the vicissitudes of welfare. Lele was among the thirteen of the forty-­five interview participants who attributed their decision to apply for welfare and enroll in higher education as a response to domestic vio­lence. Experience with domestic vio­lence is the most common characteristic of ­mothers on welfare, more so than race, age, educational background, number of c­ hildren, or ­family economic background.11 In a 2003 study of ­mothers on welfare in two California counties, the California Institute for M ­ ental Health found that as many as 83 ­percent ­were survivors of domestic vio­lence, and during the two-­year study period, nearly two-­thirds of the ­mothers interviewed ­were physically abused.12 This is consistent with national data showing that nearly two-­thirds of American ­mothers receiving welfare have been victims of domestic vio­lence at some point in their lives.13 Indeed, ­mothers in the welfare system experience domestic vio­lence at double the rate of all American ­women.14 Domestic vio­lence is one of the most commonly mentioned barriers to employment b­ ecause it can have drastic implications for the physical, emotional, and economic well-­being of low-­income ­women and their c­ hildren. In terms of health, m ­ others on welfare who have experienced abuse exhibit higher rates of depression and post-­traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) than ­those who have not.15 Additionally, m ­ others on welfare who have experienced domestic vio­lence are almost twice as likely to report having poor health or physical limitations compared to t­ hose who have never been abused.16 Domestic vio­lence is frequently exacerbated when ­mothers seek education, training, or work.17 Batterers often sabotage w ­ omen’s efforts to work or study by making threats, inflicting injuries before tests or interviews, preventing ­women from sleeping or studying, stalking them on campus or at work, or refusing at the last minute to provide the promised child care that m ­ others need to work or attend school.18 Two-­thirds of a group of welfare m ­ others in Wisconsin ­were fired or forced to quit their jobs due to domestic vio­lence.19 Furthermore, a study of Colorado welfare ­mothers found that abusive ex-­partners prevented 44 ­percent of the w ­ omen from working.20 Even when m ­ others are able to secure employment, domestic vio­lence makes sustained employment more difficult and greatly affects the employment options, quality of the employment, and earnings potential for w ­ omen with ­children in the welfare system.21 Lele’s path to welfare and higher education began twelve years before our interview in 2006, when—­age twenty-­five and with two c­ hildren in tow—­she left her abusive first husband. Shortly thereafter she began a relationship with a man with whom she would have three more ­children. She remained in this relationship for seven years, even though her new partner was, in her words,

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  37

“abusive, very, very abusive” and “a drug dealer, prison felon, never had a job.” Once she worked up the courage to leave him, she fled to a battered w ­ omen’s shelter. She recalled that “they helped, like, ‘okay, w ­ e’re gonna help you go apply for welfare, get a restraining order and all that.’ ” Yet as is often the case with domestic vio­lence victims, she returned to the relationship, and the cycle of vio­ lence continued: “So I ended up g­ oing back to my abuser. Then I got off of welfare again and started working temp jobs, h ­ ere and t­ here, for about—­that lasted ­until about [19]99. Prob­ably about a year and a half I worked temp jobs.” The combination of ongoing abuse and financial insecurity convinced her to take ­matters into her own hands: “I said that I ­wasn’t ­going to take it anymore. It was around Christmas, and I got me and my two boys at the time, ­because my two oldest kids ­were gone with my ex-­husband, and so that’s when I went to—­I just got on a bus and went to Sacramento to a battered ­women’s shelter.” Pregnancy complicated her prospects: “I was afraid to have my baby away from every­body. I was out ­there, I was d­ oing good, I was safe. But I was afraid ­because I ­didn’t have nobody. It was like, ‘dang, I’m nine months pregnant, and who’s gonna keep my boys?’ So I came back out ­here and moved in with my mom to have my baby.” Supported by her f­ amily and compelled by welfare reform requirements, she found a job through CalWORKs: So I was off welfare again. . . . ​A nd even though I was off the cash aid, and then I was off the food stamps too, I was still getting child care, and then for about a year they gave me the transportation money. At that time too, I was having to pay child support for my two oldest kids, b­ ecause they w ­ ere taken—­but it’s a long story. My in-­laws, they had gotten them, ­because my husband—my ex-­husband went to prison within all of this time. He murdered his girlfriend, so he went to prison, my in-­laws got my kids, and they started getting welfare. So I ended up owing child support.22 So my checks started getting garnished, and all this other stuff, so I am like, “I need a raise.”

When her employer denied her request for a raise, she quit. However, her job search led her to an uncomfortable realization: “I ­wasn’t qualified for any jobs. I needed a certain level of education, and I was like, ‘I gotta go to school.’ ” Yet balancing the competing demands of work and school made her worry: “How am I gonna go to school and keep down a full-­time job, ’cause I ­can’t do it? And how am I gonna go to school and have a job, ’cause I ­can’t pay for school, having a job. I c­ an’t get financial aid, I c­ an’t get anything. It was a big catch-22.” Lele’s experience exemplifies a sequence of events common among the thirteen participants who cited escaping domestic abuse as the primary motivation for seeking welfare and higher education. The ­women completed high school, got married or entered into a significant relationship, and had ­children—­all the while suffering domestic vio­lence that would ultimately end the relationship

38  •  Reformed American Dreams

and force them to find alternatives. The ­women often worked during this time. Nine of the thirteen m ­ others experienced abuse during their marriages. The o­ thers ­were in serious relationships but not married to their abusers. Some relationships w ­ ere abusive from the beginning, and some became abusive l­ ater. The male partner often also abused substances or dealt drugs. ­A fter escaping the vio­lence and abuse, the m ­ others went onto welfare, sometimes cycling between welfare and their abusive partners for many years. Eventually they left for the last time, and in most cases, that was when they applied for welfare and enrolled in higher education, often at the suggestion of a friend, relative, domestic vio­lence advocate or shelter counselor, therapist, or caseworker.23 The ­women’s narratives included discussions of the job market and how their lack of education, combined with their experience with domestic vio­lence, made them more vulnerable while working and unable to become eco­nom­ically self-­ sufficient. This led them to enroll in higher education once they left the abuser. Two of the m ­ others, Jasmine and Mercedes, still strug­g led with domestic vio­lence even a­ fter applying for welfare and pursuing higher education. Work support resources that Lele and many other low-­income m ­ others needed, such as child care, transportation assistance, low-­cost housing, and food stamps, ­were drastically cut, eliminated, or became time-­limited during welfare reform. As her narrative shows, Lele, like many w ­ omen on welfare, was unable to find a job at a higher salary ­because of her educational background. ­Women are stuck between deciding to stay in jobs that do not allow them to make ends meet or g­ oing onto welfare. Once on welfare, they are urged to engage in “work first” activities, but they know that ­these are not jobs that ­will be any better than the ones they had just left. Therefore, they enroll in community college programs, often si­mul­ta­neously with g­ oing on welfare, as Lele did, or shortly a­ fter, as D did. D, the oldest w ­ oman interviewed in this study, first applied for welfare in the late 1980s, while she was pregnant and trying for the first time to escape her abusive partner. As she related her story, she talked about the cycle of vio­ lence that is familiar to most domestic vio­lence survivors and is often cited in the lit­er­a­ture.24 D told me: I first applied for CalWORKs—­I remember that I left my ex-­husband for the final time in 1991, ­because we’d go through this cycle, the honeymoon period, he’s regretful, and then I’d go back with him. So I think I applied for [the] first time in 1988, when I was pregnant with my last child and I was staying in the domestic vio­lence shelter. So I applied for [welfare] then, and then I got back with him. I went back to work, and then when I left him again in 1991, I had a full-­time job and I ­didn’t apply for any assistance ­until 1992, when I had to leave that job b­ ecause of him threatening to take my life on the job. So I needed some type of support.

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  39

D’s narrative included many of the major themes in domestic vio­lence research. Domestic vio­lence tends to occur in cycles, with ­women often returning to abusers several times before they are able to leave permanently. If ­women secure decent jobs, threats from abusers can derail their efforts to attain economic self-­ sufficiency and lead them to return to the abusive situation for economic reasons. Even when physically separated, w ­ omen may still have economic ties to abusive partners, as in D’s case. She was fi­nally successful in leaving her abuser, but she was unable to keep her job ­because of his threats, especially while she was at work. Therefore, ­after she lost her job due to the consequences of domestic vio­lence, D applied for welfare and shortly afterward enrolled in her higher education program. B ­ ecause she was timing off of welfare, shortly a­ fter our interview D applied for and was approved to receive Social Security Disability benefits due to her severe injuries and PTSD from the domestic vio­lence. Although Social Security Disability provided a slightly higher monthly check than welfare, the strange catch to the transition was that she lost access to her ­mental health ser­vices for a year due to the health care rules surrounding the two systems. Despite being approved for Social Security Disability due to a severe ­mental illness, she did not have access to the very ser­vices that she needed most.

Domestic Vio­lence and Immigration Another impor­tant aspect of this pathway is the experience of immigrants, a large number of whom identified domestic vio­lence as their pathway. Five of the thirteen domestic vio­lence pathway participants ­were immigrants, e­ ither as c­ hildren (Tony) or as adults (Phoebe, Gloria, Kelly, and Grace). And out of the seven immigrants in this study, five identified domestic vio­lence as the primary pathway on to welfare. The stresses of immigration—­including leaving ­behind familial supports, moving ­great distances, and experiencing prejudice and discrimination—­can be very traumatic experiences for both men and ­women and can contribute to domestic vio­lence.25 ­There are multiple obstacles immigrant ­women must overcome to leave an abusive partner, including economic de­pen­dency, language barriers, social isolation, and immigration status.26 ­These obstacles may also include a lack of trust when seeking assistance from official institutions, such as welfare, that may be based on experiences with institutions in the immigrant’s home country.27 In addition, since the 1996 welfare reform, only certain categories of immigrants are eligible for welfare benefits, and many immigrants are unsure about the exact regulations. Therefore, their immigration status and the belief that they are not eligible for social ser­vice benefits can be deterrents to leaving their abusers.28 Tony, who emigrated as a child from Eritrea, was a thirty-­three-­year-­old ­mother of two and a recent UC Berkeley29 gradu­ate when she related her trajectory to me:

40  •  Reformed American Dreams

I got married at twenty-­t wo, a ­little too young. But I got married to someone who ­wasn’t from this country, expected t­ hings that . . . ​that just—­I ­don’t know, that I w ­ asn’t used to. He was another African man, so I thought that t­ here would be a lot of basic ­things that ­were understood between us, that d­ idn’t need a lot of discussion. But it turns out that he had ulterior motives, he just ­really wanted to get his [immigration] papers, so he married someone and had a ­couple kids with them, and as soon as he got his papers he was pretty much—­a year before he left, he started putting money away and destroying every­thing, destroying the f­ amily. He was super verbally and emotionally abusive, [physically] attacking me a ­couple of times, and I just—in hindsight I realized that he was trying to end the marriage quickly b­ ecause he got what he wanted. But while I was ­going through it with two very small c­ hildren—’cause the kids at the time, my son was two months old, and my ­daughter was eigh­teen months old b­ ecause they are only sixteen months apart—so it was ­really crazy to deal with. And I would hear threats from him all the time. I would constantly have to be looking around and over my shoulder b­ ecause he would say, “look, I have plenty of ­people who would take care of the kids in Africa.” So [he] threatened me that he would steal them and go. So, also, I would have to—­every place that the kids w ­ ere, I would specifically put down, “­don’t release the ­children to x, y, z.” And I went through all kinds of drama getting restraining ­orders and getting ­orders delivered to vari­ous police departments, ­because my mom lived in [city name], and my aunt lived in [city name], and I lived in [city name], and he lived in [city name]. So all the police departments had to have copies so that he ­wouldn’t be allowed to take them [the ­children] anywhere. . . . ​I had left my ex-­husband in June and from June to January, I ­hadn’t received any help from [welfare]. And [I] was basically raising the kids on the last bit of disability insurance that I had and staying with my parents. So that pretty much ran out. . . . ​I filed [for divorce] in—[laughs] I filed in October of 1999. . . . ​That January I had no other means [of] income and nothing ­else that I could possibly do. So I went back to school, and I applied for welfare.

Gaining a green card can be a primary motivation for immigrant men to seek marriage and ­children and, unfortunately, can lead to abusive relationships. Furthermore, separations and divorces are more complicated given immigration issues and the possibility that one parent may want to return to their country of origin with the c­ hildren. This can work e­ ither way. In Tony’s case, she was fighting to keep custody of the ­children and flee the abuse, but to remain in the Bay Area. However, another w ­ oman I interviewed, Kelly, desired to flee the abuse and return to her home country but was prevented from d­ oing so. Kelly immigrated to Israel from Soviet Georgia when she was eleven. She moved to Berkeley as an adult with her husband and their one-­year-­old son.

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  41

­ fter arriving in the United States, her husband, a U.S. citizen from the Bay A Area, became abusive. She fi­nally could not take the abuse any longer, but she was stuck in the United States by a court order that would not allow her to take her son back to Israel. Her grown ­daughter also moved to the United States with her initially but did not remain once the vio­lence started. Kelly’s desire to return to Israel to be with her f­ amily and her sense of isolation due to the abuse came through in her narrative of why she enrolled in education and applied for welfare: I wanted to go back home, but I c­ ouldn’t. The court system ­wouldn’t allow me. . . . ​­Because he’s American, and he demanded to have my son to be raised ­here. He ­didn’t want me to go back. And I was like torn between my ­daughter who’s ­there and my ­whole ­family who’s ­there, and I was all by myself h ­ ere. . . . ​ So h ­ ere I am, I ­couldn’t go back home, so I had to do something myself. And the only t­ hing was g­ oing back to school and working on my language skills, which ­were very poor. I mean, I could go to an office, and I c­ ouldn’t fill a form in . . . ​but somehow with my poor language I managed to do it. I managed to get onto welfare, I managed to go to school, I managed to . . . ​at some point we ­were evicted from our h ­ ouse, so I managed to get a section 8 [voucher for rental housing], and you know like building again my foundation . . . . ​I lost every­ thing through my marriage and through my transition, and at the age of forty, I had to start every­thing over.

Kelly left the relationship in August 2003 and applied for emergency aid, CalWORKs, and school all at the same time. She strug­gled to find work in the United States that was comparable to her work in her home country. Her poor En­glish skills, as is often the case with immigrants to the United States, added to her strug­gles. ­Later, she found out that she is prob­ably dyslexic, but the testing was unable to give a full diagnosis b­ ecause En­glish is her fourth language, ­after Georgian, Rus­sian, and Hebrew. Through domestic vio­lence ­after immigration, Kelly, like so many other w ­ omen, lost every­thing that she had worked for and had to start her life over. Mercedes and Jasmine also both addressed issues of immigration in their narratives: although they are both Americans, their partners w ­ ere immigrants. ­These two ­women, unlike the ­others in this pathway, continued to experience domestic vio­lence a­ fter they ­were already on welfare and while they ­were in school. As Mercedes’s narrative below illustrates, their experiences ­were slightly dif­fer­ent than the ­women discussed above. Mercedes, a thirty-­eight-­year-­old ­mother of four who had recent earned a bachelor’s degree when I interviewed her, was a first-­generation Latina American. Her boyfriend, the f­ ather of her two youn­gest ­children, was jailed and then

42  •  Reformed American Dreams

deported a­ fter charges ­were filed against him when the domestic vio­lence escalated to the point of her spending time in the hospital. As she related, she grappled with her feelings for her boyfriend, remaining committed to him even ­after he was deported just before her college graduation. She responded to my request to tell me about her graduation day by saying: It w ­ asn’t—­umm, it was happy, I was ­really happy and excited, but I was kind of sad though ­because right—­a week before graduation, her dad [indicating her ­daughter in her lap] and I had a fight, an awful fight. I was inside the car, and he punched the win­dow. He said he was punching the win­dow; regardless, the glass broke, and it cut my eye. So I was just like r­ eally crazy, I was in the hospital, got stitches ­here and ­here [indicating her face and head]. My mom saw every­thing, which is what I d­ idn’t want. She knew we had trou­bles, but I ­didn’t want her to see that. And he ran—it was just r­ eally crazy. That was a ­whole week before graduation, b­ ecause up ­until that time, he was g­ oing to be ­there. So it was kind of weird for me. Every­one was—­well, my mom was ­there and impor­tant ­people . . . ​but he was the one person that w ­ asn’t ­there. Deep down—­I mean, this is the weird part of the ­whole domestic vio­lence stuff, but deep down, I wanted him to be t­ here, but I knew he ­couldn’t ­because I had pressed charges. I had this scar on my face; it just w ­ asn’t the right t­ hing.

Mercedes strug­gled with the combination of her happiness at completing her degree and graduating from college and the pain of the continued abuse from her partner. She eventually reported the abuse, which added to her partner’s ongoing immigration issues with the Immigration and Naturalization Ser­vice. Despite the abuse, she remains committed to him: “He was deported. So ­we’re still committed—­it’s just hard b­ ecause of the distances and the ­legal divide. ­We’re working on seeing if t­ here’s any loopholes he can fit into and come back or anything so he can come back or at least visit us. . . . ​She [her ­daughter] was born in June 2003, and it was December [when] he was deported, but he was in jail the w ­ hole time I was pregnant.” All victims of domestic vio­lence strug­gle to leave their abuser, and for low-­ income w ­ omen, issues of economic security and child care add to the concerns about leaving. Mercedes and Jasmine, whose narrative ­will be explored in chapter 3, both identified domestic vio­lence as their primary pathway onto welfare and w ­ ere still struggling in the cycle of vio­lence even ­after they completed higher education. So in most of the domestic vio­lence pathways, welfare and higher education ­were routes that led participants permanently away from abuse and ­future relationships with abusive partners. However, domestic vio­lence is a cycle that often takes years to break.

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  43

Unexpected Pregnancy Unexpected pregnancy is the next most common pathway that ­women in this study cited taking to enroll in higher education and apply for welfare. Although ­these pregnancies are unexpected, they may not have been entirely accidental. In their research Kathryn Edin and Maria Kefalas found that “most conceptions are hardly pure accidents” and that only a small percentage of the low-­income ­women in their study ­were using contraception when their “unplanned child was conceived.”30 In this pathway, many of the m ­ others w ­ ere in significant relationships with their c­ hildren’s ­father, and although they w ­ ere not planning to get pregnant, they may not have been avoiding it altogether by using contraception consistently. Edin and Kefalas found that “many practiced contraception in the early days of their relationships to their ­children’s ­fathers; however, when the relationship moves to a higher level of trust and commitment, they typically abandon ­these practices or begin to engage in them inconsistently.”31 My study found a similar dynamic, and this pathway has three variations depending upon the ­mother’s age when she got pregnant for the first time: teen pregnancy, midlife pregnancy, and later-­life pregnancy.

Teen Pregnancy Teen pregnancy is often cited by researchers and policy makers as a central pathway onto welfare, and “current concern over teen motherhood centers partly on the real possibility of long-­term dependence on public welfare as well as on the tragedy of wasted potential of ­human life faced by both the adolescent ­mother and her offspring.”32 However, in a longitudinal study of teen m ­ others on welfare over the past thirty years in Baltimore, Frank Furstenberg found that despite the rhe­toric by policy makers that having a child as a teen is “a power­ful source of disadvantage,” instead it “had only modest effects on their educational and economic achievement l­ater in life, a­ fter taking into account their economic circumstances prior to becoming pregnant . . . ​the teen m ­ others in Baltimore did better than most observers would have predicted in continuing their education, and did not fare substantially worse than their counter­ parts who postponed parenthood ­until their twenties.”33 To encourage teen ­mothers to finish high school, TANF prohibits states from granting assistance to ­mothers who are ­under eigh­teen, who have not graduated from high school or completed their GED, and who are not enrolled in school. Often called “learnfare,” this policy encourages states to focus on the educational needs of teen parents, often in nontraditional settings such as alternative high schools or adult schools. In California, this policy is implemented through the Cal-­ Learn program, participation in which is mandatory for all pregnant or parenting teens u­ ntil they complete high school. However, many teens continue in school once they complete their Cal-­Learn program.

44  •  Reformed American Dreams

Teenage pregnancy, therefore, is a one of the subpathways of unexpected pregnancy that ­women in this study reported that they had taken to enroll in higher education and apply for welfare. Among the m ­ others that I interviewed, LaToya, Angela, Keisha, MMM, Taz, and Faith followed this course. Most w ­ ere also raised on welfare, and each got pregnant before her eigh­teenth birthday and de­cided to keep the baby. At the time of their pregnancies some (Taz, LaToya, Faith, and Keisha) ­were still in high school and some (Angela and MMM) had dropped out. They applied for welfare while pregnant and ­were required ­either to participate in the Cal-­Learn program to finish their GED or earn a high school diploma or to enroll in a community college as their welfare-­to-­work activity. The three youn­gest ­women interviewed in this study—­Keisha, LaToya, and Angela—­a ll followed this latter pathway. Angela was an eighteen-­year-­old Latina ­mother of an infant and a first-­semester community college student. She had been raised in the foster care system b­ ecause her m ­ other was in prison for a portion of her childhood, and she dropped out of high school at fifteen, sold drugs, and became involved in gangs. Angela talked about when she found out she was pregnant and how she came to enroll at the community college and apply for welfare: I found out I was pregnant—­I mean, you’d ask anybody who knows me, and [they would say] she would be the last person you think would get pregnant. You know what I mean. I got pregnant, I de­cided to have her, ­because like I am not ­going to punish her for my irresponsibilities, I am ­going to try to be responsible. . . . ​I de­cided to do what I felt was right. And then w ­ e’ll be fine, ­we’ll make it. I’m working hard for [my] d­ aughter. So let me think—­I got pregnant, and then—­let’s see, I enrolled in school right away. And then . . . ​I enrolled myself in TANF and got a hold of a good case man­ag­er. And she helped me out a lot. So and then from t­ here, my boyfriend, well, he was supportive throughout the ­whole pregnancy, he was pregnant, not me [laughs]. . . . ​­A fter I had her, I relaxed for a month. And then I started every­thing. I moved down ­here, ­because I had wanted to have her in the city, and then we tapped into all our resources. . . . ​I first enrolled in school, and then I applied for CalWORKs. . . . ​I got into school. The first ­things I hooked up with w ­ ere financial aid, and then my friend showed me EOPS [Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices] and told me that if I signed up [for aid], they would help me with my rent and school. And what else—­pretty much it helps me take care of my child and go to school, so I am trying to take advantage of it the best way that I can.

For Angela, getting pregnant was a turning point in her life and made her reevaluate the direction her life was g­ oing in. She had a supportive boyfriend,

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  45

and they moved from San Francisco to suburban Alameda County. Both enrolled in school, and they ­were raising their ­daughter together. Angela’s boyfriend was six years older than she was, and such age disparities ­were not uncommon. Several of the other ­mothers in this pathway (Faith, Keisha, and LaToya) also became pregnant as teen­agers with men who ­were significantly older, usually 5–8 years older than they w ­ ere. Especially when a w ­ oman is 14–16 years old, such an age difference often leads the ­woman to feeling pressured to begin having sex or to have unprotected sex. Most of the ­women in this pathway got pregnant with the man with whom they had their first significant sexual experience. In a study of sexually active urban youth, the National Campaign to End Teen Pregnancy found that ­there ­were many relationships between young girls and adult men and that “older guys are viewed as more independent—­financially and socially—­and, consequently, have more to offer. It is also noted that the unequal balance of power between older men and younger girls means that t­ hese young girls may feel less able to say ‘no’ to sex or to ask her partner to use protection. Many teen girls feel that sex is expected in a relationship with an older guy.”34 Keisha got pregnant in her se­nior year of high school while dating an older man. Her ­mother encouraged her to stay in school and gradu­ate. I asked Keisha to tell me about getting pregnant, and she said: Ooof, that was hard. Actually I was with her dad for two years before I got pregnant with her. My w ­ hole high school years, then I got pregnant with her. It was like I d­ idn’t want to tell my mom, I was in twelfth grade . . . ​my mom, she ­didn’t ­really have no prob­lem. She just said, “gradu­ate, get out of school first. Keep your baby, but just get out of school.” and I was like, “okay, that’s what I’m gonna do,” but it was hard. It was real hard. . . . ​He broke [took] my virginity . . . ​ and he was happy and he wanted to keep the baby. Then [when] we found out that it was a girl, he ­really wanted to keep the baby so I was like, “wow.” . . . ​Her dad, he went—he got incarcerated for a year, umm, [when] she was four months. He went to jail for a long time—­a year is a long, very long time when you are dealing with a child by yourself. . . . ​I ­didn’t want to [go on welfare], I did not want to, ohh, I ­d idn’t. I ­really ­d idn’t, but at the time I was staying with my ­sister, and she needed help too. So that’s why I r­ eally signed up for it, and she needed extra ­little money from me. She had three sons, and she needed extra ­little help, like for food and money. She was working and ­doing every­thing, and she was on CalWORKs too. . . . ​So that’s why I ­really signed up. . . . ​So a­ fter I had her [the d­ aughter], I got me a job and I got off—­umm, when I got off, and I was working at Bed, Bath, and Beyond for like nine months. Then [my d­ aughter] had to go to the hospital . . . ​but ­a fter two weeks in the hospital, you know, I lost my job. . . . ​They fired me ­because they said I missed too many days, but I was getting them calls in, I was showing them hospital papers and every­thing. . . . ​

46  •  Reformed American Dreams

I got back on [aid] ­because I ­wasn’t working no more, and I was paying rent. And I was paying rent by myself ­because her ­daddy was gone too. . . . ​I had to get back on it, which I ­really ­d idn’t want to, I r­ eally ­d idn’t . . . ​well, then I enrolled ­here [at the community college] about three semesters ago. Umm, I was trying to you know, umm, go to school, take care of my ­daughter.

The strug­g le between wanting to work but not having support or a job that would allow employees to take time off for medical or family-­related emergencies was common in many ­women’s narratives about applying for welfare aid. Two of the m ­ others, Taz and Faith, had routes that ­were dif­fer­ent from the ­others ­because they w ­ ere slightly older than the other m ­ others in this pathway at the time of the interview, had more than one child, had worked in their field for a while, and ­were pursuing additional education to advance in their ­careers. Even though they had been teenage ­mothers, they had earned associate’s degrees, held career-­track jobs, and spent several years off welfare. Since they ­were on welfare when they earned their associate’s degrees, they knew that ­going to school while on welfare was pos­si­ble, and when they found themselves in need of welfare again they de­cided to go back to school and continue their education. Taz’s and Faith’s paths led them back to welfare to finish their education, which they knew was pos­si­ble ­because that is where they had started postsecondary education. As the stories of MMM, discussed at the beginning of this chapter, and the other ­mothers in this pathway illustrate, teen pregnancy does not have to put an end to a w ­ oman’s education. M ­ others’ motivations for getting an education ­will be discussed fully in chapter 5, but it is worth noting ­here that many teen ­mothers cited getting pregnant as a turning point that caused them to look seriously at the possibility of entering higher education. Edin and Kefalas talk about motherhood, especially among teen parents, as a “turning point” that offers the m ­ others “a reason to get up in the morning” or as a way to or­ga­nize their lives.35 The m ­ others recognized this effect as well, and they discussed how having a baby at a young age made them grow up quickly and focus on their ­future goals. The m ­ others felt that they could not fail their c­ hildren and had to provide for them, which led them to pursue higher education instead of “work first” activities while on welfare.

Midlife Pregnancy Even among somewhat older w ­ omen, unexpected pregnancy, like teenage pregnancy, can significantly disrupt w ­ omen’s education and work paths. Among the ­mothers that I interviewed, Jane, Jade, Alexis, Daria, Marie, Nicole, and Vanessa followed this course. Some (Jane, Daria, Marie, Nicole, and Vanessa) ­were in college when they got pregnant. The other two participants (Alexis and Jade) w ­ ere essentially homeless with a marginal attachment to the l­abor mar-

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  47

ket. Most of t­ hese w ­ omen graduated from high school and went straight into college or to work, and some ­were both studying and working. A ­ fter some time, they became pregnant and had to go onto welfare b­ ecause of the unexpected pregnancy. The ­women who w ­ ere in school full time when they became pregnant remained in school, but for the ­women who ­were working and/or ­going to school part time, this was a chance for them to enroll in school full time while they w ­ ere on welfare. Jane got pregnant during her second year of college. She told me that “we ­were dating right ­a fter my first year. I ­d idn’t date ­really in high school, and I met him right when I started college. And we started dating back in the first year of college, and almost a year ­later I got pregnant.” Her education was interrupted by the pregnancy, but a­ fter she had her d­ aughter she transferred from the four-­year university that she had been attending to the community college nearby at the strong recommendation of her caseworker. It was not uncommon for the ­mothers in this pathway to downsize their educational goals ­after getting pregnant, as Jane did. Some of the m ­ others in this pathway ­were drifting along in low-­wage jobs and ­going to school part time at local community colleges. Three ­mothers (Nicole, Vanessa, and Marie) ­were both working and ­going to school part time. Marie, a thirty-­year-­old white ­mother of two, was g­ oing to school and working, but she was not ­really advancing in school ­until her oldest son was born. She then quit her part-­time job, went onto welfare, and enrolled in school full time. She graduated from the community college, transferred to UC Berkeley, and earned a bachelor’s degree a few years l­ater. Applying for welfare allowed Nicole and Vanessa, as it did Marie, the opportunity to pursue education full time, and having a child provided the motivation for ­these m ­ others to get serious about their education. Alexis and Jade ­were both essentially homeless and had spotty work histories when they got pregnant. Alexis, a twenty-­five-­year-­old Latina ­mother of one, got married and entered UC Berkeley right out of high school. However, ­after her divorce she moved to Miami to be closer to her m ­ other. Alexis worked in customer ser­vice positions ­until she became pregnant during a very brief relationship, and then she went onto welfare. She told me: I was a customer ser­vice representative for [a local com­pany for] wireless for almost two years, and then I got pregnant. So I d­ idn’t want to work when I had my baby [and I applied for welfare]. . . . ​I was a living on welfare and I was pretty much homeless—­like I was bouncing from place to place, from one relative to another relative’s h ­ ouse. And I was living with my mom, but then my mom met this guy, and he got in a fight with my ­sister, so then my mom got up and left with him. And like I was pretty much stranded. So I was just tired of g­ oing from one relative’s h ­ ouse to another relative’s h ­ ouse. . . . ​And I ­didn’t feel like I wanted

48  •  Reformed American Dreams

to be ­there, you know, that I was r­ eally welcome, so I figured might as well go back to UCB[erkeley], ­because I left in good standing. And I knew that I was gonna be guaranteed a ­house or a place to live at ­here. I wanted a better ­f uture for [my ­daughter] and me. And then I was like, I might as well go back and get my degree and finish school, so that I can have a place to stay.

Alexis’s decision to move back to the Bay Area and reenroll at UC Berkeley was primarily so that she could live in the lower-­cost ­family student housing that the university offers. Although she did want to complete her education, her primary concern was about being homeless with an infant. However, like the other ­mothers in this pathway, the unexpected pregnancy encouraged her to consider how she planned to provide for herself and her child, which led her to apply for welfare and continue her higher education. As illustrated by the narratives of the m ­ others in this pathway and t­ hose in the teen pregnancy pathway, becoming a ­mother encouraged the ­women to take their education more seriously and gave meaning and structure to their goals, which now included providing for a baby. Nonmarital births, especially t­ hose to low-­income ­women, have been given a lot of attention by policy makers and researchers. Around one-­third of all ­children in Amer­i­ca are born to parents who are not married to each other, which is almost double the percentage of nonmarital births in 1980. Although much attention is also given to teen pregnancy, only 27 ­percent of nonmarital births are to teen ­mothers.36 However, one of the explicit goals of TANF is to reduce out-­of-­wedlock births, and Congress intended PRWORA to “initiate a national attack on nonmarital births.”37 This attention and subsequent funding for programs designed to decrease nonmarital births was initiated through funding for abstinence-­only education and marriage promotion policies. The policies ­were designed to encourage w ­ omen on welfare to marry the f­ athers of their c­ hildren by providing cash bonuses, yet no bonuses are available for w ­ omen who pursue higher education. However, t­ hese marriage promotion programs do not change the be­hav­ior of low-­income ­women. Edin and Kefelas found that having ­children gives meaning to low-­income w ­ omen’s lives and offers fulfillment in ways that may not be available to them through marriage or a professional c­ areer.38 Furthermore, the authors found that low-­income ­women believe in the middle-­class ideals of marriage so strongly that they believe “that is it better to have ­children outside of marriage than to marry foolishly and risk divorce, for divorce desecrates the institution of marriage.”39 So the conservative rhe­toric about “marriage promotion” may be working too well: low-­income ­women believe so strongly in the institution that they have c­ hildren outside marriage instead of rushing to get married and risking divorce. As a pathway in this study, ­women chose to invest in their own ­human capital ­after having

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  49

their ­children to ensure that—­whether or not they get married in the ­future—­they w ­ ill be able to support themselves and their c­ hildren.

Later-­Life Pregnancy The last variation in the unexpected pregnancy pathway is later-­life pregnancy. Unlike teen pregnancy, this pathway has attracted virtually no attention in the welfare lit­er­a­ture. The three w ­ omen in this pathway in my study had varied life experiences leading up to applying for welfare and enrolling in higher education. Yet the common thread was that they had a later-­life pregnancy and afterward w ­ ere unable to regain their previous economic position. Although this pathway is similar to the unemployment pathway that ­will be discussed below in this chapter, ­these ­women w ­ ere dif­fer­ent ­because they w ­ ere ­either comfortably m ­ iddle class before getting pregnant or had significantly more education than the ­mothers in the other two pregnancy-­linked pathways. ­These w ­ omen applied for welfare b­ ecause they could not recover eco­nom­ically and saw welfare as an opportunity to pursue a drastically dif­f er­ent ­career. All three ­women ­were surprised that they got pregnant so late in life, and when they de­cided to keep their babies they applied for welfare ­because they had trou­ble regaining their previous economic position. Each saw welfare as the opportunity to pursue a drastically dif­fer­ent c­ areer and reenter the workforce. Nancy, a forty-­five-­year-­old Latina m ­ other of one, related how she came to apply for welfare and reenroll in school: Basically how I had my child was, I had anonymous sex, basically. We did use birth control—we used a condom—­and I still got pregnant. I saw him two times afterwards. He’s very, very young. So I told him the situation, and I told him if he wanted to be in the situation, fine, and if he d­ idn’t, that was fine. From the time I knew I was pregnant I ­really did a lot of soul-­searching. I was forty-­one when I got pregnant, and I knew that this was prob­ably ­going to be the last opportunity if ever I was g­ oing to have a child, so a­ fter a lot of soul-­ searching I de­cided I was ­going to do it. For some reason this child is in my life. To wear a condom and still get pregnant and be my age, it’s like, what are the odds? So I said, “I know it’s g­ oing to be hard, but I’m g­ oing to do it,” and I expressed that to him, and I said if you want to be involved, fine, if you d­ on’t, fine, but I ­don’t want a part-­time ­daddy. . . . ​A nd I ­d idn’t want my child to be in that position, knowing her f­ ather, but why i­ sn’t dad ­here. So I said ­you’re ­either in or out, but ­you’re not halfway in. And so he never showed up ­a fter that. . . . ​I had my child then, and I just found out I could not support my child with what I was making. . . . ​Supporting a child—it was impossible. So I [went onto welfare and] de­cided that I was just ­going to go to [a community] college, get a c­ ouple of skills ­under my b­ elt—­computer skills, b­ ecause I never learned to

50  •  Reformed American Dreams

do any computer work—­and from ­there it just slowly progressed into my becoming more involved in public health issues and community health. So I got a certificate as a community health outreach worker at [the community] college. They offered t­ hose certificates t­ here, I got one in HIV education outreach skills.

Dena’s pathway onto welfare was very similar to Nancy’s in that she did not plan to get pregnant, was amazed to get pregnant at her age, and applied for CalWORKs to pursue a new c­ areer. Unlike the ­mothers in the unexpected pregnancy pathway who, like ­those that Edin and Kefalas interviewed, viewed their pregnancies “as ‘not exactly planned,’ yet ‘not exactly avoided’ e­ ither,” Dena and Nancy both discussed being surprised at getting pregnant despite their age and use of contraceptives.40 Unlike the other two ­mothers in this pathway, Robin’s pregnancy was not unplanned. She had under­gone a fertility procedure, which was covered by her health insurance, to unblock her fallopian tubes b­ ecause she was having trou­ ble getting pregnant. She was not married but was in her late thirties and wanted to have ­children. So despite not being in a serious relationship, Robin had unprotected sex with several boyfriends before getting pregnant two years ­after the procedure. She was up-­front about her situation with all the men she was dating. Shortly ­after she had her son, she moved to the Bay Area for a ­career opportunity that did not work out. She found herself in living in San Francisco with a young child and unable to find employment in her field. She went on welfare b­ ecause she was not eligible for unemployment, and she found out that she could go back to school while on welfare. At that time, the welfare policy allowed her to pursue a master of social work (MSW) degree u­ nder a loophole that has since been eliminated. However, she was able to get her degree in two years and now works as a social worker for a public school system. Her experience, along with that of the other two ­mothers in this pathway, illustrates that previous higher education is not always enough to keep someone from needing to use welfare. However, all three m ­ others believed in higher education enough to choose to pursue additional education when they found themselves on welfare a­ fter previously being eco­nom­ically secure. It is estimated that only around 1 ­percent of ­women on welfare have a bachelor’s degree.41 Having a bachelor’s degree usually prevents families from being low income: only about 10 ­percent of low-­income working heads of f­ amily are college gradu­ates.42 However, for t­ hese ­women, having a later-­life pregnancy temporarily offset their educational achievements, and they applied for welfare. Once on welfare, each pursued a new c­ areer path for which they needed an additional degree—­which they earned while on welfare.

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  51

Substance Abuse Drug and alcohol abuse is another barrier to self-­sufficiency and a common reason why low-­income m ­ others turn to welfare. In a study of CalWORKs ­mothers in two California counties, around one-­fi fth of t­ hose interviewed needed alcohol or drug dependence ser­vices, yet only 1–5 ­percent of t­ hose who needed the ser­vices reported receiving them.43 In addition, alcohol and drug dependence are highly correlated with the need for ­mental health ser­vices: one-­ third of welfare m ­ others from that study who identified themselves as alcohol or drug dependent also met the criteria for needing ­mental health ser­vices. Findings from the National House­hold Survey of Drug Use found that 12 ­percent of single ­mothers participating in TANF had alcohol (7.5 ­percent) or drug (4.5 ­percent) dependence.44 However, alcohol and drug abuse is highly underreported, and other research using nationally representative data suggests around 20 ­percent of TANF participants have drug or alcohol dependence or abuse issues.45 Not surprisingly, then, another common pathway onto welfare and into higher education is recovery from substance abuse. Among the m ­ others that I interviewed, Betty, Sally, Trisha, Courtney, Jewel, Michelle, and Mindy followed this course. One additional ­mother, Rebecca, left her husband ­because of his severe substance abuse issues and went onto welfare and enrolled in higher education to escape his addiction. For the rest of the ­mothers, this pathway had two common variants, one in which the ­mother’s substance abuse led to her ­children being permanently removed from her custody (Michelle and Mindy) and one in which the m ­ other was able to regain (or retain) custody of her ­children a­ fter she got clean (Courtney, Jewel, Sally, Betty, and Trisha). Many ­mothers in this research had experiences with substance abuse. However, only ­these m ­ others identified recovery from substance abuse as their primary pathway onto welfare and into higher education. Betty, a thirty-­nine-­year-­old white m ­ other of one, had recently completed her bachelor’s degree at a local state university when I interviewed her. She had been a drug addict for over fifteen years before getting pregnant with her ­daughter at thirty-­t wo. Once her ­daughter was born, she realized that she needed to get clean to retain custody of her child. Her pathway, like that of ­others in recovery, had many twists and turns: I sold drugs and robbed ­people and did a lot of bad stuff u­ ntil I had [my ­daughter]. And then when I had [her], they took her from me in the hospital when she was two days old and put her in foster care. And [they] told me, “if you d­ on’t get into a drug program and get your life together, you’ll never get your kid back.” So I went to a program for a while. It was an outpatient’s program called [name of program] in Oakland. I was still getting up and

52  •  Reformed American Dreams

shooting speed e­ very day and ­going to the drug program. Nobody could even [tell], I was very good at hiding my addiction, that was the t­ hing. . . . ​So I went back to court with my ­little [treatment program] b­ inder, saying “yeah, I’m still ­going,” and I ­hadn’t gone. I’d quit ­going for about a month and a half. So I’m sitting at the court in Berkeley, [my ­daughter] is at my friend’s house—­which is where I’d been up all night partying—­a nd I could tell they ­were calling the drug program. In my mind I’m debating, should I just leave? But if I leave, ­they’re g­ oing to have a warrant out for my arrest. Like I ­didn’t know what to do. So I just stayed. Of course they threw me in fucking jail. . . . ​I had never been to a regular jail. I had been to Berkeley jail, which they have cable TV and TV dinners [laughs]. That’s nothing compared to like a real jail, and that was hard. The judge said, “you need to find a drug treatment center.” And for me, I had to find one that I could bring my kid [to], or I ­wouldn’t get my kid back, . . . ​So my ­sister was the one that found [name of second treatment program] b­ ecause I was like, “you have to find a program, [name of s­ ister], that I can go and I can bring [my ­daughter].” And I had to do it fast. So I got lucky ­because my s­ ister found [the treatment program] which was close to my mom’s h ­ ouse in Oakland, right where I grew up. I was able to go ­there. That’s how I got on welfare. So they actually came and picked me up from [jail]. My s­ ister met them, went to Berkeley court with them, they gave the papers to the judge, so the judge said that I could get out of jail and go to [the treatment program]. And this lady, [name of treatment center counselor], and one of the other girls that [was] in the drug program came and picked me up, I still remember, and drove me to Oakland. And I ­didn’t even have a blanket the first night—­you have to get some of your own stuff. But I was able to apply for welfare, first time I was on welfare. . . . ​A nd that’s where I remember I first learned about welfare reform too, b­ ecause while I was ­there somebody came, and I’m not even sure where she came from, but somebody had come and ­really talked about the changes. But nobody t­ here r­ eally cared at the time . . . ​this is prob­ably . . . ​January of [19]98. . . . ​So they took me to the welfare office. I signed up for welfare. And I had to wait thirty days before [my d­ aughter] could come with me, b­ ecause I guess a lot of times w ­ omen get out of jail say[ing] t­ hey’re g­ oing to go to a program and ditch the program. So I had to wait thirty days. So my mom and my s­ ister ­were taking care of her at that point. And then I got to [treatment]. Like I said, I lived ­there for a year, and then I had to do I think it was seven months of outpatient. And part of what I had to do was enroll in school, and ­here I am.

Betty’s path was similar to other recovering ­mothers’ paths. The treatment program required her to apply for welfare, and since she had not finished high school, the program also required her to enroll in school. Betty’s efforts to get clean ­were successful, and once in school she strug­gled, but she enjoyed it. She

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  53

earned two associate’s degrees and a bachelor’s degree, and she was finishing her master’s degree.46 However, not all ­mothers ­were able to keep their ­children through the pro­ cess. Two m ­ others in my study (Michelle and Mindy) permanently lost custody of their c­ hildren due to their substance abuse. In both cases, t­ here was also significant domestic vio­lence that contributed to the loss of their ­children. Mindy, a forty-­one-­year-­old ­mother of two, had recently finished her associate’s degree when I interviewed her in 2006. She had permanently lost custody of her oldest child due to her substance abuse and experience with domestic vio­ lence, and she told me how this had affected her life: On September 29, 2006, I ­will share with you, I have ten years recovery from an abusive addiction. . . . ​My one son . . . ​is legally ­adopted. . . . ​He was removed from my custody then was a­ dopted out by the state of California. . . . ​So when he turned two years old, my aunt became a foster m ­ other, her and her husband became foster parents and de­cided to raise my son. At age five he was a­ dopted through the state of California. They found prospective adoptive parents, and I have not seen him since age ten, and he’s fourteen t­ oday. . . . ​[Child Protective Ser­vices (CPS)] told me to let go of this man, and I d­ idn’t let go of him. Currently that was my d­ aughter’s f­ ather before I was pregnant with my ­daughter. . . . ​A nd you know, a person can only get so many chances and ­they’ve gotta make a decision. And at that time, I honestly have to say t­ here was too much in my life ­going on, and I was working, trying to get into the program. But I do have to say, once I let go of that man, it was the best t­ hing on this earth. The best ­thing. Life started happening. . . . ​That was my ­daughter’s ­father. . . . ​I broke up with him when my d­ aughter was about a year, a year and a half. . . . ​Well, in [19]98 I was three years sober, August of [19]98. August 13th, just about, my son was legally a­ dopted through the state of California, September 17th I lost my job, [19]98 [and I had to go onto welfare]. So [19]98 was a ­really bad year . . . ​but January of [19]99, I started school.

Mindy’s narrative sheds light on a darker aspect of the welfare reforms. ­A fter the 1996 welfare reform, many states also restructured their CPS programs. CPS programs get cash bonuses from the federal government for improving their adoption rate of foster ­children, so California’s CPS program significantly lowered the amount of time ­children ­were required to be separated from their parents, and in foster care, before being eligible for adoption. ­Children then can be permanently a­ dopted, severing a ­mother’s l­ egal rights, before the ­mother is stable enough to fight for custody. ­Mothers then have no ­legal rights even to visit their ­children, which is what happened in Mindy’s case. Although this policy change does not relate directly to this study, two of the ­mothers in this pathway lost ­children through adoption. For ­these ­women, substance abuse

54  •  Reformed American Dreams

was a major barrier to providing for their families. They discussed how, even though it was too late to regain custody of the ­children who had been ­adopted, by pursuing higher education they w ­ ere trying to provide a ­future for the ­children they still had. Fortunately in Trisha’s case, she was able to regain custody of her ­children before they ­were eligible for adoption. Trisha, a black ­mother of four and a community college student in her late forties, dealt with ongoing domestic vio­ lence and severe addiction prob­lems ­until the ­father of her youn­gest child was able to help her get clean. She was clean for twenty-­two months before she was able to get her kids back, and then she enrolled in a substance abuse counseling associate’s degree program at a local community college. Like Trisha, t­ hose who identify themselves as recovering from substance abuse often have extensive experiences with CPS, and most of them describe t­ hose experiences as negative. Along with recovery from substance abuse, many also experienced significant domestic vio­lence and m ­ ental health issues, as Trisha and o­ thers mention in their narratives. Drug and alcohol dependence is identified as the most impor­ tant of the high-­impact barriers to employment, and dependence—­along with domestic vio­lence or partner control and ­mental health (the other two high-­ impact barriers)—­significantly decreases a m ­ other’s likelihood of working once she leaves welfare.47 CalWORKs often addresses alcohol and drug dependence, domestic vio­lence, and ­mental health issues by giving the participant a waiver from participating in welfare-­to-­work programs. Once on a waiver, some participants are blocked from voluntarily participating in ­those welfare-­to-­work programs, which includes pursuing higher education. Therefore, participants with drug and alcohol de­pen­dency, experiences with domestic vio­lence, and ­mental health prob­lems are often strongly discouraged or overtly blocked from pursuing higher education by their caseworkers. That can make this pathway one of the most difficult b­ ecause of the bureaucratic challenges that occur, in addition to the personal challenges that overcoming drug and alcohol dependence, dealing with domestic vio­lence, and/or treating m ­ ental health prob­lems pre­sent. Counties should reverse the policies that prevent parents who are on waivers from pursuing education and training programs.48

Unemployment Unemployment, like an unplanned pregnancy, forces a transition in ­women’s lives. Although some of the ­mothers in this pathway had an unexpected pregnancy, they continued to work and did not apply for welfare u­ ntil they experienced a long spell of unemployment. As discussed at length in chapter 1, many ­women who pursued education while on welfare w ­ ere previously vulnerable in the ­labor market due to ­limited education, and many ­were in jobs that paid barely more than welfare. However, as their narratives illustrate, ­until they lost

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  55

their jobs they w ­ ere managing to get by, although most ­were living paycheck to paycheck. In a study of transition events that lead to poverty, unemployment was found to be the most common event associated with entering poverty, and 40 ­percent of the study’s participants entered poverty ­after a member of the ­house­hold lost their job.49 ­Because t­ here is no other wage earner in the h ­ ouse­hold, single ­mothers have no financial cushion when they lose their job. Also, many single ­mothers are in industries that ­were hardest hit by the recession in 2001, and ­those industries continued to lose jobs ­until late in 2003. This caused the unemployment rate of single m ­ others, many of whom had l­imited education, to remain high.50 Therefore, the ­women in this pathway turned to welfare ­after they had been laid off or downsized. Six m ­ others—­L ele  J., RBS, Misha, Monique, Barbara, and Mariposa—­followed this pathway. All of them except Mariposa graduated from high school and went to work immediately. Some also had prior community college experience, but for the most part they w ­ ere working and surviving before they w ­ ere laid off but ­were unable to find another job. They became unemployed for a variety of reasons: companies relocating (Monique and Mariposa), companies ­going out of business or drastically downsizing (Lele J., RBS, and Misha), or being self-­employed in an economic downturn (Barbara). Misha’s story was typical of their experiences. When asked what led up to her applying for welfare, she replied: “Um, being broke. My unemployment ran out, and I was ­really thinking that I would find a job. I mean, I never had a hard time finding a job—­never. I was always the person like, was I lost my job, I’ll get a job next week. And then when this d­ idn’t happen, it was just was like, I have to go do this. But to me, that is the most degrading t­ hing that you can do. . . . ​I came to Chabot to further myself. I have worked ever since I graduated from high school. . . . ​I just got tired of getting laid off. And I said this is the time for me to just go back to school.” Misha was unable to find a job a­ fter being laid off. Heather Boushey and David Rosnick have found that low-­income single m ­ others are among the first to be laid off in a recession, and when they lose their jobs they have a harder time finding new employment than the average worker.51 Although in the past Misha had been able to find another job quickly, the economic conditions had changed and made it more difficult for her to end her unemployment stint, particularly given her level of education. Like Misha, Mariposa was working a job that was allowing her to get by ­until she was laid off when the com­pany relocated. She was seven months pregnant and ­couldn’t find another job with her advanced pregnancy. Mariposa enrolled in classes at the community college shortly ­after ­going on welfare, at the urging of her caseworker and best friend. The ­women in this pathway viewed enrolling in school and pursuing higher education as a way to decrease their chances of experiencing extended

56  •  Reformed American Dreams

unemployment in the ­future. They felt more vulnerable in the workplace than their coworkers who had more extensive education, and in their narratives they related experiences of being directly passed over in ­favor of coworkers with degrees. Therefore, when they ­were unable to find another job while on unemployment, they applied for welfare when their unemployment benefits ran out and enrolled in school. This pathway is most consistent with the h ­ uman capital approach to poverty. By increasing their ­human capital, ­these ­mothers hoped that they would be able to get better jobs to support their families. While in the other pathways the ­human capital approach to poverty could also be cited, in this pathway h ­ uman capital was the m ­ others’ main focus. Their experiences led them to conclude that they needed additional education to prevent ­future unemployment and to become eco­nom­ically stable. The role of education is crucial for low-­income parents—­even when in two-­parent families, as discussed below.

Unmarried Partners with a Crisis of Care The issue of marriage for low-­income m ­ others is one that has created tremendous debate over the past twenty-­five years, and marriage is often cited as a key way to decrease poverty for low-­income w ­ omen. However, not all w ­ omen who are in long-­term committed relationships believe that marriage w ­ ill solve their economic prob­lems. In addition, research shows that many ­women bear ­children outside of marriage b­ ecause of a decrease in the stigma attached to ­these births.52 The last pathway I describe is one in which the m ­ other and f­ ather ­were living together but w ­ ere not married when they experienced a crisis of care. Nicole  C. and Lucy had each been with a partner for many years, having ­children and living together but not married. Their paths led them to welfare when they w ­ ere unable to make ends meet as a ­family caring for young c­ hildren, so the ­woman went onto welfare while the man worked for unreported cash. This option was available to the ­couple ­because they ­were unmarried. If they had been married, they would not be eligible for welfare ­because their combined income would have been too large. Lucy, a thirty-­year-­old Latina ­mother of three, had been working part time and ­going to the local state university for several years when her youn­gest son was born with health issues. She s­ topped g­ oing to school, continued working part time, and took care of her son. Her partner was the ­father of her three sons, and she had been with him since she was fourteen, but they w ­ ere not married. He was injured on the job just a­ fter the third son’s birth. She applied for welfare ­after he lost his job b­ ecause they needed the extra income and for the child care benefits that come with welfare. Once her youn­gest son’s health improved, Lucy de­cided it was time to take the last few classes she needed to earn her bachelor’s degree:

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  57

Basically my sons’ ­father has been in and out of jobs ever since the bud­get cuts. He used to be security on loan [like rent-­a-­cop], and [then] he hurt his back from [working for] a moving com­pany. So he’s been out of work, and it was hard for him to find a new job. . . . ​As far as me, I had many obstacles [when I applied for welfare] ­because they d­ idn’t want to give me day care, they ­didn’t want to approve my school b­ ecause I had to get it approved by them. . . . ​I was basically seven classes from finishing [the bachelor’s degree] . . . ​for me [it was] kind of ludicrous [that they w ­ ouldn’t approve her education plan b­ ecause she was so close to finishing], but they had to give it to me! I had to get their special permission to continue with my ­career objective. It was just ­really lucky, my [case]worker kind of gave me a hassle, and I was like, “I need to speak to your supervisor then, b­ ecause I’m not g­ oing through no eight-­week training ­either. I ­don’t need that.” So when I met up with the supervisor, they ­were very nice, I ­didn’t argue with them b­ ecause I know that d­ oesn’t get you anywhere. But I told them that “I’m not g­ oing to do that, I c­ an’t do that, and I need day care.” . . . ​I had said that I wanted to be a probation officer, and it was only approved ­because I’m so far already in school. They would never have approved a BA program. So it was approved and I was given fi­nally day care coverage in the summer 2005, I guess.

Lucy planned to marry her partner once she was done with school and they ­were both working and financially able to host a wedding. She would like to have a small ceremony in a park with a cele­bration for friends and f­ amily. Although she claimed that she did not want a “big” wedding, she was explicit in her description of a “proper” wedding: she wanted more than a justice of the peace ceremony at the county court­house. As Edin and Kefalas observe, “hosting a ‘proper’ wedding is a sign that the c­ ouple only plans to do it once, given the obvious financial sacrifice required,” and a “wedding is a vivid display that the ­couple has achieved enough financial security to do more than live from paycheck to paycheck, a stressful situation that most believe leads almost inevitably to divorce.”53 Although Lucy and her partner had been together for almost fifteen years and have three c­ hildren together, they planned to marry when they w ­ ere more financially secure. The other m ­ other in this pathway, Nicole C., had a similar narrative, with child care at the heart of why she needed welfare. Nicole C., a thirty-­five-­year-­ old white m ­ other of two, and her partner w ­ ere both pursuing associate’s degrees but having trou­ble finding child care for her two toddlers while she and her partner ­were in class. She went to a resource fair at the suggestion of an advocate on campus and found out about CalWORKs. Like Lucy, Nicole C. considered marrying her partner in the f­ uture, but that was not a high priority at the moment. She was more concerned about providing her ­children with food to eat and a safe place to live and about completing her education. ­There ­were

58  •  Reformed American Dreams

actually more economic opportunities for ­these m ­ others ­because they ­were not married, which helped them deal with a “crisis of care” in ways that are not available to low-­income married ­couples. Both w ­ omen used the identity of “single parent” to gain access to resources when necessary, but in other instances they used the power of having a man in the h ­ ouse to look like a traditional ­family and access resources available to the deserving poor. Many of the m ­ others in the study had their boyfriends or ­children’s ­fathers living with them, but Nicole C. and Lucy followed a more traditional ­family formation route of being with a partner, moving in together, and then planning to have ­children. In many ways they mirror many working-­class families, but they just happened to not be married. This allowed the ­woman to apply for welfare in tough economic times to help support the f­ amily and provide child care. Although much of the welfare rhe­toric focuses on w ­ omen marrying their c­ hildren’s f­ athers, Lucy and Nicole C. both recognized the marriage penalty that is inherent in welfare policy. If they married their partner, their welfare benefits would be recalculated. For only about a $100 increase in their monthly grant, they would have to double their required weekly work participation hours and would lose access to child care. In most cases, the welfare policies’ emphasis on marriage seems hollow to ­women who are trying to make ends meet. It penalizes married recipients and leaves many opting instead to cohabit so they can survive.54

Conclusion The m ­ others’ pathways could be viewed through the barriers lens that is often applied to welfare participants—by examining barriers to employment for ­these ­women. However, for ­these m ­ others, their education was so impor­tant to them that they viewed their experiences as crucial trail markers that led them to their current educational path. Their histories ­were not barriers to them but instead ­were impor­tant events along the path that eventually led them to seriously pursue an education, even if they had to do it while on welfare. As discussed in chapter 1, the ­women’s experiences with poverty and the ­labor market, as well as with ­family obligations and health considerations, left them eco­nom­ically vulnerable. Their experiences ­were similar to t­ hose explored by Mark Rank in his research on poverty.55 Structural vulnerability theory can be used to understand the ­mothers’ pathways. However, this research extends the theory by examining what happened when low-­income ­women ­were at the intersections of structural vulnerability and asks how they used individual agency to change their course. They could not change the social structure overnight, but they could make individual choices and changes in their lives. They invested in their own ­human capital by enrolling in higher education. In the chapters that follow, I ­will explore how higher education—­and, for some m ­ others, participating in grassroots activism—­built not just h ­ uman capital but also social and cultural

Pathways onto Welfare and into College  •  59

capital. Choosing to pursue higher education while on welfare evokes the last stanza of Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken,” Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.56

Completing higher education on welfare is the road less traveled for poor ­women. Does that make “all the difference” for them?

3

Reformed Grassroots Activism

In March 2005, a small group of m ­ others on welfare from California, New York, and Ohio, along with the executive director of Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME) and me, met with the top Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) administrator, Andrew Bush, at the Office of F ­ amily Assistance in Washington, D.C. The Office of ­Family Assistance, part of the Department of Health and H ­ uman Ser­vices, administers the TANF program, which, along with the Vio­lence Against ­Women Act, was being considered for reauthorization. Bush had been appointed during the administration of President George W. Bush (no relation to Andrew), and the administration was focusing its efforts on marriage promotion policies for low-­income families. LIFETIME joined advocates from around the country in Washington for the National Co­ali­tion against Domestic Vio­lence’s week of lobbying to advocate for domestic vio­lence survivors, and the LIFETIME m ­ others w ­ ere also advocating that TANF expand access to education and training. The meeting started on a hopeful note but ended in an impasse. At the start of the meeting each ­mother introduced herself and explained that she was a survivor of domestic vio­lence and in its aftermath had relied on the welfare system. Yet none of them had received domestic vio­lence counseling, ser­vices, or waivers from welfare work requirements. Moreover, all had been sanctioned off welfare ­because of repercussions from domestic vio­lence. They only recovered their welfare benefits with the help of advocates who had also helped them 60

Reformed Grassroots Activism  •  61

secure safe housing and enroll in higher education programs. The ­mothers informed Bush that surviving or experiencing domestic vio­lence is the most common characteristic of ­women on welfare, more so than any other demographic characteristic such as race/ethnicity, age, level of education, or number of ­children. Furthermore, they explained that three of them ­were escaping severely abusive marriages, one was escaping an abusive partner who was a veteran, and one had recently moved several states away to escape an abusive boyfriend. The central message that the w ­ omen conveyed was that f­ amily vio­lence is not an option, and they wanted the Office of ­Family Assistance to make the ­Family Vio­lence Option, the provision in welfare reform policy that allows states to provide waivers and ser­vices for domestic vio­lence survivors on welfare, mandatory for states and require states to make accommodations for ­mothers on welfare who are victims of domestic vio­lence. Throughout the meeting, Bush repeated one phrase: “we are ­going to have to agree to disagree.” He went on to explain the priorities of the Office of ­Family Assistance in the Bush administration—­the primary one of which was marriage promotion. The ­mothers, wanting to find common ground with Bush, suggested that marriage promotion policies should include safeguards or exemptions for ­women who are survivors of domestic vio­lence. Again Bush said, “we are ­going to have to agree to disagree.” “Okay,” one of the ­mothers said, trying to take yet another step back and find some common ground from which to lay a foundation for the discussion, “well, can we agree that domestic vio­lence is a major issue for ­mothers on welfare?” Again Bush said, “we are ­going to have to agree to disagree.” The meeting ended when one of the m ­ others asked in exasperation, “well, I know that you want us to agree to disagree, but can we at least agree that domestic vio­lence is bad?” In response, Bush abruptly stood up, politely thanked us for coming, and quickly excused himself. His departure disheartened the ­mothers b­ ecause their strategy of trying to find common ground from which to start their discussion of welfare, domestic vio­lence, and higher education had proven fruitless. During the debriefing ­after the meeting with Bush, the ­mothers emphasized over and over again that they did not fully understand why he had been so cold and unwilling to discuss e­ ither the vari­ous ways that TANF policy was implemented or pos­si­ble policy changes. Although they knew ­going into the meeting that this would be the toughest one of the week, they could not understand why he had been so obstinate. In other conversations with progressive and conservative policy makers that week and in their previous advocacy work, no one had experienced such a cold shoulder. The m ­ others had been meeting on Capitol Hill all week with legislative staffers and, in a few cases, with members of Congress, all of whom had listened attentively. Even in a meeting the previous day, Representative Rick Santorum’s health and h ­ uman ser­vices legislative staffer had received them warmly and was willing to listen to their ideas, even

62  •  Reformed American Dreams

if—­although he never directly said so—he disagreed with what they advocated. Their encounter with Bush left the ­mothers wondering why he even agreed to meet with them if he was ­going to treat them that way. In response to the unwillingness of Andrew Bush and the Bush administration to recognize the distinct needs of survivors of domestic vio­lence, LIFETIME and national welfare rights partners in New York, Ohio, and Washington planned local and state actions to raise awareness about the links between domestic vio­lence and welfare and the number of low-­income ­women on welfare who are survivors of domestic abuse. As the spring progressed, LIFETIME worked as part of a national co­a li­tion of grassroots welfare rights groups across the country to plan a larger national action. In June 2005, LIFETIME returned to the District of Columbia with a larger group of welfare activists to raise awareness of poor w ­ omen’s experiences with domestic vio­lence ahead of the reauthorization of the Vio­lence Against ­Women Act and the TANF program. The first event that LIFETIME or­ga­nized was a grassroots research briefing on Capitol Hill that featured the testimonies of three m ­ others on welfare about their experiences with domestic vio­lence, welfare, and higher education along with short research pre­sen­ta­tions by LIFETIME’s director, a well-­k nown D.C.-­based welfare policy researcher, and me. In preparation, LIFETIME had worked with welfare rights groups and domestic vio­lence organ­izations all over the country to have low-­income survivors of domestic vio­lence make T-­shirts emblazoned with their picture, their story, and their message to policy makers. They gathered over 100 T-­shirts. LIFETIME intended to deliver them to the assistant secretary in the Department of Health and H ­ uman Ser­vices (HHS), Wade Horn, and the TANF director. LIFETIME also or­ga­nized a protest outside HHS. The protesters—­ approximately fifteen welfare m ­ others who w ­ ere grassroots activists from all over the country—­assembled on the sidewalk u­ nder an overpass about a block from HHS. They quickly clipped the T-­shirts onto clotheslines that ­were attached to six eight-­feet-­tall wooden poles to assem­ble a portable “clothesline proj­ect” exhibit.1 Approximately ten summer interns from the National Organ­ ization of ­Women’s D.C. office who had volunteered to help with logistics and carry the poles joined the group of welfare ­mothers during the protest. As they marched, the group chanted “­Family vio­lence is not an option.” The plan was to try to deliver a copy of a research brief about domestic vio­lence and welfare reform that LIFETIME had authored, along with as many of the t-­shirts as pos­ si­ble, to Horn. For over an hour, LIFETIME activists and their allies stood out on the sidewalk in front of HHS and chanted, with LIFETIME’s executive director leading the group and shouting the group’s demands while also dealing with security guards. A group of about five security guards and a c­ ouple of D.C. police officers gathered to monitor the group’s protest. The main point of contention was that

Reformed Grassroots Activism  •  63

the portable clotheslines could not block the sidewalk or the entrance to the building, and that foot traffic had to be able to pass on the sidewalk and ­people had to be able to enter and exit the building. Although the security guards w ­ ere not pleased with the disruption, they ­were not arresting anyone or requiring that the group disperse, but the situation was a moment-­by-­moment negotiation with the security and police. The group included five ­children who had accompanied their ­mothers to the protest, and the guards ­were especially careful about the actions they took given the presence of the c­ hildren. All of the ­people in the group, including the ­children, ­were wearing T-­shirts with their own story or representing the group that they ­were affiliated with, and a ­couple of reporters observed and covered the event. Overall, the protest was loud and vis­i­ble on an other­wise calm street lined with sedate federal office buildings. Activists l­ater heard from workers in the HHS building that employees could hear the chanting inside the offices all the way up to the top floor of the building. Eventually, a top assistant to Horn came out to chat with the group on the sidewalk. This conversation was short, and the assistant declined to allow anyone, even a smaller group, to enter the building, but he fi­nally accepted the research report and a c­ ouple of T-­shirts. The ­women literally took the shirts off their backs and handed them to him. One activist powerfully proclaimed, “we left our abusers with nothing more than the shirts on our backs. We give you t­ hese shirts to tell our stories and protest [President] Bush’s marriage promotion policies. We need help from welfare, not marriage promises from dangerous men.” Stunned, the assistant took the shirts and quickly went back into the building. The group was less than fully satisfied with the interaction but agreed that it was prob­ably the best that could be hoped for. Every­one marched back down the sidewalk to the overpass where they had started, to debrief and disassemble the clotheslines. The portable clothesline protest expressed LIFETIME’s commitment to ending the marginalization of impoverished ­mothers through grassroots advocacy and activism. LIFETIME was designed by and for m ­ others on welfare in education and job training programs specifically to help ­mothers on welfare use educational strategies to get out of poverty. This chapter explores how LIFETIME has engaged in grassroots advocacy, activism, and politics to affect welfare policy and empower welfare parents to reach their educational goals. One ave­nue for assisting m ­ others on welfare to overcome systemic barriers and gain access to higher education has been the intervention of advocacy organ­izations. The research on the role of organ­izations advocating for welfare ­mothers is l­ imited, although what ­little we know suggests that many of the ­women on welfare who enrolled in higher education “received much better information about TANF rules and negotiating the welfare system from community based organ­izations and their colleges than from caseworkers and

64  •  Reformed American Dreams

welfare offices.”2 Marilyn Gittell, Jill Gross, and Jennifer Holdaway have also found that ­women with access to community-­based organ­izations or campus centers w ­ ere more enthusiastic about the assistance and support they received and that ­those efforts w ­ ere significant f­ actors in their success.3 Anita Mathur suggests that one campus office, California Community Colleges System’s California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs) office, helps make education an effective strategy, but she does not include the pos­si­ ble effects of LIFETIME, other specialized advocacy organ­izations, or students using both the campus resources and advocacy organ­ization.4 Only a few of the studies discussed above examined the role of t­ hese organ­izations in welfare m ­ others’ narratives. One of the central research questions for this proj­ect is how the narratives of ­mothers involved with the organ­ization differ from ­those of ­mothers who ­were not. LIFETIME mobilizes and empowers ­women on welfare by teaching them to connect the issues they face in their lives to the structural design of welfare policy. The complexity that LIFETIME teaches about, however, is the reason why each ­woman’s level of engagement with the organ­ization varies. Analyzing how and why LIFETIME participants’ narratives differ from ­those of the ­mothers who ­were not involved reveals how the organ­ization, through this teaching and empowerment, improves the lives of impoverished w ­ omen.

LIFETIME and Grassroots Politics A ­mother on welfare who was finishing her bachelor’s degree at the University of California (UC) Berkeley founded LIFETIME as a nonprofit organ­ization in 1996. During her time in community college and at UC Berkeley, she had networked with other student parents, formed support groups, designed and conducted student-­led classes, and created student parent resource centers on vari­ous local college campuses. She graduated from UC Berkeley in the same year that welfare reform was passed nationally and then implemented in California. This coincidence spurred her to found LIFETIME ­because, as discussed in chapter 1, the 1996 welfare reform greatly restricted welfare recipients’ opportunities to pursue higher education. In response to the fact that many student parents ­were single ­mothers who ­either had received or ­were receiving welfare, the mission of LIFETIME centered on ensuring that welfare benefits included access to education and training. This mission entailed achieving two interrelated objectives. First, LIFETIME endeavored to provide peer-­advocacy ser­vices by and for ­mothers on welfare to help them pursue higher education. ­These ser­vices ­were mainly provided by interns who ­were student m ­ others on welfare and worked for the organ­ization part time, sometimes as part of a work-­study program through local colleges or universities. The organ­ization conducted outreach workshops

Reformed Grassroots Activism  •  65

at community colleges and universities across the San Francisco Bay Area, and eventually across California, to teach student parents how advocate for themselves and how (and when) to reach out to LIFETIME or other advocacy organ­ izations for support. When parents contacted the organ­ization for advocacy support, the peer advocates worked with them to resolve their issues with the welfare office or file an appeal with the state. The focus of this aspect of the organ­ization’s mission was to help parents resolve their individual prob­lems with the welfare system so that they could stay in school while on welfare. The second main purpose of the organ­ization was to empower student parents to work collectively on grassroots campaigns to change welfare policies.5 LIFETIME worked through grassroots organ­izing to raise awareness about the rights of low-­income families and challenge welfare policy. The core of LIFETIME’s organ­izing strategy was to empower parents to fight for their rights in the welfare system and then join the collective fight to change the policies for every­one. The organ­ization helped CalWORKs parents address their prob­lems with the welfare system and then focused on developing their leadership skills, teaching them to understand the structural aspects of welfare reform policy, and empowering them to participate in the po­liti­cal pro­cess. The organ­ization held one-­and three-­day parent leadership trainings to inform parents about current welfare policy, upcoming changes to the policy, and how to become involved in po­liti­cal advocacy. ­Those who participated in at least one of LIFETIME’s leadership trainings w ­ ere designated parent leaders by the organ­ization. They tended to be the most active in LIFETIME and its grassroots po­liti­cal work, collaborating with staff members to undertake activities and actions to change policies on welfare and poverty at the local, state, and federal level.6 LIFETIME’s approach to grassroots po­liti­cal engagement was a well-­known but infrequently used strategy in po­liti­cal organ­izing. The approach involves a three-­step sequence aimed at encouraging social action. The first step is to help ­people through their immediate personal crisis with advocacy and social ser­ vices, the second is to engage them in leadership development and issue training, and the third is to mobilize them for grassroots po­liti­cal work to help change the policies that put them in crisis in the first place. This strategy, as Mimi Abramovitz points out, is more often used by ­women than men, especially poor and working-class ­women.7 Carol Hardy-­Fanta found in her study of Latina/Latino politics that ­women are particularly good at “making connections” between “private trou­bles and public issues” and that, by way of addressing their private trou­bles, ­women often got involved po­liti­cally in the public issues that contributed to or caused their prob­lems.8 LIFETIME likewise has helped parents make the connections between their “private trou­bles and the public issues,” a pro­ cess that could also be referred to as providing “radical social ser­vices.” The term “radical social ser­vices” comes from a history of radical social work.9 Although ­there are many ways to define radical social work, one of the ways

66  •  Reformed American Dreams

that most clearly reflects the work LIFETIME was d­ oing is: “(1) a belief that the institutional structure of society is the source of the personal prob­lems of the clients; (2) a focus on economic in­equality as a central concern and cause of other social and individual prob­lems; (3) a critical view of social ser­vice agencies as instruments of social control, co-­optation, and stigmatization; (4) a focus on both structural and internalized oppression; and (5) a linkage of cause and function of private trou­bles and public issues.”10 ­These ele­ments correspond to the way LIFETIME connected student parents to the advocacy they needed to solve their personal trou­bles and then engaged them po­liti­cally to challenge the structures that cause their oppression. Some items in the social movement lit­er­a­ture might also call what the organ­ ization does creating an “oppositional consciousness” among the parents on welfare, although LIFETIME has never described what it does in t­ hese terms.11 Jane Mansbridge argues that oppositional consciousness “is usually fueled by righ­teous anger over injustices done to the group and prompted by personal indignities and harms suffered through one’s group membership.”12 LIFETIME argued that the very act of using welfare creates personal indignities and harm. For this reason the organ­ization worked to funnel w ­ omen’s “righ­teous anger” into po­liti­cal action. LIFETIME’s development of parent leaders echoes Mans­ bridge’s definition of oppositional consciousness as a m ­ atter of “identifying with members of a subordinate group, identifying injustices done to that group, opposing t­ hose injustices, and seeing the group as having a shared interest in ending or diminishing t­ hose injustices.”13 In LIFETIME’s case, this involved raising the consciousness of m ­ others on welfare to help them identify with each other, and then working to stimulate their awareness of the sources of economic injustice and mobilizing them to combat the injustice.14 As w ­ ill be evident in the discussion below, not all ­mothers who contacted LIFETIME became involved in its po­liti­cal activities, and only a few acquired an oppositional consciousness. But t­ hose who attended the parent leadership trainings developed dif­fer­ent narratives than t­ hose who w ­ ere less involved. LIFETIME and other grassroots welfare rights organ­izations believe that listening to the voices of t­ hose affected by ­these policies is a critical step in making policies that improve ­women’s daily lives. Through this study, which included participant observation, in-­depth interviews, and focus group research, I use LIFETIME leaders and participants to illustrate the lived experiences of ­mothers on welfare and tell a very dif­f er­ent story from the rhe­toric that is used by administrators and politicians in the welfare debate. In November 2003, I observed my first LIFETIME parent leadership training. Thereafter my involvement with the organ­ization deepened, and from March 2005 through December 2006 I both observed and participated in most of LIFETIME’s grassroots protests, parent leadership meetings, special events, and policy briefings like ­those described above. ­These events w ­ ere held in a variety

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of locations, including LIFETIME’s Oakland offices and in downtown Oakland, at the welfare office; in San Francisco in front of City Hall and at the governor’s San Francisco office; at the California State Capitol in Sacramento; and in Washington, D.C., both on Capitol Hill and at HHS. LIFETIME also collaborated with several other grassroots organ­izations in the Bay Area, across California, and nationally. Th ­ ese groups helped build co­ali­tions, conduct organ­izing and media messaging trainings, and plan protests.

Becoming a Parent Leader One of the ­women in the room at HHS on that day in March 2005 was Jasmine. As described in the introduction I first became aware of LIFETIME in June 2003, at a feminist policy conference in Washington. I first met Jasmine when she presented with LIFETIME’s directors in a panel on welfare reform and grassroots activism. She and I came to know each other over the next two years. We traveled together to Washington and Sacramento, and she was the first person I interviewed in November 2005. Jasmine participated in LIFETIME as a parent leader. She first heard about the organ­ization at a town hall meeting or­ga­nized by the food bank that she used while she and her ­family ­were homeless. At the meeting, she was approached by one of the organ­ization’s other parent leaders to discuss what she had said during the meeting. She recounted “being ­stopped from [attending] school and being homeless, ­because that was the main ­thing—we ­were living in a filthy store front illegally which ­didn’t have a bathroom or a kitchen for three and a half years. One of the LIFETIME ­people was ­there and heard my testimony, and they came up to me and introduced themselves. And I got in touch with them, and basically that’s how it all started. That was like in April 2001.” She continued: “LIFETIME came up to me ­because they heard me talk about quitting school as I was speaking, about being forced [by her caseworker to quit school]. And from that time on I filed an appeal, and I won my appeal in early 2002. I went back to school in August 2001. Even though the county told me not to, I did anyways . . . ​with LIFETIME’s advice. I would have never done this had I not met LIFETIME ­because I had no idea that they [caseworkers] ­were breaking the law ­because I was already ­going to school and they made me quit. And that’s against the law in California.” Jasmine traced her trajectory with the organ­ization, as a client who became an activist: “I came to LIFETIME as a client about my case, being forced to quit school. And from that time, my development with LIFETIME has been a r­ eally positive and uplifting experience for me, in the sense that I got on the parent leadership committee, which is comprised of groups of CalWORKs parents who help LIFETIME form decision making about laws or policies that affect our life ­because we are the ones living our life. And part of that meant ­going to Sacramento on

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[legislative] visits, and in some cases to Washington, D.C., to do the same and be involved in briefings.” Jasmine also related how she developed an understanding of the structural deficiencies within the welfare system through her experiences in poverty and by being involved with LIFETIME. The organ­ization “showed me how the resources in the system ­were not being given to me and how the social system had been dropping the ball basically and failing parents like myself who are ­really, truly trying and who have good intentions in ­every way to get out of poverty. Nobody wants to be in poverty, and poverty ­doesn’t have a time limit on it, so why does welfare? And LIFETIME seemed to understand all t­ hese t­ hings.” In addition to learning about the dynamics of poverty and the welfare policy through the organ­ization’s trainings, Jasmine worked with the organ­ization to change them. She confirmed that “LIFETIME has also been integral in helping to form and change law and policy in California that affects families like mine, and I’ve been a part of that change by being involved with LIFETIME.” Seventeen of the forty-­five w ­ omen interviewed in this study identified themselves as parent leaders. Twelve ­were very engaged, while the remaining five participated only occasionally. Most parent leaders, including nine of the twelve most active parent leaders, had found out about the organ­ization through their community college or university. The organ­ization holds workshops and pre­ sen­ta­tions and advertises through flyers at the community colleges and public universities in the Bay Area. Active parent leaders ­were also active on their own campuses and made announcements at meetings and in their classes to let other students know about the organ­ization. Of the nine leaders who first found out about the organ­ization through their campuses, five of them got involved ­because of the personal connection that they made with a parent leader or staff member during a workshop or by being introduced to the organ­ization by a college staff member. As we see in Jasmine’s narrative, her trajectory to being involved with LIFETIME followed the organ­ization’s strategy for engaging parents in grassroots politics. She met a parent leader from the organ­ization who helped her work on her personal case issues, and then she attended a parent leadership training, which led her to join the organ­ization’s parent leadership committee. LIFETIME’s parent leaders got involved in several ways, but as Jasmine’s narrative illustrates, the personal connection with a staff member or parent leader is a critical first step. Jasmine exemplified one extreme in the range of participant engagement with the organ­ization, which ran from deeply committed parent leaders to clients and potential participants. LIFETIME parent leaders identified strongly with the organ­ization and gave more meaning to their participation in grassroots activism. Twitch got involved when she “started g­ oing back to school. I was kind of ­going through the motions, and I was involved with this program at school.

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We had to go to ­these stupid workshops. . . . ​I had to go to one of ­those meetings, the EOPS [Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices], what­ever, and I had to go b­ ecause that’s how you qualify for their program.” Then she met parent leaders from LIFETIME: “Well, I go to this workshop and LIFETIME is ­there, and it was good ­because ­there was this girl ­there and she was ­going to Berkeley, s­ he’d just graduated from Berkeley. And at that time I was like, okay, you go to school ­because that’s what ­you’re supposed to do, but I ­really ­didn’t see anything happening out of it. I think it’s b­ ecause I was already looking for jobs and ­there was nothing t­ here, and I was like, okay, this is just what you do. And then I saw the girl from Berkeley, and she was on welfare, and she had like three kids I think, and she had just gotten offered this awesome job in Washington [for] hecka money. And I was like, oh, okay, okay, good.” Twitch had arrived at a pivotal moment when the head of LIFETIME came up and said you should ­really come, so I started coming. And I was like, hmm, and it was ­really neat to get involved in something like that b­ ecause I’m already a person who stands up for themselves, but I kind of just forgot about it, like how to do it, so it was a good place for me to go to remember. . . . ​A nd that’s how it went, and I got involved with LIFETIME. And I saw other ­people in my same situation, frustrated, stressed out, happy, graduating—­you know, ­people like me. And I was like, okay, good, I can live a l­ ittle better, still stressed, but this is how you breathe. Okay, this is good. So I got involved in the organ­ization. . . . ​Well, first I was a parent leader, then I volunteered, then I worked t­ here. I’ve given a ­couple of workshops, I’ve gone with the head of LIFETIME around to dif­fer­ent places to tell about LIFETIME more.

LIFETIME’s pre­sen­ta­tions often resonated with student ­mothers and inspired them to become involved in the organ­ization. The resonance could be ­because of a par­tic­u­lar issue that they ­were interested in or a reminder of a forgotten aspect of their personality, which was triggered by the organ­ization’s way of engaging parents to advocate for themselves and ­others. Their involvement escalated ­because they connected with LIFETIME’s work. For Twitch and Jasmine, their po­liti­cal engagement, although requiring a time commitment, gave them strength and support to persevere in school while on welfare and motivated them to fight for that right for ­others. Nicole “found out about LIFETIME through CalWORKs ­because they came and did a pre­sen­ta­tion at our school and told us about what our rights ­were . . . ​­here on campus. What we need to do: advocate for yourself. And not only that—­I had issues with my [case]worker regarding transportation, and they had a transportation meeting that I was ­really interested in, and I got more involved.” LIFETIME often made pre­sen­ta­tions in workshops that w ­ ere

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required for parents on welfare or ­those involved in campus student parent programs. In Nicole’s case, her involvement escalated b­ ecause the organ­ization was po­liti­cally engaging with an issue of importance to her. While getting her prob­lem with transportation resolved with her caseworker, she became po­liti­ cally involved in helping make the situation better for other parents. Her involvement with LIFETIME started with this one concern. However, she stayed involved ­because she became aware of how her transportation prob­lem was tied to systemic issues with the welfare system. She realized that The purpose why I want to do [grassroots advocacy] is ­because me being a single parent on welfare, I felt that the organizing that LIFETIME did helped me become that person. And I want to do that for other p­ eople. And I feel like that if I was still in that same position, I d­ on’t think I would get much of the support that I did back then. I think that I would still be in that situation where, like most ­people are with their welfare-­to-­work, they ­don’t know what to do, how to advocate for themselves. So I would be in that same situation. So I have become more of a leader and a role model to other parents than I would have been four or five years ago. That’s the way I see it. That’s why I am passionate about the work that I do.

Thus, her engagement with the organ­ization created opportunities for her that ultimately led to a ­career in advocacy and grassroots politics. Although many of the parent leaders became involved with LIFETIME through the organ­ization’s workshops and pre­sen­ta­tions at community colleges and universities, m ­ others also got involved through referrals to LIFETIME’s advocacy ser­vices from other social ser­vice organ­izations. D related how she found out about the organ­ization in a time of crisis. ­Because the organ­ization helped her through that crisis, she became part of the parent leadership committee: I found out about LIFETIME—my youn­gest ­daughter was a hell-­raiser, she ­really was. And b­ ecause I stayed in [a domestic vio­lence shelter’s] transitional housing, I ­didn’t have the power to deal with it the way I wanted to deal with it. Okay. And foster care came into play, and they assigned me a neighborhood intervention program person. They d­ idn’t put her [the ­daughter] straight into foster care, they put an intervention, which was ­really cool. And the social worker for the intervention handed me the LIFETIME card b­ ecause I [had] just lost my job. And I applied for welfare ­because I ­didn’t have any income, and [my caseworker] told me, “forget [about] you needing some type of therapy, medical attention. Your butt’s g­ oing back to work. ­You’re highly intelligent, get your butt off to work. I ­don’t care if you have a m ­ ental breakdown, get your tail back to work.” So I said, “uh-oh, something’s wrong, I’m a spaz, I’m homeless,

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I’ve got a ­daughter, a teen, an adolescent who’s highly at risk. And you know, it says on this paper that y­ ou’re supposed to offer me counseling.” And she said, “your butt is ­going back to work.” So I told the [intervention] social worker, and she handed me LIFETIME’s card. . . . ​I picked up the phone. I called, and they gave me an earful. I went back to the caseworker, and I said, “they said that I have the right to get aid for my emotional, m ­ ental prob­lems. I had the right to seek [a] remedy for my health [prob­lems], and that is the law, and therefore I am demanding to get relief.” And she got all ner­vous [laughs]. And she said, “let me check on it, let me talk to my supervisor.” I said. “I’m not g­ oing anywhere.” When she came back, she said, “you have a six-­month waiver.” And I said, “thank you. I’m ­going to school, as I should.” . . . ​That was [in] 2003. . . . ​ They [LIFETIME] ­didn’t have to sell me. I went to their parent leadership summit, and I sat through that. And I called them, and I said I’d like to volunteer.

D’s narrative outlines LIFETIME’s central strategy of engaging ­women in grassroots politics. The organ­ization helps ­mothers meet their immediate needs by empowering parents to advocate for themselves at the welfare department through a system of peer-­mentoring and support. Usually this is done over the phone, as D illustrated with “and they gave me an earful”—in which she got the information she needed to challenge what her caseworker was requiring of her. As illustrated throughout this study, the “work first” approach has caseworkers forcing m ­ others on welfare to engage in work activities despite other crises in their lives that might exempt them from work requirements. For D—­who was homeless; recovering from severe domestic vio­lence that had left her permanently disabled by severe post-­traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), though she did not know that at the time of our first interview in 2006; and dealing with a special-­needs adolescent who was being considered for removal by the foster care system—­the “work first” approach was not what she needed or could even h ­ andle. LIFETIME effectively meets m ­ others like D where they are, helps them through their immediate crisis, and then invites them to be part of the effort to change the system that contributed to the crisis in the first place. For this reason, her engagement intensified, resulting in her continuing involvement. Phoebe was another m ­ other in crisis who found out about LIFETIME and became an active parent leader, challenging the welfare policies that she had initially feared. Phoebe was escaping domestic vio­lence and working through a difficult divorce, yet b­ ecause of her immigration status she was not certain that she would be allowed to remain in the United States ­after the divorce. She applied for welfare and enrolled in a local community college, where she met a parent leader at the CalWORKs orientation for her community college:

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During the orientation at [the community college] was when I met [the LIFETIME parent leader]. . . . ​[S]he was at the orientation, and she stood up and said, “I’m a member of LIFETIME, and I help students.” And it was like oh, and I wrote to them. So this was January, right, and I h ­ adn’t sent in my [required annual renewal form]. So I ­hadn’t sent it in, and I ­don’t know why—­I ­don’t know, for what­ever reason. And I had gotten a letter saying, “­we’re ­going to cut your welfare benefits off.” And I was like, “oh, God!” And I was scared of the p­ eople at welfare, and I had this sensation of p­ eople just fussing around me and asking me all kinds of ­things. And at the same time the bureaucracy was such—­you know, so heavy. And I was scared that anything I ­didn’t do correctly or [if] I overlooked something—­that was it, I’d be dropped ­because they w ­ ere very intense with that sort of stuff, you know. Six months if you d­ on’t report this correctly, and you’ll forever be sanctioned off welfare if you d­ on’t do that correctly. And that coupled with dealing with divorce and this and that and the other, you know, fearing that I’d be kicked out of the country b­ ecause I was getting divorced before my two years of conditional residency was up, you know, t­ here was just tons of ­legal stuff. And I felt like just constant [threats] to my existence, which was so fragile, so it was constantly scary. So when [the LIFETIME parent leader] stood up and said, “by the way I’ve got this t­ hing,” I was like, “ah.” So I wrote her this note . . . ​and she sent me it back and she said see me afterwards. So it was like okay, and that was that. She kind of took me ­under her wing . . . ​just somebody standing up and talking about LIFETIME and then ­going ­there and ­going to Sacramento and giving testimony.

Phoebe’s journey from being a ­mother in crisis escaping domestic vio­lence to testifying about welfare policy in front of lawmakers in Sacramento, although unusual for most welfare m ­ others, is almost typical for LIFETIME’s parent leaders. LIFETIME works to engage parents po­liti­cally and train them to be part of the policy-­making pro­cess, such as testifying at committee hearings, being members of community boards, and meeting with legislators and other policy makers. The organ­ization’s strategy of grassroots po­liti­cal engagement also builds on relationships that are formed between parent leaders, so that the ones who are further along on their educational journeys mentor the parents who are just starting. LIFETIME engages both in institutional politics—­such as participating in legislative briefings, hearings, and visits with policy makers, as illustrated in Phoebe’s narrative—­and in extra-­institutional grassroots politics such as sit-­ins, po­liti­cal theatre, and protest marches. One strength of LIFETIME’s approach to grassroots po­liti­cal engagement is training ­mothers on welfare to address the legislators who determine welfare policy. Phoebe and most of the other parent leaders have given testimony about welfare policies in Sacramento or in Washington. In some cases, the ­mothers bring their ­children with them. LIFETIME’s

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reasoning is that many policy makers do not know or have never even met a ­woman on public assistance. LIFETIME’s strategy is to make the m ­ atter personal by having ­mothers on welfare testify about their own experiences and thereby dispel myths about welfare ­mothers. The organ­ization hopes that this strategy ­will encourage policy makers to enact policies that are more in line with what LIFETIME is advocating. On more than one occasion, however, LIFETIME’s directors (themselves former welfare m ­ others) have been told not to bring welfare ­mothers (and especially their ­children) to state bud­get hearings or to meet with politicians on legislative visits ­because the ­mothers’ testimony makes the policy makers uncomfortable. The LIFETIME directors interpreted this request as evidence that their strategy is working and use the request as an impetus for more grassroots po­liti­cal briefings, protests, and meetings. Parent leaders developed an oppositional consciousness through participating in the leadership trainings, grassroots organ­izing meetings, and grassroots actions. Jasmine celebrated the impact of the organ­ization on her life: It’s had a tremendous impact on me in a very positive way, and it’s one of the key components and pillars in my life that r­ eally holds me together when I ­really feel despair and I feel t­ hose weak moments when I almost just want to give up. Um, I see all ­these other ­people still working on changing their lives, and that gives me the momentum to keep g­ oing. Other­wise it is so easy to give up in this kind of situation, b­ ecause it’s extremely challenging on a person. And organ­izations like LIFETIME—­they ­really know how to hold ­people together to keep moving forward. And that’s just been a ­really impor­tant part of my life—­more than anything ­else, ­because LIFETIME is my life, what LIFETIME does is my life. . . . ​One of my slogans in the big T-­shirt campaign I did at LIFETIME—­which was [a] very, very emotional and extremely intriguing experience for me, and that was back in January of 2003—­was I wrote on the back of one of the T-­shirts a slogan that said, “education is emancipation out of poverty.” And it is. And our lawmakers—­like I say when I go to Sacramento, sometimes I go up t­ here and I say. “I’d like to address you t­ oday with three key points before you vote on this par­tic­u­lar issue. First of all, you had a ­mother, you all had a m ­ other at one time in your life. Secondly, you all w ­ ere c­ hildren and most importantly, you all w ­ ouldn’t be sitting where you are ­today without an education. So think about ­these three components. So think about t­ hese three key components when you vote on this par­tic­u­lar policy ­today.” And a lot of times the policies are around low-­income families and ­children and education, and that’s the kind of work I do at LIFETIME, and I’m proud of it. And even when I gradu­ate I intend to continue with the work b­ ecause I am LIFETIME.

Her proclamation that “I am LIFETIME” exemplified the identity that parent leaders develop as activists with the organ­ization. Some parents do develop

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an oppositional consciousness central to their lives and po­liti­cal engagement. This identity as activists defines the main difference between parent leaders and ­women who are only clients of LIFETIME.

Using LIFETIME’s Peer Support as a Client Some ­mothers used LIFETIME’s social ser­vices without getting involved in the leadership trainings or grassroots politics. ­These clients ­were aware that the organ­ization sponsored parent leadership trainings and engaged in grassroots politics, but for a variety of reasons they ­were not involved in them. My research focused heavi­ly on parent leaders (n = 17) and slightly less on the organ­ization’s clients (n = 7) for a total of twenty-­four participants with LIFETIME as opposed to the twenty-­one w ­ omen in this research who did not participate at all with LIFETIME. Th ­ ere ­were many reasons why clients of LIFETIME ­were not engaged in the organ­ization’s po­liti­cal work, and for the most part they had not developed the oppositional consciousness that characterized ­those who became parent leaders. Some clients, like Gloria, ­were still in the ­middle of a crisis and had not moved past dealing with their personal issues to ongoing participation in parent leadership activities. Gloria, a thirty-­two-­year-­old Latina m ­ other of three and domestic vio­lence survivor, was pursuing an associate’s degree at a local community college. She was having extreme prob­lems with her caseworker and feared being cut off from welfare at any moment. She was working with LIFETIME on her case and explained her situation to me: In June, I was in an AC Transit [the bus system in Alameda County] bus accident. Despite my injury, my [case]worker is still pushing me to work—­the twenty core hours and the twelve noncore hours. My worker pushed me into [a] job search: she wants me to find a job. I am trying to negotiate with her about an internship. I show proof that my son has PTSD and is in therapy for anxiety. I also put my other son into therapy to make sure he ­doesn’t have any prob­lems, ­because his grades w ­ ere ­going down. Each child’s prob­lems manifest themselves in dif­fer­ent ways. My youn­gest son and I ­were in the AC Transit bus accident. . . . ​I think that ­mental health activities should count t­ owards the core activities. But my worker says that they are not enough—­she needs more specific or worse m ­ ental health. She ­hasn’t honored my pain. She acts like this even more now that LIFETIME is involved. I am ­going to fight their actions to my worker’s boss. She contradicts her supervisor and tells him the county policy. . . . ​[T]he supervisor said the only way we can honor your exemption is if I drop my classes. . . . ​He told me this b­ ecause I was ­there by myself. LIFETIME was not ­there—­they have a lot of authority. I did not cry then. I would

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not let them see me cry. The supervisor says the way that we can tell if you are ­under a lot of stress is if you stop g­ oing to school ­because of it. He says that is the way the system works. They wanted me to sign something that said this, but I would not sign it.

Gloria was told about LIFETIME by the CalWORKs advisor at her college ­because the county caseworker was pressuring her to quit school. She was working with the organ­ization to stay in school and get access to the m ­ ental health ser­vices that she and her ­children needed. However, at the time of the interview, Gloria was in such a precarious situation in her personal life that she turned down LIFETIME’s offers to participate in ongoing parent leadership activities ­after she came to the organ­ization for help with her case. Although some of the parent leaders, as discussed above, got involved despite their ongoing personal crises, some ­mothers, like Gloria, did not get further involved or waited ­until their crisis passed. Another m ­ other, Daria, was also aware of LIFETIME’s leadership trainings and grassroots po­liti­cal activities but was not involved in them. Instead, she used just one of the ser­vices that the organ­ization offers, EARN, an Individual Development Account (IDA) program administered by LIFETIME but funded by another organ­ization. When I asked Daria if she used any of  LIFETIME’s ser­vices, she said: “No. EARN is the only one that I am involved in. And that is fantastic. . . . ​I am in EARN—­that program rocks! Save a thousand [dollars], and we w ­ ill give you two more! Okay. Twist my arm. I think it is save two thousand and they give you four. So you end up with six thousand dollars. . . . ​I am in the pro­cess. In the pro­cess, I think that I designated that I wanted to use it on a down payment on a ­house. That is my goal . . . ​to keep working and be able to get into a h ­ ouse so that I can stop paying rent.” Although Daria was involved with the EARN program through LIFETIME, she did not engage in any of the organ­ization’s other ser­vices or activities. This may not be unusual for the EARN clients, as this pattern was also seen with other m ­ others in this study. Nicole C. explained to me why she had been unable to move from being a client to participating in the leadership trainings and grassroots po­liti­cal activities. She had learned about LIFETIME actually ­here on campus. They ­were ­doing an IDA ­thing h ­ ere, and then that’s how I met the person for the first time at this center. . . . ​I do have an IDA account, and just from working ­here we have had contact with them ­because they come h ­ ere and work through our center and through the state center and ­things like the resource fair, and t­ hey’ve advocated for me with CalWORKs. . . . ​ It’s been someone that I know that I can call. And it’s just good to know that

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t­ here’s somebody, b­ ecause I guess they have attorneys, and they are p­ eople who have been ­there, too. They know ­things, and they know that ­you’re not lying about what’s happening, and they know that this crazy stuff actually r­ eally does happen. And so that feels good.

I asked her if she had been to one of LIFETIME’s parent leadership meetings. She replied, “No. I mean, I get the notices telling me all the g­ reat t­ hings that they do, and I would like to. But my schedule is so crazy that—­and even the ­things that I need to go to for the IDA, and they have child care ­there. I’m like, okay, do I go ­there, or can I try to pass my math class. So I’m always making ­these choices of this or you know, and it’s always something. And it’s a stress always.” Nicole C. felt that the stress and demands of her daily life prevented her from participating in the grassroots po­liti­cal activities that the organ­ization sponsors. Her perspective was shared by many of the other ­mothers, even the most involved parent leaders. Their daily lives and time constraints prevented them from being as involved as they wanted to be. However, another m ­ other, Dena, was trying to get LIFETIME to advocate for her but did not feel that she was connecting with them. Although she wanted to be more involved with the organ­ization, she needed to get her issues resolved first. She said: “You know what? I’m kind of bummed out about LIFETIME, as a ­matter of fact. ­Because I went out t­ here, met with [a staff member], I’ve told them all that stuff. Nobody wants to follow up. They just told me, ‘okay, well, follow up with a hearing.’ I’ll talk to them a ­little bit. Sometimes I’ll leave messages, and I d­ on’t get phone calls back. Fi­nally, I just got one back in the day by a lady that I met at some calculator training some months ago. But I was working with [a dif­fer­ent staff member] on this a ­little while ago . . . ​and I did that and I never heard from anybody out ­there again, so . . . ​­isn’t that in­ter­ est­ing?” Like any organ­ization, LIFETIME occasionally has clients or participants who feel that their needs are not being fully met. I interviewed a few ­mothers who wished that LIFETIME would follow up with them more quickly. Through my work with the organ­ization and conversations with staff members, I observed that the staff worked hard to ensure that clients and parent leaders got the support they needed. As in many organ­izations, however, ­things did occasionally fall through the cracks. Dena was interested in getting more involved and moving from being a client to participating in one of the parent leadership trainings, but ­until her case issues ­were addressed she did not want to invest the time. Although Dena was the only participant who directly articulated this perspective—­that her involvement would be ­limited u­ ntil her case was handled more directly—­there may have been other clients of LIFETIME who ­were not participants in this study who would eventually become more involved once they resolved their welfare case issues.

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Potential Participants I recruited participants for this study from attendees at the mandatory workshops for CalWORKs students at the community colleges. LIFETIME contributed to some of ­these workshops. Two of the participants I interviewed ­were newly familiar with the organ­ization but w ­ ere not currently involved with it. In addition, other participants in this study w ­ ere aware that LIFETIME existed but did not plan to be involved with it. They w ­ ere glad that the organ­ization existed and w ­ ere aware of its ser­vices and programs but did not feel that they currently needed them. Thus, even some of the m ­ others who did not use the organ­ization knew of its ser­vices and leadership meetings and that they could call it if they wanted to participate or needed assistance. Alexis, a twenty-­five-­ year-­old Latina m ­ other of one and UC Berkeley student, commented: “I know that they exist. Umm, they also work on the welfare policies, that they are proactively working to change some of the welfare—­them policies like the caps that exist right now. That’s pretty much what I know about them.” However, t­ here w ­ ere two m ­ others who ­were hoping to get involved with or ­were already becoming involved with LIFETIME. When I asked if Courtney, a twenty-­eight-­year-­old white ­mother of four and community college student, knew of the organ­ization, she explained that she had “heard of it just recently. I am hoping to become a member, I want to be a member. I want to go with them to Fresno on Thursday. I want to become involved strongly as much as pos­si­ble—so LIFETIME, yay!” Another m ­ other, RBS, a twenty-­seven-­year-­old Filipino ­mother of one and community college student, said: “Yes, I was trying to, umm, go to one of their meetings or summits that they have, but I missed the deadline.” She had found out about LIFETIME “through a brochure h ­ ere at the CalWORKs office” e­ arlier that year and wanted to get involved. Although RBS had found out about LIFETIME through a passive means instead of an active one such as a workshop, she was still interested in participating in a leadership training and finding out more about grassroots politics. Most of the ­women I interviewed reported being recruited to LIFETIME via active methods, yet passive ones like brochures and flyers may have worked for other groups of the organ­ization’s clients. ­Whether or not student parents who used LIFETIME’s advocacy ser­vices got involved in grassroots politics, the organ­ization did a remarkable job of connecting parents’ personal crises with a critique of welfare policy and the broader social issues of poverty and economic justice. This connection resonated with many ­mothers and encouraged them to become more involved. As the next section illustrates, their involvement with LIFETIME affected their personal narratives about poverty and higher education. Getting involved with the organ­ization linked their individual perspectives and narratives to ­those of other parents and the broader social issues. However, for m ­ others on welfare

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in college in the Bay Area at this time, their experiences in higher education likely benefited in some way from the work the organ­ization did, even if they ­were not involved with LIFETIME or had not even heard of it. LIFETIME worked to raise awareness about t­ hese issues, advocated broadly for student parents on welfare in local, state, and national welfare policies, and worked with advocates on all of the college campuses in the area.

Differences in Narratives The narratives of ­women who participated in LIFETIME differed significantly from the narratives of t­ hose who did not, particularly in the way the w ­ omen framed their participation in the welfare system, how they expressed their sense of support while pursuing higher education, and the policies they suggested. ­These distinctions resulted in part from a difference in educational attainment between t­ hose who w ­ ere actively engaged in LIFETIME and t­ hose who w ­ ere not. Eigh­teen ­mothers ­were pursuing or had completed bachelor’s or master’s degrees. Of t­ hose, four w ­ ere not involved with LIFETIME; however, all four ­were in their first year at college. In contrast, the fourteen ­mothers who w ­ ere active in LIFETIME (six clients and eight parent leaders) ­were ­either completing their bachelor’s degree or had graduated. A few had even moved on to gradu­ate school.15 The more advanced students had the most distinctive narratives. Their journey through higher education while on welfare was complicated and eye-­opening. They w ­ ere the participants most likely to understand oppositional consciousness from their lived experiences and to have learned about critiques of power in college courses along the way. ­Mothers further along in their education came to LIFETIME aware of some of ­these ideas, and the organ­ization’s leadership trainings often solidified ideas and concepts that they had been exposed to in college. The approach was dif­fer­ent, but the result was similar—­their oppositional consciousness was awakened. In chapter 2, I explored the pathways and circumstances that ­mothers identified as key to their pursuit of higher education while participating in the welfare system. M ­ others who w ­ ere engaged with LIFETIME ranged across all five of ­those pathways. However, the way they framed their participation in the welfare system was slightly dif­fer­ent from the framing used by ­mothers who ­were not engaged with the organ­ization. The LIFETIME participants discussed their use of welfare assistance as a right that they had as citizens, rather than as something shameful. They cited their rights ­under the welfare system, and in many cases they had fought for ­those rights through grassroots po­liti­cal engagement. Although this difference sounds explicit, it comes through in their narratives in subtle ways. The best way to illustrate this point is by examining the way that ­mothers discussed their shame and the stigma they felt about participating in the welfare system.

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The ­mothers who ­were not involved with LIFETIME discussed this shame and stigma in internalized ways. For example, Misha explained that she does not talk about welfare ­because it is embarrassing, and she worried what ­others would think if they knew she was on aid: I ­don’t talk about that. That’s embarrassing. I d­ on’t talk about that. And I ­don’t know, I just—no, I ­don’t. . . . ​I would feel very ashamed if somebody asked me. You know, “ohhhh, ­you’re on welfare.” I would feel ashamed ­because they are ­going to keep that in their head. And you c­ an’t say that they ­don’t go home and talk about that, b­ ecause I know that I have gone home and talked about certain t­ hings that have happened at work And you know—­a nd then if you come in t­ here and you are dressed nice, and you are telling them that you are on aid, they are ­going to look at you up and down, like how did you get all of that, if you know you are on aid. I think that they have a picture of what a person on welfare is supposed to look like.

Angela explained how she felt that the welfare system shamed and stigmatized her. Her perspective was that the welfare system wanted her, as an individual, to fail. She explained that “the government is helping me, you know, [but] sometimes I feel like—­that they ­don’t want us to succeed . . . ​that the government would have a personal grudge against me.” Both Misha’s and Angela’s perspectives about shame suggest the many ways that the welfare system, and society as a ­whole, tries to make ­women feel ashamed of using welfare assistance. The shaming of welfare ­mothers has been well chronicled by other researchers.16 Along t­ hese lines, in No Shame in My Game Katherine Newman explored how low-­wage workers try to create identities in their work that are not based on this culture of shaming the poor.17 Creating a culture of shame for welfare ­mothers and low-­wage workers highlights how society attempts to blame individuals for their economic circumstances. However, the ­mothers involved with LIFETIME w ­ ere more likely to resist internalizing the shame. In some cases they explic­itly externalized it and explained how American society tries to create a culture that overtly shames ­mothers on welfare. They ­were critical of this culture of shame and outlined how the welfare system—­and caseworkers specifically—­shame ­women who use social ser­vice programs. Their stance attempted to shift the responsibility off individuals who are poor and to uncover the structural dynamics of poverty. They pointed out the po­liti­cal advantages of blaming individuals, specifically single m ­ others who are often members of minority groups, for their need to use welfare. Part of the re­sis­tance of shame is accomplished by explaining that ­mothers have earned the right to use a necessary resource. For instance, Jasmine responded to ­people who tried to make her feel ashamed that she was on welfare by pointing out the realities of her life and her self-­actualization as a

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productive member of society. Laughing, she said: “A lot of ­people say that I ­shouldn’t be using their tax dollars to go to school on, that I should go and get a job. A lot of ­people think that I’m wasting my time, a lot of ­people think that I’m taking on school just as an excuse not to go to work.” I asked: “How did that make you feel? What did you say to them?” She said: Well, my response was—um, I felt offended and hurt, but at the same token, I explained to them in full context. I said, “listen, I’ve worked for fifteen years in the ser­vice industry paying taxes, and now my taxes are paying for me to get back into the work industry to pay more taxes, and even more than I did before. So this is a springboard and a fair exchange in e­ very way.” So I look at it this way—­I’m r­ eally paying for my school at the end of the day, ­because I did my part out ­there. I worked, and I worked very hard, and unfortunately the kind of work that I had was low wage and had no kind of f­ uture potential in it. And now it’s time for me to ­really consider that, due to the fact that I have a f­ amily to take care of. That’s been usually [what] my defense is—­that I’m giving back what I’m getting, and I w ­ ill give back what I’m getting.

In Jasmine’s response, she outlined the ways that she was an active—­and tax-­ paying—­participant in society, and why she should not feel ashamed to use social ser­vice programs, since she had participated in the institutions that supported them. In this way, she was refusing to accept the conservative welfare rhe­toric that produces shame. Jasmine’s perspective was akin to t­ hose that LIFETIME uses in its trainings.18 Through the parent leadership trainings, LIFETIME attempts to help ­mothers reclaim the identity of “welfare m ­ other” and externalize the shame and stigma, or at least recognize that being on welfare is not their fault and is a product of the conservative framing of the welfare debate. Another m ­ other, Tony, linked the shaming with assumptions by policy makers about what families on welfare need, instead of focusing on what citizens want in their country. She explained: More than anything, the ­women that are on CalWORKs—­the w ­ omen and men that are on CalWORKs that are raising c­ hildren and are trying to get a better education are already dealing with life situations that are very challenging. [They] are already dealing with [situations] that are very complex. And so to kinda—­I guess” pigeonhole” is the word that I am looking for—to pigeonhole p­ eople into your own preconceived notions of what a social policy should look like, based on what you want your city to look like or what­ever just ­doesn’t make any sense. ­Because p­ eople are individuals, and their lives are complex, and their issues are complex. And I d­ on’t think that it is a m ­ atter of p­ eople needing life skills training—it is all about policy, it is all about the top. If the top had a

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dif­fer­ent conceptual view of what their country should look like; who its citizens are; what they want their state, or county, or cities to look like; and kinda [had] a humanistic or holistic view of it, ­things would be much better. ­People are very arrogantly creating policies that have absolutely nothing to do with any research or anything but their own life experience, basically only along with their own biases about o­ thers out ­there. Th ­ ere is a huge disconnect between policy and practice.

Tony’s assessment that policy makers “pigeonhole” participants into what they expect welfare parents to be like was ­shaped by her activist work and that of other LIFETIME parent leaders. LIFETIME challenges policy makers to question ­these assumptions. Tony attributed her perspective to her participation in LIFETIME and the organ­ization’s framing of the welfare debate. In addition, Tony’s analy­sis was drawn from her educational experiences at UC Berkley in an interdisciplinary major that focused on issues of social justice. ­Mothers who ­were involved with LIFETIME, ­whether deeply or through just a few parent leadership trainings or po­liti­cal activities, ­adopted some of the perspectives that LIFETIME uses—­which are sharply critical of the way that conservatives frame welfare issues and which support progressive social justice movements. The framing of shame and attempts to reject stigmatization that the ­mothers demonstrated in their narratives are the best overt example of how LIFETIME training helps ­mothers move from an internal analy­sis of their use of welfare to an external one.

Conclusion Through participation in grassroots activism, such as by being a LIFETIME parent leader, ­mothers on welfare develop a distinct difference in their narratives: they express less internalization of the shame and stigma associated with being on welfare, a greater sense of support while on welfare, and an awareness of the structural inequalities in society and in the policy making pro­cess. Hence, they have more macro-­level social policy suggestions. Participation in LIFETIME gave the ­mothers I interviewed a stronger voice in the pro­cess, helping them see themselves as experts on living in poverty. Therefore, their ideas for social policies and about how the welfare reform policies are implemented w ­ ere more structural in nature. Parent leaders illustrate a central concept about democracy: decisions should be made by t­ hose affected by them. However, the question that remains is ­whether being involved in LIFETIME and grassroots activism helped m ­ others survive higher education, find meaning in their education, build c­ areers a­ fter graduation, compete in the ­labor market, and achieve long-­term economic stability.

4

Survival through College

Betty, a white, thirty-­nine-­year-­old m ­ other of one, was raised on welfare a­ fter her m ­ other had her at age fifteen. A ­ fter sixth grade graduation Betty attended school only intermittently, fi­nally dropping out of high school ­after she got her first job. She then moved out of her mom’s ­house and into a ­house with some friends, and shortly afterward she started taking drugs. Over the next ten years her drug use and addiction escalated, but she worked off and on in the ser­vice industry. She got pregnant and had a ­daughter while addicted to drugs, so a­ fter the birth she was jailed, and her two-­day-­old d­ aughter was taken away from her. With the support of her ­family, Betty sought treatment. She first enrolled in a community college as a requirement of her drug treatment fa­cil­i­ty, which also helped her get onto welfare and regain custody of her ­daughter when she was six months old. Despite never graduating from high school, Betty earned two associate’s degrees and gained enough confidence in her academic abilities that she transferred to a local state university. Notwithstanding the fact that she had a learning disability, Betty earned a bachelor’s degree and started working ­toward a master’s in social work. Through all of this Betty participated in the California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs) system and worked part time at Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME) as an advocate helping other ­mothers. Betty explained to me in 2006 that “survival to me means knowing that I ­w ill be able to pay my rent and bills to have a roof over our heads, be able to go to school, and deal with the welfare system, and stay sane and not get 82

Survival through College  •  83

depressed as I get through this w ­ hole pro­cess.” Despite strict regulations and time limits imposed by welfare, Betty is evidence that some ­mothers do pursue higher education while on welfare. For them, education is a route out of poverty. Since the reformed welfare policy explic­itly limits participants’ pursuit of higher education, w ­ omen students in CalWORKs must learn how to survive and resist the welfare system to complete their education. The m ­ others I interviewed constructed survival narratives, personal stories they told themselves and ­others about how they planned to achieve their goals, to give meaning to their strug­gles to pursue higher education while on welfare and explain how they resisted work first policies. To Betty and the other CalWORKs m ­ others who participated in this study, survival meant engaging in what­ever activity they could, within their moral framework, to provide for themselves and their ­children while using available resources to complete school and participate in the welfare system. ­These survival narratives illustrate the contradictions between the value of education in American society as a way to pursue the American Dream and the policies of welfare reform that makes it difficult to achieve the same goal. The institutional objectives of the two systems are contradictory. In the reformed welfare system, ­women are expected to tell their caseworker about ­every aspect of their lives, including how much money they make, how they spend their time, and the names of the ­fathers of their ­children. The welfare system’s rules are based on the ideas that ­women need motivating and that they ­will cheat the system if given the opportunity. However, in higher education, the focus is almost the opposite. Federal rules protect student privacy, and pursuing higher education is centered on individual motivation and willingness to learn. Students who participate in both systems are often caught in the ­middle, facing bureaucratic hurdles, navigating forms and regulations that are in direct conflict with each other, and negotiating between caseworkers and college faculty or staff members who may be wholly unfamiliar with the other system. Although higher education is usually a respected route for getting ahead in the ­labor market, this is not an endorsed strategy for ­women participating in the welfare system. Yet the ­women who do pursue higher education while on welfare are applauded by politicians and advocates for their efforts and have been described by policy makers as the most motivated of the ­women on welfare.1 At the same time, ­mothers on welfare and pursuing higher education are severely penalized by the welfare system for being so motivated and must fight ­every step of the way to stay in school. Their survival narratives are significant ­because of this contradiction. They are trying to use a socially accepted path to change their economic status (that is, higher education) in a social institution (the welfare system) that explic­itly limits access to that path ­because of negative social ste­reo­types about the participants—­while praising them individually

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for being so motivated. To survive their attempts to change their economic status and earn a degree while participating in two contradictory systems, the ­mothers construct survival narratives and employ survival strategies to resist ­those policies, justify their welfare use and personhood, and persevere through school t­ oward their American Dream. Patricia Hill Collins contends that t­ here is a “private, hidden space of Black ­women’s consciousness, the ‘inside’ ideas that allow Black ­women to cope with, and in most cases, transcend the confines of race, class, and gender oppression.”2 ­These “inside” ideas are both theoretical and practical, and they are critical to building theories that reflect ­women’s on-­the-­ground experiences of challenging oppression, such as the survival narratives constructed by m ­ others on welfare and pursuing higher education. However, concrete, practical strategies help ­women endure their daily strug­gles, and the narratives about ­those strategies are explored ­here. In this chapter, I examine the individual and collective strategies that student m ­ others constructed to get by. As they constructed their narratives, ­mothers also networked with other ­mothers to share their survival strategies. By relating their individual survival narratives and strategies to me in the interviews and to other ­women—as well as through their participation in grassroots organ­izations—­the m ­ others w ­ ere helping themselves and each other survive from day to day and challenge systems of oppression by engaging in re­sis­tance against it. By revealing how they constructed narratives of survival, the ­women questioned and resisted the social policies in which they must create narratives and strategies of survival to participate in the welfare program. Fi­nally, the m ­ others used their narratives as a lens through which to critically assess welfare reform, outlining it as a failed policy for student parents on welfare. Other scholars have explored aspects of t­ hese issues; the contribution of this chapter is its focus on two issues: how the ­mothers navigated the conflicting expectations of higher education and the welfare system, and how participating in LIFETIME, a grassroots advocacy organ­ization, helped them survive. The w ­ omen who participate in the welfare system often feel that they must justify their receipt of welfare to the public and themselves. Sharon Hays found in her research with m ­ others on welfare that the w ­ omen would survive with or without welfare, but they ­were interested in telling their stories not to “convince listeners that they ­were worthy of continued welfare receipt” but instead “with the hope that they would be recognized not simply as a composite of clichés, but as w ­ hole persons.”3 Through telling their stories about welfare, poverty, and higher education, the w ­ omen in this study w ­ ere striving to be recognized as “­whole persons” who are allowed to pursue the American Dream and strive to have the same opportunity that many other Americans desire—to get a postsecondary education.

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Studying Survival Narratives Studying the survival narratives that m ­ others construct about pursuing higher education while participating in the welfare system is useful for examining systems of oppression and exploring how current welfare policy necessitates ­these survival narratives. Catherine Kohler Riessman found that for “the so­cio­log­i­ cally oriented investigator, studying narratives is additionally useful for what they reveal about social life—­culture ‘speaks itself ’ through an individual’s story,” and “it is pos­si­ble to examine gender inequalities, racial oppression, and other practices of power that may be taken for granted by individual speakers.”4 Furthermore, as Melissa Latimer observes, the narratives and policy suggestions of ­those most affected by social policies, specifically welfare reform, are seldom “systematically examined.”5 As discussed in reference to Collins’s “inside ideas” above, the survival narratives and the on-­the-­ground strategies employed by the m ­ others are consistent with the idea of “hidden transcripts” that James Scott discusses in Domination and the Arts of Re­sis­tance.6 Scott contends that, “like most large-­scale structures of domination, the subordinate group has a fairly extensive offstage social existence which, in princi­ple, affords it the opportunity to develop a shared critique of power.”7 In their “extensive offstage existence,” the ­mothers I studied networked with other m ­ others through campus groups and grassroots organ­izing to develop and share a wide range of survival strategies. Furthermore, the ­mothers—­particularly the ones involved in LIFETIME—­used their survival narratives to “develop a shared critique of power” that conveyed the irony of welfare reform. Welfare reform was what created a system requiring its most motivated participants to find survival strategies for pursuing higher education and craft the narratives that accompany ­those strategies. It is also useful to explore how ­these narratives illustrate the student ­mothers’ re­sis­tance to current welfare policies. Yvonne Luna, in her focus group research with welfare ­mothers in Arizona, explored how single welfare ­mothers engage in overt and covert re­sis­tance against the welfare system, finding that many of the ­mothers “engaged in re­sis­tance to shape an identity that transcends the ste­ reo­type.”8 The w ­ omen I interviewed ­were also interested in transcending the ste­reo­types and used their narratives to explain how they resisted the current welfare reform policies. The survival narratives presented h ­ ere illustrate the w ­ omen’s unique position of trying to change their economic status by pursuing higher education while on welfare.9 Many of the ­women in this study tried working first but ­were still poor, while o­ thers quickly returned to welfare ­because of their vulnerable status in the ­labor market. ­Because ­these work first strategies w ­ ere not successful, the ­women believed that pursuing higher education would make them less vulnerable in the l­ abor market, a belief robustly supported by research.10 Th ­ ese

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­ others attempted to change their economic status and position in the social m structure by enrolling in higher education for the l­ imited time that they w ­ ere eligible for welfare benefits.

The Costs of Pursuing Higher Education While on Welfare However, pursuing higher education while participating in the postreform welfare system has real and multiple personal costs for ­mothers on welfare, and the m ­ others I interviewed discussed t­ hose costs in their narratives. As well as outlining the costs—­including sacrifices of their m ­ ental health, greater financial aid debt, and lost time with their families—­the ­mothers explained how they survived them. Th ­ ese are “inside ideas,” to use Collins’s words, and in many cases the ­mothers had not spoken about ­these costs to ­others before. However, the participants found it empowering to say them aloud and then discuss how they survived them. The primary personal cost of g­ oing to school while on welfare was the impact it had on the ­women’s m ­ ental health. Participants led very stressful, fragile lives, and attending school u­ nder a reformed welfare policy took a toll. Jasmine revealed that “I suffer from extreme anxiety and depression, and the depression kicked in shortly a­ fter I got on welfare. . . . ​I find it extremely challenging, and ­every day is like a delicate balance for me to sustain this momentum. . . . ​ It’s creating tremendous, extreme anxiety and stress upon me. So to be honest with you, it would be a hell of a lot easier, ­people, if I went out and found a decent job than go to school and do all the t­ hings that I do in my life. But unfortunately ­there’s no work out ­there for someone with my qualifications right now, so I have to take the long road and have to juggle a delicate balance in my life e­ very day.” As a group of collaborators led by Miriam Stewart found, low-­income ­people feel more socially isolated and have a “lower sense of belonging” than p­ eople with higher incomes.11 The m ­ others in my research described feeling socially isolated while on welfare and noted that the welfare regulations, especially the pressure of the time clock, added to that sense of isolation. However, ­going to school and being part of an academic community helped decrease their sense of isolation. Nicole C. also described the impact on her ­mental health, particularly in light of the time limits of Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF): I just ­don’t think it should be this much of a stress and this difficult to just do. . . . ​They tell you, you only have this much time [on welfare], so why are you trying to sabotage the time that I have? I get headaches. I d­ on’t sleep at night ­because I’m worried about stuff. I’m stressed out b­ ecause of all t­ hese notices that I get saying ­you’re ­going to get cut off, y­ ou’re not getting this, not getting that, no housing, no child care. . . . ​A nd it only makes sense to me logically that

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if I can get through this short time h ­ ere, then I ­won’t need [welfare] again. And it’ll make me better, it’ll make my kids better. . . . ​Every­thing ­will benefit for it, so why are you making it so difficult? . . . ​A nd it’s hard for me to do that ­because I feel like a failure. . . . ​It ­really seems as though ­you’re just trying to run me into the ground. . . . ​It’s ­really frustrating. . . . ​I think we come out a lot stronger and every­thing in the end . . . ​but that’s only if we make it. And I know that I’m r­ eally determined, and I know that this is my only chance, and I know that. So I’m trying every­thing I can to make it.

Nicole C., Jasmine, and most of the other w ­ omen I interviewed strug­gled with the cost to their m ­ ental health imposed by working to meet the reformed welfare regulations ­under the time limits. Most wondered if they should quit school. They described the emotional cost of being on welfare and in school as severe and detrimental, but they believed that if they could survive their ­limited time in school, they would have greater opportunities in the ­labor market to benefit themselves and their families. In addition, the ­women who finished school cited increased self-­esteem as one of the primary benefits of their education. Jasmine was also involved with LIFETIME. One of the primary goals of LIFETIME’s work was to help m ­ others understand that the stress and anxiety they feel from being on welfare and g­ oing to school is not an individual issue, but a structural one. Jasmine traced her trajectory with the organ­ization: “I came to LIFETIME as a client about my case, being forced to quit school. And from that time, my development with LIFETIME has been ­really positive and uplifting for me.” She felt that her involvement with the organ­ization “had opened up a r­ eally big door for me in e­ very way. It kind of brought me out of my shell. I ­didn’t feel like I was the only one in the world and isolated in this situation. It showed me that ­there are other ­people out ­there facing similar barriers and challenges like myself, and a lot of p­ eople at that.” Jasmine’s narrative about how she came to be involved with the organ­ization included a thread that was common in many of the LIFETIME m ­ others’ narratives: She had thought that she was alone in her experience of pursuing higher education while in the welfare system. However, when she met a member of the organ­ization, she found out that she was not alone. Jasmine became an active participant in grassroots politics by joining LIFETIME, whose main purpose is to empower parents to work collectively on grassroots campaigns to change welfare policies—­ thereby developing a “shared critique of power,” as Scott calls it. Even though ­women became empowered by this “shared critique,” that did not eliminate the practical financial challenges they faced. Another personal cost of g­ oing to school while in the reformed welfare system was incurring significant financial aid debt. M ­ others relied on financial aid and loans to pay educational and living expenses. However, most federal and state educational

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financial aid did not cover additional costs for students who have dependent c­ hildren.12 Michelle was pregnant with her second child while enrolled in community college, and she told me that she and her ­daughter w ­ ere actually g­ oing hungry u­ ntil her financial aid check came: “So I’m kind of struggling on the food side right now, ­because I’ve still got the same amount of money. I’ve only been surviving b­ ecause I’ve recently got my school money, so that’s kind of balancing me out.” Student financial aid, ­whether from grants or loans, was often cited by the ­women as critical to their financial survival. However, financial aid checks, like welfare grants, are often late and smaller than anticipated, or are loans that create substantial debt that the ­mothers ­will eventually have to repay. Research finds that students who are single parents experience greater financial difficulties and incur 20–30 ­percent more student loan debt than students without ­children.13 Almost all the ­mothers in this research had student loan debt and strug­gled with how to make ends meet while on welfare and in school. Furthermore, the systems of financial aid and welfare ­were not always integrated as required by regulations.14 In most cases, state or federal financial aid for education does not count as income, and therefore financial aid should not affect the amount of a welfare cash grant. In practice, individual caseworkers in the welfare system and the individual financial aid officers at each campus determined how t­ hese systems interacted. Each of t­ hese line staff members could be wholly unfamiliar with the rules and regulations of the other system, and much misinformation was generated. Unfortunately, this misinformation had a real cost for the already vulnerable m ­ others who w ­ ere enrolled in or attempting to go to school while on welfare. Almost all the participants in this study strug­gled at one point or another with their caseworkers and school financial aid officers to make the two systems work together. As just one example, Jewel was in the pro­cess of enrolling in a local community college. She related her strug­gle between welfare and financial aid: “As soon as [the welfare system] hear[s] ­you’re getting [financial aid] money, they cut you off. Which ­don’t make no sense to me, ­because we ­don’t even have enough money to survive on.” Although this was not supposed to happen, often the welfare system counted financial aid as income and decreased participants’ welfare cash grants. The participants who knew this was not supposed to happen often fought the m ­ istake with caseworkers to have their welfare grants reinstated. However, like many caseworkers, some ­mothers in this study did not know the exact terms of the regulation, and this misinformation could have discouraged ­others from pursuing education. Even when m ­ others had supportive caseworkers and supportive university staff members, the two systems had not been designed with the regulations of the other system in mind, so errors and prob­lems frequently occurred. This was another way that LIFETIME empowered ­mothers, by teaching them more about the financial aid system and how it was supposed

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to work with welfare aid. LIFETIME also worked with local campuses to host workshops on this issue for student parents and campus staff members. The strug­gle between time with their c­ hildren and study time or time spent in work participation activities to comply with welfare requirements was another cost of survival for the ­mothers. One often came at the expense of the other. Courtney examined her strug­g le between time with her son and time for her homework: “I’m losing time with my son. All the reading and all the homework d­ oesn’t mean anything, b­ ecause how are you g­ oing to get t­ here ­unless you do it? You have to do it. . . . ​So the major disadvantage is not being with my son as much, always having to shoo him away b­ ecause I’m in the m ­ iddle of a paragraph. I mean that’s tough. . . . ​Balancing that is tough, ­because my son is impor­tant, but also is school.” Courtney’s strug­gle revealed what most of the ­mothers I interviewed felt: ­going to school while on welfare created a daily ­battle in which they had to choose between ­doing their own schoolwork, complying with the welfare participation requirements, and spending time with their ­children. Although this conflict is not unfamiliar to any m ­ other in school and/or working, b­ ecause of the precarious balance ­mothers on welfare must achieve to stay in school, their strug­gle to find time to be with their c­ hildren, study, and comply with welfare participation may be greater. Although the ­mothers acknowledged that ­there w ­ ere costs to being a parent while in school and on welfare, they constructed their narratives of survival to give meaning to their strug­gle and empower themselves to keep ­going in a system that was convinced they would fail.

Constructing Survival Narratives In their narratives, the ­mothers I interviewed reflected on their efforts to stay in school and discussed how they responded to the multiple prob­lems they experienced in their daily lives. Their narratives of survival w ­ ere both personal “hidden transcripts” and “inside ideas” in that they ­were the messages that the ­mothers used to convince themselves to persevere. Through this study, t­ hese “hidden transcripts” and “inside ideas” became public narratives of survival. The m ­ others’ narratives ­were individual, but I discuss below in the chapter, the narratives ­were also collective in their critique of the welfare system. The ­mothers constructed their narratives around the varied techniques they used to survive, which included convincing themselves that failure was not an option, guarding against losing themselves, accessing available resources, outsmarting the system, and d­ oing what­ever was necessary to make ends meet. Often they had to survive one day at a time. ­These are the common themes that appeared throughout the ­mothers’ narratives of survival, illustrating covert forms of re­sis­tance, and frequently several of ­these themes appeared interwoven in the m ­ others’ narratives.

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Betty’s narrative exemplified her determination to finish school: “Sometimes I feel as though I’ve been struggling for so long, and it’s never g­ oing to get better—­and not just I should say fuck it, but I keep telling myself, ‘Betty, you have made it this far, ­you’ve got into this program, ­you’re not as smart as some of the other p­ eople t­ here.’ But I just have to remind myself maybe I’m smarter in other ways and I have more experience, so I just have to keep saying that. And I know that I’ve come this far and I ­can’t give up, but it’s hard.” In Betty’s survival narrative, she reminded herself of how far she had come and that she must continue b­ ecause failure was not an option. She acknowledged her frustrations and daily strug­gles, but she used her narrative as motivation to push herself forward t­ oward her goal of completing her degree. Sydney, a black m ­ other of three who had recently finished her bachelor’s degree and was now off welfare and working full time in her field, warned against losing oneself in the welfare system: “I’d say it is worth what­ever fight that you have to put up to finish school. And in what­ever degree [program] that you decide to be in. . . . ​However you have to work the system, d­ on’t lose yourself ­because of the welfare system, ­because it is easy to do. It’s easy to lose what you want and who you are in the welfare system.” Interactions with the welfare system and pressures to choose between welfare and their educational goals forced many of the ­mothers to make hard decisions, often at the expense of their self-­esteem, personal goals, or core beliefs. Throughout her experience with the welfare system, Sydney strug­g led to stay in school and major in accounting ­because caseworkers tried to force her to change majors or quit school. Her techniques for guarding against “losing yourself” was to remember her values and to remain determined to accomplish her educational goals, while resisting the welfare system’s ideas about what ­women on welfare should aspire to do. Betty and Sydney w ­ ere involved with LIFETIME, and some of their determination may have come from the organ­ization’s leadership trainings. In their narratives, the m ­ others’ determination and belief that failure was unacceptable was crucial to their accessing the resources they needed to survive. Angela’s survival narrative included giving advice to other students on welfare and illustrated her determination to find and use resources as key ele­ments to her survival. To other students on welfare she said: “Do not give up. Just, I mean—­look, ­people might push you away, say they ­can’t help you. ­There is [sic] some p­ eople who w ­ ill tell you that they ­can’t help you when they can help you. You just need to move [on] and ask the next person. Just d­ on’t give up with the [first] person. Check your resources, move on to the next person. If someone ­won’t help you, you are bound to click with somebody ­else. Somebody is bound to give you that helping hand. You c­ an’t give up. B ­ ecause if you give up, you give up on yourself.” Through Angela’s emphasis on finding available resources, she encouraged other m ­ others to persist. Angela’s comments combine three ele­ments of the survival narratives: she determined that failure was

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not an option, she persevered and discovered the necessary resources, and she guarded against losing herself to the welfare system. In her determination to finish school, Michelle highlighted an additional ele­ment of the survival narratives, outsmarting the system: g­ oing to school “has to do with your dedication and determination. If you think you can do it, you can do it. And ­there are resources out t­ here, but you have to know the ins and outs.” For m ­ others, outsmarting the welfare system included learning not only the rules and regulations, but also the loopholes—as Michelle put it, “the ins and outs” of the system. Sometimes the resources that m ­ others accessed ­were external to the welfare system, and sometimes they ­were internal to it. Therefore, the ­mothers’ narratives included ways to navigate the welfare bureaucracy to obtain needed resources. Dena, who was completing her last semester of her associate’s degree program, talked about how she had learned to outsmart the welfare system despite its labyrinth of ever-­changing rules that created new obstacles for her: I’ve gotten smarter, and I’ve seen how it works. I’m d­ oing what is necessary for me to get where I am, b­ ecause I ­don’t feel like I have them supporting me at all. I feel more like ­they’re g­ oing, okay, ­we’re ­going to take this and this, ­because I went through that with them a ­little bit, and I’ve seen how they are. And I’m like, okay, I have to be smarter, and I have to be smarter than the system. Right now, and the more that you try to get like this, they pull and they change the rules. You start to go in this direction, ­they’re g­ oing to try to pull back and change the rules again. . . . ​It’s ­really hard. I feel that they make it more difficult than it needs to be. . . . ​Some ­people just give up ­because school’s hard enough alone—­you ­don’t need extra stress from a ser­vice that’s supposed to be t­ here supporting you.

Although neither Michelle nor Dena was involved with LIFETIME, this strategy is also used by the organ­ization. Part of LIFETIME’s work was to educate and empower m ­ others to use the welfare system to gain access to all of the resources that w ­ ere available through it. The organ­ization often held workshops to help participants learn to navigate welfare rules and regulations, inform them about ser­vices that ­were available, and teach them how to fight for their rights on welfare. Frequently, LIFETIME heard from ­mothers that they had asked for ser­vices or knew about a regulation that their caseworker was not even aware of. With LIFETIME’s help, the m ­ others confidently asked for and received access to resources that ­were legally available but not generally offered. Sometimes survival was as straightforward as using available resources or learning to outsmart the system. In other cases, to survive m ­ others contemplated engaging in illicit activities, or even did engage in them, to make ends meet. Th ­ ese activities included taking a job in which they w ­ ere paid in cash,

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not reporting finances correctly to the welfare office, dealing drugs, stripping, prostituting themselves, and selling food stamps. However, most of the w ­ omen in this study who mentioned ­these activities ­were just contemplating them, while discussing their feelings of being trapped into making hard decisions to survive. Misha speculated on making ends meet in any way necessary: “But I have contemplated, can I be a stripper? I knew, I mean I contemplated, and then I think about—­I know that I c­ ouldn’t be a prostitute, I know that is wrong. But I do need this money, b­ ecause of my d­ aughter. . . . ​What am I gonna to do? What can I do? So all ­these degrading thoughts come through your head, what can I do?” Misha’s strug­gle to make ends meet led her to consider stripping for cash or even prostitution just to be able to provide for her ­daughter, pay her rent, and stay in school. Many m ­ others discussed feeling trapped trying to make ends meet in ways that ­were not approved by the welfare system, just to be able to survive and continue their education. Their narratives demonstrate their personal “hidden transcripts,” or “inside ideas,” portraying an intimate strug­gle with hard choices. ­These narratives also emphasized surviving one day at a time. The concept of long-­term survival often seemed ephemeral to the ­mothers. Rather, the idea of surviving for this time was woven throughout the survival narratives. The ­mothers discussed needing to survive the day, the semester, or just the period that they ­were on welfare. They held onto the belief that they would have a better life soon or a­ fter they graduated. Betty concentrated on h ­ andling one semester at a time: “I focus on getting through each semester by dealing with all my paperwork—­every­thing for welfare, all the financial aid paperwork— so that at least I know I can make it through this semester. And then I deal with next semester, next semester.” Her statements reflect her feeling overwhelmed when she considered all of the obstacles that she needed to overcome to finish her education. D gave this advice: “The biggest tip that I’d give you or anyone is that it’ll pass. Every­thing seems so real for the moment. . . . ​You hear all t­ hese ­things, it’ll pass. ­Don’t freak out. It’ll pass. ­You’re g­ oing to get what you need. Just d­ on’t let that control you, you control it.” This advice from D and Betty not only focused on how to survive one day or semester at a time but also repeated the theme of not losing oneself. ­These aspects of ­women’s survival narratives illustrated how the ­mothers strug­g led within a welfare system that was intentionally designed to discourage them from pursuing their educational goals. By constructing their narratives, w ­ omen ­were telling themselves and o­ thers like them how to survive to finish school. Furthermore, aspects of their narratives illustrate Luna’s concept of covert re­sis­tance, especially the cases of outsmarting the system.15 Usually this re­sis­tance “is intended as re­sis­tance by actors, is not recognized as re­sis­tance by targets, but is recognized as re­sis­tance by observers.”16 The

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­ omen’s survival strategies may occasionally be recognized by individual w caseworkers as fighting back against the system’s strict regulations, but seldom did the welfare system recognize ­these as re­sis­tance to its policies.

Implementing Survival Strategies The m ­ others constructed their individual survival narratives to give meaning to their experience, but they also had to materially survive day to day and provide for their families. Participating in the welfare system does not provide adequate resources for m ­ others who are pursuing higher education. Therefore, they also discussed the on-­the-­ground survival strategies that they used to meet the basic needs of their families, their own and their families’ emotional and physical health requirements, and their needs as students. The m ­ others’ needs fell into five basic categories. The first two categories ­were physical and material, and included housing, utilities, food, cash, clothing, and transportation. The third category was educational, which included books and supplies, tutoring, remedial assistance, study time or space, access to a computer and other technology, and accommodations for learning disabilities. The fourth category, physical and emotional health, included access to ongoing health care for themselves and their ­children, dental and vision care, accommodations for physical disabilities, therapy, support groups or networks that created a sense of belonging or contact with other student parents, and accommodations for ­mental health issues. The fifth category was ­family. The ­mothers needed ongoing child care, drop-in or sick child care, and family-­ friendly study options. Student needs ­were greatest at the beginning and end of each semester, ­because t­ hese ­were the times when students ­were dealing with a tremendous amount of paperwork and negotiations with caseworkers and counselors, adjusting to new schedules and classes, and aligning their child care with their new schedules, and when they had increased material needs such as new books and supplies for the semester. The August back-­to-­school period was particularly hard ­because m ­ others and their c­ hildren had all of ­these increased needs, with extremely l­ imited f­ amily resources. This time was also problematic for caseworkers, who w ­ ere not often equipped to ­handle the increased amounts of paperwork and pressing needs of student families. The m ­ others identified the multiple resources they used si­mul­ta­neously to meet ­these needs and continue to pursue higher education. Th ­ ese resources included public assistance from the county or state, including CalWORKs, food stamps, Section 8, Medi-Cal, Supplemental Security Income, child support enforcement, and sometimes help from supportive caseworkers or supervisors. ­Mothers used campus resources such as the student parent campus centers,

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campus counselors, tutoring centers, library resources, and supportive faculty members. Additionally, local community organ­izations such as churches, nonprofits, charities, and advocacy or grassroots groups provided a variety of resources. Furthermore, many w ­ omen relied on financial aid assistance, which could come from federal, state, campus, work-­study, and private scholarships. Fi­nally, members of the w ­ omen’s immediate and extended families or their ­children’s ­fathers helped fill in the remaining gaps by providing money and more intangible resources such as time and emotional support. Friends such as other w ­ omen on CalWORKs or fellow students who w ­ ere not parents also provided support and resources. The w ­ omen in this study also used individual coping strategies: time management, taking time for themselves, and knowing their own limits. When I asked the w ­ omen what practical strategies they used to attend school while on welfare, many of their first responses focused on individual coping strategies, specifically time management and scheduling. Faith, a thirty-­one-­ year-­old black m ­ other of three and university student, said: “I’m a time management freak. . . . ​I have two planners in my purse right now, so I pretty much stay or­ga­nized, and ­those are like my bibles. And that’s how I get ­things accomplished—­without that I c­ ouldn’t do anything.” D related how she also focused on time management: “I have a calendar, and I live by that calendar, I write every­thing down on that calendar: all my appointments, the kids’ appointments, my bill deadlines. I’ve got to do that. Other­wise I get discombobulated, and I’ll forget something. And sometimes I just say no to some ­things, and I have to say no. . . . ​So I pick out the most impor­tant and I do t­ hose ­things. And if by a miracle I have time left over, then I’ll go to the secondary ­things.” Many other ­mothers also viewed time management as one of the keys to surviving as a parent and student. Lele related that managing her time while she was g­ oing to school was dif­ fer­ent than when she was working. As a student, her survival was based on her individual coping strategies: When I first went into this, I thought school was ­going to be easy. I deceived myself b­ ecause I thought, “I am working fifty-­five hours a week at my job. I can go to school for four hours a day.” . . . ​It is more strenuous to go to school than it was for me to work. . . . ​A nyway, in the beginning . . . ​I d­ idn’t have a clue. Now, through experience, I know that I have to have my schedule, and I have to stick to it. Th ­ ere are a certain amount of hours that I have to allot to this, other­wise I am not ­going to get the grade. And then I used to just think in ­those terms, to [the point] where I would just put every­thing to my school work. But then my kids ­were—­before I looked at it, it’s like, gosh, they d­ on’t have clean clothes, they ­don’t have nothing to eat. So then I have to balance that too. And I have to take some me time, too. . . . ​So it is just about prioritiz-

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ing and organ­izing the time. Th ­ ere are twenty-­four hours in a day, and each minute has to be allotted for something.

Another personal coping strategy that many w ­ omen mentioned dealt with the prob­lem of how to fit in study time when their ­children ­were asleep, but the adults w ­ ere still fresh enough to learn. As Nicole C. explained, “by the time night time comes and I’ve got them fed and in bed and every­thing, I’m so tired. I’ve tried to stay up and do homework, but my eyes are burning and I’m falling asleep, and it’s just not happening for me. So I started ­going to sleep with them early and getting up at two and four o­ ’clock in the morning to try to do my homework.” This strategy, of ­doing homework and studying in the ­middle of the night, was often not sustainable. Nicole C. l­ ater said that the advantage was “I have the time all to myself, it’s quiet, I’d have rested, but then I get burned. I can only do it for so long at a time. So I get burned out, and then I just crash.” ­Because of the strain placed on the ­mothers, many of the individual coping strategies have the same result: they ­were only a temporary fix, to be used for a short period of time before the ­women burned out. Individual coping strategies ­were combined with other practical survival strategies. D and Nancy used their ability to say no. Nancy related her individual coping strategies, like time management, knowing her limits, saying no, and networking with ­people who could help her meet her needs: Get a schedule out for yourself. Second of all, prioritize. ­Going to school has taught me to say no. As a w ­ oman, especially as a Latina w ­ oman, ­you’re supposed to say yes to every­thing. ­You’re supposed to take care of the ­children, ­you’re supposed to take care of the man and your grand­mother and every­body—­take care of every­body. But you know what? Sometimes it’s okay to say no. It’s okay to say no, I ­don’t have time for this . . . ​and get support. Get your friends and build a network of friends and f­ amily. . . . ​Just network—­t hat’s r­ eally the impor­tant ­thing. And keep in mind that this is your goal. . . . ​­Don’t try to do every­thing at once, or you’ll go crazy.

For the m ­ others, networking provided emotional and material support. The members of t­ hese networks ­were sometimes personal friends and f­ amily members, or ­people met through organ­izations. As D explained, her tenure in the area and her LIFETIME involvement provided her with an extensive network of contacts: “Well, I go through my phone book b­ ecause I have a list. . . . ​I get on the phone in a minute, and say, ‘can you guys do this for me?’ and they are mostly rides [laughs]. I still d­ on’t have a car.” D’s lack of a car had her reaching out to find resources to literally get her where she needed to go. Campus resources ­were often mentioned as si­mul­ta­neously very helpful and insufficient. ­There are many campus resources, especially at the community

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colleges, designed to help low-­income, first-­generation, or returning students, and the m ­ others stressed the importance of t­ hose resources. For example, Monique said that “CalWORKs students should use all the programs in school, all the ones that you qualify for. Apply, use them—’cause they can be helpful. You can get extra money for books, they w ­ ill help you with tutoring. . . . ​ All the programs that you qualify for, apply and use them, put them to use. That’s what they are t­ here for.” Keisha echoed Monique’s sentiment and also relied on her faculty members and their office hours as an additional campus resource. She added, “the teachers I have—­they are nice, they have a l­ ittle time. You can come to their office, and they help you do every­thing.” Unfortunately, not all campuses have equal resources. Specifically, the University of California and California State University institutions do not have system-­wide supportive programs for low-­income single parents as the community colleges do. This is very unfortunate b­ ecause the CalWORKs students’ needs are greater as they pro­gress through higher degree programs. Tony, who had just finished her bachelor’s degree at the University of California (UC), Berkeley, pointed out: My experience at Cal [UC Berkeley] could have been a lot better if—if the mechanisms to support students like me, that are single parents or reentry students, w ­ ere enclaves. They have a center for reentry, and student parents, ­etc., older transfer students, but it is not at the level that I think you would need for it to be effective. So it is almost like ­every agency that provides some sort of ser­vice, some sort of direct ser­vice agency, even on campus, wants you to jump through eigh­teen hoops just to qualify or be able to receive their ser­vice, so ­a fter a while you get tired of it. ­Because you have school, and you have got all this other stuff to kinda deal with, and you c­ an’t be involved in ­every organ­ ization. . . . ​I find that not enough [student parents] get extra support . . . ​lots of other programs that you might be qualified for. But for some reason, I d­ on’t ever see it hitting ­those parents, I see it hitting traditional age students.

The students who transferred from community colleges to state universities ­were often surprised by how scarce resources ­were at the universities. They did not feel that they had any of the support they had had in the community college, even when ­there ­were campus organ­izations dedicated to student parents. ­Mothers also used community resources to fill their needs. Many ­women used local food banks, clothing closets, advocacy and ­legal aid organ­izations, and ­free medical clinics, and most participated in at least one program during the winter holidays for food and gifts. One of the most common needs was fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, and dairy products, which are expensive on food stamps, and only a few of the local food banks stocked fresh items. Michelle, a ­mother of one who was pregnant at the time, explained: “We go over to the

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church on Fruitvale. . . . ​It just depends on what they have—­sometimes it’s fruits and vegetables, sometimes it’s canned goods. . . . ​It’s not necessarily enough to make a meal out of, but it definitely adds to your meals . . . ​it adds to what ­you’ve got, and it helps. Helps spread it out a ­little bit . . . ​especially the fruits and vegetables.” Some community organ­izations required parents to participate in the organ­ization to use its resources. ­These resources ­were still impor­tant to the ­mothers, but as Angela put it, “­there was so much that I was trying to put on my plate, I got involved in so much, and I had just finished having a baby. So I just dropped some of the programs regardless [of the need for the resource].” Besides participation requirements, another obstacle to accessing resources was the ­women’s knowledge of resources. If a m ­ other did not know about a resource, it did not exist for her. Phoebe said, “I tap into ­things, ­whether it’s online or ­whether it’s face to face or just through reading some lit­er­a­ture that I pick up. . . . ​I am using a lot of resources.” The access points for resources w ­ ere impor­tant for ­mothers who ­were busy and often did not have time to make additional appointments in their schedules. ­Mothers needed resources that ­were easy to access when they had time to search for them, which was usually outside regular business hours. Therefore, parents connected to resources that they needed to survive through resource centers, online access, and distribution through existing networks. ­Family members and friends, and less often their ­children’s f­ athers, provided additional resources for w ­ omen—­either as their first call or as a last resort. Daria explained that she felt very lucky to have a supportive ­family and friends: “­Family is prob­ably the biggest. The ­thing that comes to my mind first is financial resources, ’cause CalWORKs is obviously not enough to pay rent. So, thankfully, I have a lot of friends and ­family that I can rely on, who call and ask, ‘are you d­ oing okay? Do you need any extra money?’ Which is usually yes. And ­those friends who say, ‘you ­haven’t had a night off, why ­don’t you bring [her ­daughter] over and ­we’ll have a slumber night, and you can go out, have a night off and get to have some adult time?’ Which is r­ eally impor­tant just for emotional respite, so that I am not [her ­daughter]’s mom, I get to be me.” Daria’s situation can be juxtaposed with Jasmine’s: Basically my advice to anybody who’s g­ oing through what I’m g­ oing through is to try to get as many friends and ­family [as you can] to help support you through this time in your life. B ­ ecause I d­ on’t have that, and it makes it very difficult to be isolated and not have ­those ­things. My parents are extremely unsupportive, my b­ rothers are unsupportive, my friends—­they like me for entertainment, they help me h ­ ere and ­there, but they have their own lives to live, and they c­ an’t be as supportive as they would like to be. So it’s good if you have a real good solid base of p­ eople to help you. I ­don’t have that, and that’s been one of the biggest prob­lems for me, is not having that. A lot of times

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I ­don’t like to burden ­people with my prob­lems, b­ ecause I know a lot of ­people that I know d­ on’t have the time to be burdened, so that isolates me ever the more sometimes. So for ­people who are ­going through what I’m g­ oing through, get a good support system ­behind you.

Although both ­women recognized the utmost importance of supportive friends and ­family members, especially t­ hose with resources, only one w ­ oman had them. The difference was access to familial resources and was notable in three regards as it related to Daria’s and Jasmine’s lives: housing, child care, and transportation. For Daria, her housing issues w ­ ere easily resolved by her grand­ father, who frequently paid her rent; her child care issues ­were resolved by friends who w ­ ere willing to take care of her ­daughter; and her transportation issues w ­ ere remedied by her m ­ other, who bought Daria a brand-­new car ­because she was sick of her car breaking down. Jasmine, who called her f­ amily ­middle class, related that they did not have the financial resources of Daria’s ­family. She experienced long bouts of homelessness, continued domestic vio­lence, and ongoing transportation issues with an old car. Sandra Barnes also recognized the importance of ­these familial resources in her study of working poor single ­mothers.17 Constructing survival narratives was impor­tant to the ­mothers, but so was sharing their narratives and survival strategies with other m ­ others. One of the most common statements in the interviews was the ­mothers’ desire that other ­women know that they, too, can pursue higher education while on welfare. They shared their stories with me in the hope that other m ­ others could use some of the information contained in their narratives to help them survive higher education as well. Therefore, their narratives ­were also constructed to share survival strategies. A primary difference was apparent between the narratives of LIFETIME participants and ­those of nonparticipants: their sense of support from other ­mothers pursuing higher education while on welfare. When ­mothers not involved with LIFETIME w ­ ere asked to identify whom they turned to for support, they ­were less likely to cite other ­mothers on welfare. Instead, they named their f­ amily members or sometimes caseworkers or campus advocates, or they said that they had no one to help them. When I asked Vanessa whom she turned to for support, she replied: “Inward. I think that’s where the overwhelmingness comes in. I basically rely solely on myself, which ­isn’t r­eally a good ­thing ­because sometimes you do need outside support. Especially we do need it—­not sometimes, but we do need it. And I ­don’t ­really search for that from anyone, and I guess that’s kind of hard b­ ecause when I’m in a situation, I look at what’s ­going on, what’s right ­here in front of me. I d­ on’t look outside of the box and think, ‘how can I look at this differently or how can I deal with that differently?’ And if I ­were to ask somebody ­else on the outside, they might

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see more clearly if ­they’re not in that situation.” Misha echoed Vanessa’s point: “­Really, um, I d­ on’t have anybody to turn to. I pretty much—­I think that I have kinda adapted into being my own rock and being able to stand tall.” While she tried to show how strong she was by being her own rock, ­later in the interview she acknowledged that it was tough not having support from friends or other students. Some ­mothers ­were aware of LIFETIME but did not believe they needed it and thus did not get involved. They may have wanted more support, but they did not feel that LIFETIME offered what they needed. LIFETIME participants, in contrast, often discussed how the organ­ization provided them with peer support, understanding, and networking. As Jasmine, Twitch, and other m ­ others described in chapter 3, that was key to why and how ­mothers became involved with the organ­ization and was one of the main advantages that they saw in staying involved. Through participating in LIFETIME activities and interacting with peers, ­mothers had a sense of belonging nurtured by social support.

Critiquing a Welfare System That Necessitates Educational Survival Narratives Another central component of the narratives I collected in 2006 was the ­mothers’ assessment of welfare reform, especially ­those who ­were involved in LIFETIME. In an effort to understand and overcome the barriers to pursuing higher education while on welfare, the ­mothers speculated about the objectives of the welfare reform laws that had created a system in which parents must participate to receive benefits. They expressed their extreme frustration with policy makers who had constructed a system that was filled with structural barriers to their success and that contributed to a culture of shame and failure for its participants. Furthermore, especially in the case of the m ­ others who ­were involved with LIFETIME, they created a “shared critique of power,” as Scott calls it. Their participation in the welfare system forced them to construct survival strategies and the narratives that resulted, so that they could make full use of the benefits that welfare offered them. The m ­ others saw the intentionality of the policy makers in constructing a system that the ­women had to survive. As Misha explained, “I think they think that you are gonna fail. I r­ eally do, I ­really do. . . . ​I ­don’t think they care. I d­ on’t think they see the importance [of ­going to school]. . . . ​It’s like life and death. This is the only way that I can live. I have to get this. And they d­ on’t care. I r­ eally d­ on’t think they care.” Misha deconstructed the irony of welfare reform for parents in school: the system wanted them to fail. Although Misha was not involved with LIFETIME the first time I interviewed her, she ­later became involved, and her critiques of the system became even sharper.

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To ­these ­mothers it appeared that the system was designed by policy makers to encourage their failure, so they would be forced to drop out of higher education and engage instead in work first activities. By creating structural barriers for ­mothers who ­were pursuing higher education—­such as sanctioning them for not quitting school, dictating what majors they could pursue, and withholding support ser­vices while they w ­ ere in school—­the welfare system created a self-­fulfilling prophecy. Previous research shows that only a fraction of w ­ omen who enrolled in school w ­ ere able to survive and complete their higher education while on welfare.18 ­These structural barriers are especially in­ter­est­ ing given that policy makers refer to this group of welfare participants as the most motivated. This paradox did not go unnoticed by participants. Dena said: The one ­thing that I wish that they would do is target the p­ eople that d­ on’t do shit [emphasizing the last three words by jabbing the tabletop]. Excuse my language, but . . . ​target p­ eople that start school and drop out, target the ­people that d­ on’t ­really do crap. Target the ones who are getting sanctioned. Target them first! The ones that are ­doing well, they could look and see ­every month and say, look at that, she’s got a 3.8 average GPA [grade-­point average], leave this girl alone, let her do her ­thing. Why mess with me? They mess with me, they mess with me, and it makes me so angry. Target the p­ eople that just ­aren’t ­doing it, that go work for a week and then quit. That’s where I think it’s appropriate—­reform that bad apple first!

Although Dena was not involved with LIFETIME, we can see through her comments that she sees that the TANF program targets student parents for not complying with the work first regulations, even though they are working hard in school. Marie added: “When recipients are trying to better their life by ­going to college, putting strict timelines on them when they are making pro­gress, or limiting what areas they can go into, I just think that stinks! If t­ hey’re ­going to go and get a bachelor’s degree, regardless of what it’s in, that’s ­going to help them be more employable, . . . ​So it seems a bummer that recipients tend to get the short end of the stick, or they want to make all ­these restrictions on them to make it harder.” Dena and Marie furthered emphasized that policy makers discouraged school for m ­ others on welfare and targeted w ­ omen who w ­ ere in school and ­doing well for punitive action. Instead of creating a system that helps ­people get out of poverty, welfare reform created a punitive system based on mythical ste­reo­t ypes of the welfare ­mother and a culture of shame. This system now regards any activity other than work first as punishable and at odds with the goal of the reform. The 2006 reauthorization of TANF, which occurred during the 2006 phase of interviews for this proj­ect, further tightened the rules about pursuing higher

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education while on welfare, and the Department of Health and H ­ uman Ser­vices explic­itly stated that the “TANF program was not intended to be a college scholarship program.”19 Betty, a parent leader with LIFETIME, targeted ­these policy changes, especially the time limits on welfare, in her survival narrative: “They keep talking about how welfare’s not a scholarship program, and it’s like, well, what would you rather do, let us be on welfare for five years and not do a fucking ­thing? Yes, sometimes I think that’s what they want—­you know, give us drugs b­ ecause of our m ­ ental health prob­lems and put us in a comatose state, so that once we get kicked out of welfare we can go to the loony bin. I d­ on’t know. Just give us a chance to get an education.” Betty’s work with LIFETIME and advocating with other parents for access to higher education for welfare families shows in her knowledge of the policies and her critique of the language and purpose of the policy. Her saying “just give us a chance to get an education” illustrates the shared critique of power that LIFETIME works to develop in parents. Betty wants her own education, but she wants just as much for m ­ others like her to also have that opportunity ­under welfare policy.

Why It ­Matters: Survival Narratives Illustrate the Failure of Welfare Reform The m ­ others in this study, and o­ thers who like them are pursuing higher education while on welfare, are held up as model welfare participants by policy makers. They are the success stories of welfare reform. Policy makers and their staff members individually praise the ­mothers’ hard work to change their economic position and point to them as embodiments of the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” rhe­toric of welfare reform. At the same time, they tell the ­mothers to avoid emphasizing their roles as students when testifying in bud­get hearings on welfare issues or talking with the more conservative policy makers.20 However, m ­ others—­especially the ones who are involved with LIFETIME—­are critical of that rhe­toric. They want their “inside ideas” and “hidden transcripts” known by the policy makers who craft and implement the TANF policies. Many studies have shown that ­women’s desire to enroll in and complete higher education helps them earn their way off welfare in jobs with wages that support their families and make them eco­nom­ically stable. Most never need welfare again.21 Si­mul­ta­neously with being called model welfare participants, however, they are severely penalized for being so motivated by a welfare system that explic­itly devalues higher education. Therefore, ­these ­mothers have to fight ­every step of the way to finish their education while on welfare: they must learn how to survive the system to finish school. Instead of supporting the rhe­toric of welfare reform as a success, the m ­ others in this study constructed survival narratives to expose their “hidden transcripts”

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and “inside ideas” and their forms of re­sis­tance to the welfare system and its policies. The m ­ others used their narratives to motivate and energize themselves and ­others like them, despite the structural obstacles to their pursuit of higher education while in the welfare system. ­These narratives ­were also directed at policy makers. Scott emphasizes the need for uncovering ­these “hidden transcripts,” ­because “any analy­sis based exclusively on the public transcript is likely to conclude that subordinate groups endorse the terms of their subordination and are willing, even enthusiastic, partners in that subordination.”22 A central unique contribution of this research is showing that instead of enthusiastically proclaiming that welfare reform has been a success, the student welfare m ­ others critiqued and resisted the reform that created a system that requires the most motivated of its participants to create survival narratives. Their critique illustrates the central failure of welfare reform: if the most motivated must create survival narratives to use public assistance, how can welfare reform be deemed a success? Fi­nally, we need to pay attention to welfare policies and higher educational practices that affect low-­income student parents. The m ­ others’ policy suggestions in their survival narratives focus on increasing access to higher education for all low-­income students, but especially student parents on welfare. First, colleges and universities can create programs and supportive ser­vices for low-­ income students and student parents on campus, in much the same way as the California Community Colleges System has. The programs and supports need to increase as students move from community colleges to universities, not decrease—as they do in California’s universities. As the level of education gets higher, supportive ser­vices are more urgently needed by student parents. Second, according to the ­mothers, welfare policy needs to be reformed again. The work first approach of welfare policy has not created upward mobility for low-­income parents and should be expanded to allow ­mothers who participate in the welfare system to pursue associate’s and bachelor’s degrees while on welfare.23 ­Mothers on welfare who are pursuing higher education and abiding by the other TANF policies should have their TANF time clocks ­stopped for the time that they are in school. TANF should provide assistance to parents in school for textbooks, educational materials, transportation, and child care for study time. Furthermore, the systems of welfare and financial aid should be changed so that they are more integrated and efficient, take into consideration the additional costs of raising c­ hildren while in college, and work to help a low-­ income parent get a higher education instead of hindering her or saddling her with insurmountable debt. As the next chapter illustrates, their educations mean every­thing to t­ hese ­women—­all they want is the opportunity. As Betty said, “just give us a chance to get an education.”

5

My Education Means Every­thing to Me

Rebecca graduated from high school in 1990 and got married the next year, when she was just nineteen. She attended a local private job training institute, called a c­ areer college, and earned a certificate in medical assisting. She worked at entry level in her field for a few years but did not feel she had acquired the experience needed to move ahead. She had her first child at twenty-­two and her second at twenty-­four, and she was a “stay-­at-­home mom by choice,” as she puts it. A ­ fter their second child was born, her husband’s recreational drug use escalated into major addiction. Concerned about his addiction, the ­people he brought into their lives, and the situations he put their c­ hildren in, she encouraged him to seek help. When her husband, with whom she had been with since she was fourteen, repeatedly refused treatment for his drug addiction, she said she had no choice but to file for divorce. At twenty-­six, Rebecca was divorced with two young ­children, no income, and ­limited education. She moved back in with her parents, went down to the county welfare office, and applied for welfare. During her welfare intake and orientation, Rebecca—­like all applicants in that office at that time—­attended a pre­sen­ta­tion about a special program called the ­Family Ser­vice Team. Even though the opportunity to participate in the ­Family Ser­vice Team was offered to every­one attending orientation that day, Rebecca said that she was the only one out of thirty ­people who volunteered. She believed that this choice made all the difference in her opportunity to go to college. Through this program, she found out that she could pursue higher 103

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education while on welfare and that educational support was available to her. Rebecca enrolled in a community college and earned an associate’s degree in two years. In 2011, she was off welfare, working three-­quarters time at a living-­ wage job she loved and was pursuing her bachelor’s degree part time. When I asked her in 2006 what her education meant to her, she answered: “It means every­thing to me . . . ​it’s about the experience. And it means that I can have freedom. And so for me it means every­thing—­without that I feel like I’m kind of stagnant. I feel like continuing to learn and grow and change is kind of dependent upon educating yourself . . . ​so education’s just very impor­tant to me.” The ­mothers I interviewed who ­were pursuing higher education while on welfare persevered through many obstacles, and they did not overlook the value of this opportunity. The m ­ others applied for welfare as a last resort, when they had hit rock bottom and had no other options. However, pursuing higher education once on welfare felt like a positive choice that made up for their need for public assistance, both to themselves and to society. In enrolling in higher education, they w ­ ere deliberately changing their pathway through life and trying to change their structural position in the economy. As some of the most disadvantaged students in higher education, the w ­ omen I interviewed in 2006 provided a unique perspective on educational choices and motivations. In our conversations, welfare ­mothers explored their expectations of higher education, their aspirations, and why they pursued their dream of higher education while participating in the reformed welfare system. Although circumstances, many of them beyond the w ­ omen’s control, brought t­ hese ­mothers to welfare and public assistance, they intentionally chose to pursue higher education. They believed that ­a fter graduation they would be able to achieve enough upward economic mobility to provide for their c­ hildren, get off welfare, and climb out of poverty. By exploring the significance that welfare ­mothers attributed to their education, I found that their narratives challenged the prevailing discourse that welfare m ­ others have deviant views of work, education, parenting, and personal responsibility. Instead, the w ­ omen’s motivations and expectations for pursuing higher education w ­ ere the same as t­ hose held by other Americans. In interview ­after interview, they described how their education meant every­thing to them. They pursued higher education to realize the normative ideals of the American Dream. Therefore, the findings of this chapter challenge the prevailing view of welfare m ­ others as morally deficient. The ­mothers cited their education as the most effective use of their sixty months of time-­limited welfare aid and believed that it would enable them to escape poverty. The w ­ omen in this study provide a unique perspective on educational choices, motivations, and expectations about the power of a college degree, as well as the social narratives that describe and ascribe value to the role of higher education. Furthermore, the high value they placed on their education demonstrates that m ­ others

My Education Means Every­thing to Me  •  105

on welfare pursuing higher education are ideal students and investments. My study shows that the m ­ others’ awareness and rejection of the conservative belief in their moral deviance motivated them to succeed and helped them persevere through school and out of poverty.

The Significance of Their Education Americans generally accept the importance of higher education for upward economic mobility. Many Americans believe that through higher education they can better provide for their families, get ahead in the l­abor market, be role models for their ­children, and expand their knowledge and experiences. The ­mothers on welfare in this study had similar expectations, and therefore, the significance that they attributed to pursuing higher education resembled that of other Americans. Most of the ­women in this study had worked before ­going on welfare and had seen that low-­wage work was not helping them achieve their dreams, nor was it even providing enough for them to get out of poverty. They asserted that b­ ecause they w ­ ere in poverty, their educations w ­ ere even more critical to their ability to provide for their families a­ fter their time-­limited welfare assistance ended. What did the m ­ others mean when they said that their education meant every­thing to them? In some ways the meaning they gave to their education was literal and immediate—as in the case of the m ­ others escaping domestic vio­lence, hunger, or homelessness. Without enrolling in school while on welfare, some of the ­mothers said that they would not have had housing or food and so would have felt forced to go back to abusive partners. For example, Alexis said her education “means a lot” ­because “without it, I would prob­ably be homeless. And I ­wouldn’t have enough resources for my ­daughter . . . ​so, it means a lot to me.” Before g­ oing on welfare and reenrolling in school, Alexis was homeless, a domestic vio­lence survivor with an infant, and working in dead-­end minimum-­wage jobs. She might still have been homeless if she had not reenrolled in school, which allowed her to live in student ­family housing. Her education meant access to resources to provide for her child. Other ­mothers also reported that their education helped provide concrete resources for their f­ amily. Yet in other ways, the significance and meaning of their education was described in more abstract terms. ­Mothers spoke about opportunities to expand their minds, experiences, or expectations about the ­future. For example, Kelly, a forty-­two-­year-­old Russian-­Israeli community college student with one young child, said, “what does education mean to me? [pause] It’s like being rich. The more I know, the more I have.” Kelly’s meta­phor about being rich emphasized the power the ­mothers believed that their education held, and this power gave them hope for their f­ uture.

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The m ­ others in my study focused on several key themes when describing the meaning and importance of their education. In addition to sharing their expectations about how they would be able to earn more in the ­labor market to support their families, they reflected on how their education would improve their ­children’s lives and education; expand their own knowledge, opportunities, and experiences; increase their self-­esteem and connection to the world around them; and enable them to help ­people more effectively. Thus, the significance of their education encompassed both what it had done for them so far and what they expected it would do for them in the ­future. No m ­ atter how far along the educational pathway each ­mother was, pursuing higher education had already made a difference in her life. The ­mothers did not focus on just one of ­these themes; instead, many appeared si­mul­ta­neously in their narratives.

My Education Is a ­Labor Market Necessity The most common theme in the ­mothers’ narratives about educational significance was advancement in the ­labor market, particularly how education would allow them to provide for their families. Most participants believed that they would get better jobs a­ fter they graduated than they could have had without additional education. However, their views ranged from “my education is a leg up to getting a better job” to “my education is my passport to financial freedom.” In other words, the m ­ others’ narratives ranged from focusing on education as a step up to a slightly better job or slightly higher wage all the way to viewing education as the opportunity for financial freedom and financial security. Jane explained: If I d­ idn’t have [a community college], I’d be working at McDonald’s or Wal-­Mart or what­ever kind of sales shop that t­ here is. And that’s not okay. Even if I ­stopped ­going to school ­a fter I get my AA [associate’s degree] from [the community college], I’m still a step above that. I’m above that, I can do something better than that. . . . ​W ho can support a ­family on McDonald’s wages, or Wal-­Mart wages, or working at the mall, or any other just sales job? . . . ​At least if you just complete your AA you can get pushed up to that second level. And it might not seem like a lot to some p­ eople, but for a lot of us that’s a lot—­because that’s g­ oing from minimum wage to maybe $12 to $15 an hour, and that’s enough to provide for your f­ amily. That’s enough. Yes, you might be living paycheck to paycheck, but you are providing for your f­ amily. . . . ​ But I definitely think that education is that leg up to getting you a better job.

Jane’s reasoning, like that of many other m ­ others, especially at the community college level, focused on getting a slightly better job than she had had before, and she expected education to give her a “leg up” to such jobs.

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D explored the idea of education being the “key” to better jobs and a brighter economic f­ uture in her narrative. She emphasized the power of education for African Americans and ­others who are in “disadvantageous situations,” as she put it—­such as being on welfare. She said that “education—my parents drummed it into me, being of African American descent during the civil rights movement, it has been shown over and over again, even if y­ ou’re in a disadvantageous situation, if you have the skills to think it through, you slowly attack it and overcome it. Education is the only tool within our system that ­will give you that long-­term edge and w ­ ill keep you at that long-­term edge.” Although the power of education to “give you that long-­term edge” is not l­ imited to African Americans, D’s awareness of racial history played an impor­tant role in her narrative. Her rationale for pursuing higher education was that it would give her the tools she needed to overcome disadvantageous situations such as being on welfare or challenging racial ­labor market dynamics, such as discrimination. In her narrative, Jasmine continued the discussion about education as the key to getting out of poverty. However, Jasmine focused not just on education, broadly conceived, but on the specific type of education necessary to get ahead: “Education is the primary key to getting out of poverty and having the ability to not only have access to the education but to continue with it and get the qualifications that the job market are looking for. . . . ​To have that education ­behind me ­really does make the world of difference [rather] than just ­going out ­there and looking for work. It is the key to finding work, absolutely. . . . ​You need ‘the’ education that the jobs are seeking . . . ​they want bachelor’s degrees. So this is why I’m continuing my education plan, not so much by choice. It’s ­because [if] that’s what they want, then that’s what I need. Absolutely, it’s a l­ abor market necessity in e­ very way.” Like Jasmine, the other ­mothers recognized that education is a ­labor market necessity. However, they recognized that some degrees have more power than ­others. Better outcomes in the ­labor market are linked to a bachelor’s degree, as participants who are pursuing or had recently completed that degree often noted. The bachelor’s degree students expected their education to lead to ­careers paying above living-­wage levels. Faith said that her education means “every­ thing, ­because my education is basically my passport to financial freedom and knowledge, so the learning d­ oesn’t stop. You have to keep learning. Even with my degree and licenses I have to continue with education, so it’s never ­going to be done.” Other ­mothers echoed Faith’s idea of a “financial passport,” and they focused on providing for their families without any public assistance. They recognized that without education, their opportunities in the l­ abor market w ­ ere restricted to low-­wage jobs. However, Faith and the other ­mothers pursuing bachelor’s degrees expected, more so than the community college students did, that their education would lead to financial security and in­de­pen­dence.

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The participants focused on education being “a l­ abor market necessity,” “the key,” “a backup,” “a leg up,” and a “passport to financial freedom.” Through t­ hese themes, they showed how the l­ abor market factored into their rationales about why they pursued higher education and their expectations of it. The ­mothers wanted to be qualified for better jobs, and many believed that having the “piece of paper” to prove that they ­were qualified would increase their chances of leaving poverty. ­These themes are similar to h ­ uman capital theory, which is the primary theory used in research on welfare ­mothers pursuing higher education.1 Although the ­mothers did not specifically say that they w ­ ere “building their ­human capital to get ahead in the l­ abor market,” as a sociologist might put it, that is also exactly what they meant.

My Education Makes Me a Role Model for My ­Children ­Mothers also focused on improving their c­ hildren’s lives and educations in their narratives about why they pursued higher education. They believed that pursuing higher education affected their ­children’s lives in many ways, beyond simply providing more income to spend on their ­children. Participants often focused on how their higher education benefited their ­children’s education. This was discussed in two ways. First, the w ­ omen reported that they had become role models for their ­children and that their ­children did better in school immediately ­after the ­mother became a student, too. Second, ­mothers hoped that their college attendance would pique their ­children’s interest in ­going to ­college. Research firmly supports the m ­ others’ beliefs: c­ hildren do better academically when m ­ others on welfare increase their educational level.2 A considerable lit­er­a­ture shows that parental educational achievement is an impor­tant predictor of c­ hildren’s f­ uture educational achievement,3 and for families on welfare the best determinant of a child’s educational level is the ­mother’s educational level.4 Research also supports the m ­ others’ belief that they w ­ ere good role models for their ­children in terms of educational aspirations.5 One contribution of my study is the finding that the ­mothers’ educational pursuits had an immediate positive impact on their ­children’s education. The existing research shows that am ­ other’s higher education improves the likelihood that her ­children ­will go to college or eventually perform better academically. However, my research finds that ­children’s education improved as soon as their m ­ other started college. Although it is unlikely that the m ­ others w ­ ere familiar with the relevant research, their on-­the-­ground experience showed this to be true. Nicole said, “I have a ­daughter, so I want to be my ­daughter’s role model, [have her] see what I am d­ oing. So that she gets to see, not strug­gle, like what I have to go through, as far as being on assistance. I r­ eally ­don’t want her to depend on assistance. . . . ​

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Education to me is impor­tant ­because I feel like my parents d­ idn’t get the education that they wanted while they ­were growing up, so they urged me to go ahead, go to college. So, then, that’s why it is ­really impor­tant to me and for my d­ aughter.” Nicole’s education was impor­tant to her, and like many other ­mothers in this study, she wanted her child to achieve more than she was able to and with fewer strug­gles. This sentiment is part of American society: parents want a better life for their c­ hildren than they had, and education plays a key role in reaching that goal. Taz echoed Nicole’s view: “Being a role model for my kids—­they ­will see that school and education is impor­tant. It’s a big part of their lives, it’s part of my life . . . ​—my son—he can see mommy’s ­going to school. I guess that is impor­tant, college is impor­tant. So it d­ oesn’t have to be, you know, twelve grades. You d­ on’t have to be fifteen to go to school. You can be thirty years old and still go to school. So being a role model for them, showing that education is a big part of life and school is very impor­tant. I’d say [the meaning of my education] is being a role model.” Many participants focused on the importance of being a good role model for their ­children, and through pursuing higher education, they felt that they ­were being better role models than they had been when working in low-­wage jobs. Although they acknowledged that being on welfare might not be what they would want their child to aspire to, they ­were using welfare to make sure that when they got off it they would never need it again. Also, ­women often said that their priorities had changed a­ fter their first child was born. For the ­mothers who ­were in school before having their ­children, school remained a priority for them, but their rationales for pursuing their education shifted slightly. For example, Jane noted that education was impor­tant, but when she became a m ­ other, her education took on additional meaning. Education remained impor­tant to her new goals: “school has always been a number one priority for me, but then I had a d­ aughter, and then she became number one. And I know that money is not happiness or anything like that, but love is not ­going to feed her e­ very day. So money is ­going to get her the ­things that she needs to keep her happy and well. . . . ​It [education] does mean a lot to me, ­because I do want my d­ aughter to have something to look up to and I want her to go to college.” Providing for and loving her child was now Jane’s top priority, and she saw her education as a way to fulfill her responsibility. The m ­ others’ narratives about pursuing higher education while on welfare included how their love for their ­children and their responsibility for their well-­being motivated them to provide a good life for their ­family. This is in line with the normative ideals of American society, often referred to as the American Dream, and in direct contradiction to the prevailing ste­reo­types of welfare ­mothers as deviant in their views of responsibility ­toward their families.

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My Education Gives Me Knowledge That No One Can Take Away from Me The w ­ omen also often saw their education as an opportunity to expand their knowledge and have new experiences. This sentiment was frequently expressed together with discussions of financial security and better job opportunities. Some m ­ others felt that much had been taken from them in their lives. Most of the ­women in this study had experienced significant trauma and losses in their lives. Throughout their interviews, they mentioned experiences with childhood sexual abuse, domestic vio­lence, losing ­family members to pre­ mature death, loss from crime or fire, loss from illness, and so on. Yet the knowledge, opportunities, and experiences higher education brought became theirs, and no one would be able to take that knowledge or ­those experiences away. Chantel explained: It [education] means knowledge that can never be taken away from me. R ­ eally, it just means professionalism to me, it means commitment. I feel that when you graduated college that that is r­ eally a milestone, ­because you [­were] ­really committed to yourself—­like, I want to do this. I think that sometimes it’s hard for ­people. They ­don’t know how to follow through with t­ hings, they know how to start it, they have all this drive, but then like something happens where they just start dumping on themsel[ves] or what­ever, and then they just stop. So I think it is a challenge within yourself to say, “hey, this is what I gotta do and I gonna do it.” . . . ​The education that you acquire, the knowledge that you acquire is something that can never be taken away. It is always yours. It is always something that can be used.

Vanessa focused on how her work translated into being a role model for her ­children and as something that is hers that she ­doesn’t fear losing: I believe it [education] ­really means a lot to me b­ ecause it’s something that—­I feel like it opened the door for opportunities to get a job that somebody ­else might want as well, but if they d­ idn’t have that higher level of education, they might not be given the position. And I think more importantly I want to be a good role model for my d­ aughter, and the same time that she started g­ oing to kindergarten, that’s when I started g­ oing to school also, and I think that that’s helped her also. . . . ​A lso I feel like that once I finish, t­ here’s ­really no one who can take it away from me. This is something that I genuinely worked hard for, and ­really no one can take it away from me.

­ others focused on building knowledge that no one can take away from them, M and they acknowledged losses or trauma experienced in the past and their desire to create a ­future for themselves and their c­ hildren. M ­ others believed that

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education, unlike welfare, would benefit them in the long term. Their education was a foundation that they could rebuild their lives on.

My Education Has Given Me More Self-­Esteem and Taught Me That I Am Not Alone, I Am Connected to the Universe Due to their experiences with domestic vio­lence, drug and alcohol abuse, unemployment, divorce, and other personal trauma or crises, the participants’ self-­ esteem and belief in their abilities was often very low. Through education, they ­were able to increase their self-­esteem. Higher self-­esteem may not initially have been a primary goal of pursuing higher education. However, when they examined their narratives about what their education meant to them, it was often cited as impor­tant. When asked what her education meant to her, Phoebe said: “Every­thing. . . . ​I think my education for me has been an eye-­opener, my education has given me more self-­esteem. It’s added to my self-­esteem, so it’s allowed me to be a better person. . . . ​W hat education does is make me glow. I think that’s what it does—it makes me happy.” Like Phoebe, other ­mothers viewed their experiences with education as crucial to increasing their self-­esteem, self-­ confidence, and personal determination. This, in turn, allowed them to connect to the world around them. Jasmine explained: The advantages of ­going to school is acquiring not only your self-­esteem back, but acquiring the ability to be in a social atmosphere again. Learn how to be in a social atmosphere, and you also learn about a lot of social ­things all the way around. Having an instructor, being with other students, being around other adults, seeing what the updated opportunities are out ­there, what’s out on the market, and most importantly acquiring new skills, and academic skills too. Refreshing your academic ability, which allows you to have that true ability to feel a ­little more educated in the way you speak and the way you pre­sent yourself. Y ­ ou’re a ­little more knowledgeable on the current events in the world and in your community, po­liti­cally. It ­really opens a lot of doors for you to have the opportunity to kinda blend back into society, ­because when y­ ou’re on welfare you r­ eally feel marginalized and isolated. And that’s been my experience on welfare.

Other ­mothers echoed Jasmine’s feeling of isolation. They felt that being on welfare closed them off from many of the opportunities of middle-­class life and community involvement. Through their education, they felt that they w ­ ere able to actively participate in that life again or for the first time. In some cases, like Jasmine’s, m ­ others had felt very isolated during their experiences with homelessness and severe domestic vio­lence. In pursuing higher education, they felt connected with a community and less marginalized by society.

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Some ­mothers had been raised on welfare, and through education they ­were able to learn about aspects of society that they w ­ ere not familiar with and to build what sociologists call cultural capital. Betty explained: “You just get to see a w ­ hole dif­f er­ent side of t­ hings. I mean being—­personally for myself, growing up on welfare and coming from a f­ amily where a lot of p­ eople d­ idn’t work, I mean you get to meet other p­ eople and see dif­fer­ent ­things. You get to see all ­these dif­fer­ent views and dif­fer­ent ­people, and of course hopefully you’ll get a good job. But I think it just helps you see t­ hings in a dif­fer­ent light, and you just learn dif­fer­ent t­ hings.” Learning ­those t­ hings was invaluable to the m ­ others and made them feel connected to society and their community. Building cultural capital, like ­human capital, helped them in the ­labor market. The m ­ others discussed learning about dif­f er­ent ­people and cultures through their education and learning that they ­were not alone, but instead connected to their world. Being connected to and aware of that world was very impor­tant to them, especially in the case of ­women who may not always have felt that they ­were part of the world around them. Nancy commented on how her higher education made her more aware of the world around her: “You just learn about yourself, you learn that ­you’re not alone, ­you’re so connected with the universe. . . . ​And I learned about myself. Okay, I have certain qualities which are good, and some that I need to work on. Education is a never-­ending pro­cess, and you learn about yourself, your challenges, what ­you’re good at, the positive, the negative, and how that relates to other ­people.” Through their higher education, student parents are learning much more than the explicit content of the curriculum of their courses and majors. They are building their social and cultural capital at the same time as they are building their ­human capital. Furthermore, many of the ­mothers discussed how their education empowered them, built their self-­esteem, made them feel less isolated, and encouraged them to seek ­mental health ser­vices to work on trauma and other ­mental health issues. Building self-­esteem and connecting to the world around them was also illustrated in how the ­mothers planned for their ­f uture. RBS explained: “It [education] means a lot. It is like my f­ uture. Gives me hope. I mean I know that I would be a much happier person ­because I am fulfilling my educational goals. And not just that I want to be able to have a job where I know that I am g­ oing to be happy ­doing what I do, which is helping other ­people, ­whether it is l­ ittle kids or elder ­people, or what­ever, and also have the time to still spend, as far as building a ­family.” They believed that fulfilling their educational goals would allow them to move out of poverty and into jobs that w ­ ere better than the ones that they had had before. The ­mothers’ education created a space in which they felt better about themselves; felt connected to their communities in deeper ways; and allowed them the freedom to hope, dream, and plan.

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My Education Allows Me to Help ­People, Like Somebody Helped Me Despite their treatment in the welfare system, or perhaps b­ ecause of it, many ­mothers w ­ ere interested helping c­ areers such as social work, casework, teaching, domestic vio­lence advocacy, and community organ­izing. Their education meant that they could fulfill their goals of helping other ­people, as many of them had been helped by someone along the way. Betty explained: It [education] means a lot. I mean, I’m the first person in my ­family to go to college, so I proved to myself that I could finish something. I want to be able to get a good job and take care of my kid. My kid sees me ­going to school, so you know, I’m hoping she’s ­going to follow in my footsteps, and it means a lot to me just ­because of my past experience. I can use that and the stuff I learned from LIFETIME and everywhere to help other ­people, ­because ­there’s still so many ­people that d­ on’t even know that they can go to school. . . . ​I just want to use it, of course to have a better life, but to help make change and help ­people, like somebody helped me. That’s what I want to do.

The m ­ others’ desires and plans to use their education not only for their own personal gain but also to improve their communities and ­people’s lives ­were central to their explanations of why their education was so impor­tant. Many ­mothers received help from advocates or organ­izations, and recognizing the value of that assistance, they wanted to help o­ thers in turn. The ­mothers discussed how their education meant every­thing to them, and they explored how this entailed aspects such as l­abor market advancement, being a role model to their ­children, and expanding their connection to the world around them. I found that they ­were pursuing the normative ideals of the American Dream: provide for yourself and your ­family, be a role model for your c­ hildren, and be part of your community. They are not morally deficient, as the po­liti­cal misconceptions of welfares want us to believe—­they are ­mothers fighting for better economic opportunities, providing for their c­ hildren, and building their f­ utures.

­Family Perspectives on Their Education In addition to the m ­ others’ accounts of the meaning of their education to them, they also explored how their ­children, partners, and families responded to their educational journey. In this section, I examine what the m ­ others felt their families believed about their education, and why their perspectives mattered in terms of motivations, sense of support, and ac­cep­tance. The w ­ omen w ­ ere fighting hard to pursue their higher education while on welfare, and support and encouragement from their c­ hildren, f­ amily members, and romantic partners

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helped encourage them to keep moving along their path. It made a clear difference in their success. However, in some cases negative sentiments, discouraging comments, or outright sabotage of their efforts damaged their chances.

My C ­ hildren Are Proud of Me The c­ hildren motivated the ­mothers to keep ­going and w ­ ere often described as being proud of their ­mothers, being their biggest cheerleaders, and providing support so that the m ­ others could achieve their educational goals. Mariposa, a community college student, said of her three-­year-­old son, “he motivates me. When I look at him, I think I c­ an’t fail him.” Jewel’s thirteen-­year-­old son was her biggest supporter. She reported that he had supported her through a ­great deal, especially her recovery from substance abuse and her pursuit of higher education: “I thanked him for being my number one cheerleader, b­ ecause he’s always like, ‘Go, mom! You can do it! Go, mom!’ I take him to get my birthday chips for clean time,6 and when I first got in the program he came, and the director who hands out the chips gave him my thirty-­day chip, and my son got to stand up and give it to me for my thirty days. So I was like all excited, you know, so that’s emotional too.”7 The ­children supported the w ­ omen’s educational and personal aspirations, often in ways that their partners and ­family members did not, as we ­will see below. No ­mothers in my research described their ­children as unsupportive. Instead, all of the w ­ omen mentioned how proud their ­children ­were of them. A few of the ­mothers commented that their kids said that they wished they could spend more time with their ­mothers, or that their ­mothers ­were always busy with school, as discussed in chapter 4. Yet even ­these ­mothers emphasized that their ­children ­were supportive, just aware of time constraints. The c­ hildren also seemed to understand the importance of their m ­ others’ education and to provide support and encouragement at key moments. Misha explained how her ten-­year-­old d­ aughter encouraged her: “My ­daughter, she pushes me, she ­really is my motivation. She is so understanding—­she is just a very understanding child. And she d­ oesn’t want to be, she knows, she tells me, ‘Mama you know, you have a lot to get right about yourself, Mama, and you know, and I know that you like nice ­things, and I know that you are ­going to keep ­doing this.’ ” Monique, Misha, and many other ­mothers ­were kept on track by their ­children’s constant questioning and checking up on them to encourage them to do well in school. Monique reported that her four-­year-­old ­daughter’s questions encouraged her: “She just says [speaking in a baby voice]: ‘We gotta go to school mommy, we gotta go to school, you ­going to school, did you go to school?’ [Speaking in her normal voice] so I think I set a good example for her, ’cause like I do homework, I have her sit down and do some homework. She likes to write and color and stuff like that. Just feel like I am setting a good example—­school is good, go to school, it is fun, you know.” Monique’s example illustrates both how the ­children encouraged the ­mothers and how the

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­ others w m ­ ere good role models for their c­ hildren. This cycle encouraged every­ one in the ­family to achieve academically, no m ­ atter how old the ­children ­were. The m ­ others deeply believed that if they went to college, their c­ hildren would be more likely to pursue higher education. This comes across in what their ­children said about the ­mothers’ education and their own educational aspirations. Rebecca said: I think that t­ hey’re proud of me, and I think that they know that for them it’s not, you know, if ­they’re ­going to go to college, it’s where ­they’re ­going to go to college. And you know, they know that t­ hey’re on their road right now. You know, my fourth grader knows that she’s on the road to college, and that you ­can’t start too early. You d­ on’t wait ­until ­you’re in high school to decide, “okay, am I ­going to go to college or not?” You need to be working ­every day ­towards that, you know, and it’s impor­tant that they see me making that choice—­whether it was before, early in my life, or now, just me showing that it’s impor­tant and being a role model to them is [pause] it’s just so valuable. I mean, they r­ eally know that education is impor­tant, not ­because I told them, but b­ ecause I am showing them.

For Rebecca and other m ­ others with young ­children, this realization had an influence on their c­ hildren at a young age. However, as D discovered, even though her three ­children had already graduated from high school or ­were about to, her educational goals encouraged them to go back to school and give higher education a chance. She explained that her c­ hildren “say one ­thing with their mouth, which is, Mom, y­ ou’re too old to be in school.” But I noticed they all want to do what I want to do, they want to go to college, and they came to [my college]. So they say with their actions that t­ hey’re very proud of me, so I ­really feel good about that.” Sometimes the c­ hildren, with love and admiration, teased their m ­ others about g­ oing to school. However, their educational actions and aspirations mirrored t­ hose of their m ­ others. When the ­mothers graduated, their ­children ­were often their biggest fans, and the ­mothers felt their support most acutely. Mindy, a recent community college gradu­ate, explained her ­daughter’s experience: “She loves it! . . . ​When ­they’re ­little, they see you, they watch you, they want to follow your footsteps. My ­daughter was at my graduation. When I graduated she was crying. She wore my cap and gown at home ­because she wants to gradu­ate.” In addition to being proud of their m ­ others through school and during graduation, some of the ­children also went to work with their ­mothers. The ­mothers wanted their kids to see what they had worked so hard to achieve. Nicole reported that her ten-­ year-­old ­daughter “likes the fact that she see[s] me out t­ here ­going and d­ oing what I need to do. And she loves the work that I love to do. I bring her along

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with me ­because she gets to see, and it affects her—­whatever I am ­doing affects her life. And she knows that. So what I am ­doing is part of her, and she sees me modeling what I need to do. So when she gets older, ­she’ll do the same ­thing as well.” Through school, graduation, and into their ­careers, the ­mothers ­were striving to provide for their ­children. However, this was not a one-­way street. The ­children, without direct information from their m ­ others, seemed to understand their m ­ others’ aspirations. The c­ hildren’s understanding, encouragement, motivation, and inspiration provided the foundation that the m ­ others needed to keep ­going through school, even when they ­were struggling. The ­children’s role was central to the m ­ others’ expectations for pursuing education in the first place, and their role in getting the m ­ others through school was also impor­tant.

My Partner Tries to Be Supportive, but . . . The support of the w ­ omen’s boyfriends, ­children’s f­ athers, and partners is a more complex story. In some cases, their partners ­were wholly supportive and provided a significant amount of encouragement. For example, Marie met the man she is now married to while she was in school, and they both had clear educational goals that they ­were working t­ oward separately. When they got together, they helped each other meet their goals: He was r­ eally happy ­because when we ­were dating, I had told him my goals. You know, I wanted to transfer, and he’s always been very, very supportive, and that’s his f­ amily too. His m ­ other geared him to [feel that] academics are very impor­tant, so he was always very supportive of me. And that was a big ­thing for me, too. If he w ­ asn’t ­going to college and pursuing his bachelor’s degree, I ­don’t know if I would have hit it off with him, b­ ecause I ­really wanted someone who was on the same page as me. So that was a big f­ actor. We both had that mutual understanding that we have a goal that w ­ e’re both individually trying to accomplish, and having the support for that was impor­tant. We needed that from one another. So he’s been very supportive.

It was rare for a ­mother to attend school at the same time as her partner. More often, one person pursued higher education, while the partner provided emotional and financial support. RBS explained how her boyfriend felt about her pursuing her degree: “He loves it, he is actually willing to sacrifice, working ­until I have finished. He is actually waiting for me to get my degree [before ­going to college himself].” A few other m ­ others with boyfriends used this tag-­team approach to higher education. In some cases, like Sydney’s, a ­mother’s pursuit of higher education encouraged her partner to go to school as well. Sydney commented: “Oh, he loved it. He absolutely loved it. He is one of t­ hose, ­really bad childhood types of ­things where he got his GED, and ­after he saw

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me in college, he actually went and got his bioscience degree. It was ­really cool. He loved it. he was r­ eally, r­ eally proud of me. He would tell p­ eople, ‘oh yeah, my girl is in school.’ So, yeah, it was cool.” Even when partners ­were supportive of the ­mothers’ educational goals, strug­ gles ­were common b­ ecause ­going to school is difficult. Lucy, who was in her last semester of her bachelor’s degree, explained that even though her partner was supportive, they all strug­gled b­ ecause she was in school: He supports me. Sometimes [when] I’m a l­ ittle stressed out I’m hard on him, if anything, ­because I expect [him] if he’s at home to be able to help me more, but he’s so tired, it’s almost impossible to, so—um, he ­really supports me, though. Most of the years that I was in school prior, I h ­ aven’t always had a steady job, he’s been the one who always had a steady job. I’ve always had financial aid, but it’s never been enough. . . . ​A nd he never gets jealous and like, “Who are you studying with”? He might ask, but he supports me [laughs]. We hope in the end that this is all ­going to help us. . . . ​­We’re all suffering now, ­we’re all suffering. Every­one’s helping me, and every­one’s suffering with me basically [laughs].

However, the experiences of Lucy and the other m ­ others discussed in this section ­were only one aspect of this story. In many more cases, the m ­ others’ boyfriends and partners w ­ ere somewhat supportive but had fears and anxiety about the ­women having more education than they did. They ­were intimidated by the ­women’s educational and ­career aspirations. The ­women felt their partners’ anxiety and intimidation, and this threatened both the relationships and the ­women’s ability to achieve their educational goals. Jasmine reflected about her partner, with whom she lived in 2006: He’s supportive about it, but he’s kind of negative about it at the same time ­because he’s an alcoholic. A lot of times he puts me down about it, he gets kind of jealous and angry about it. A lot of times, a lot of the t­ hings that he does in his life ­really does [sic] get in the way of my ability to move on with school, so I’m kind of having a strug­g le with that right now. Even though he has been ­there to watch the kids a lot, still ­there’s a price to pay for me t­ here, ­because when I get home he starts drinking, and I ­can’t do homework and stuff. And ­there’s times that I c­ ouldn’t go to school ­because of his drinking, so ­there’s a win and a lose in a big way on that situation.

Jasmine blamed many of her partner’s actions on his alcoholism, but other ­mothers had similar experiences. Their partners w ­ ere not thrilled about their ­going to school. While boyfriends might provide some child care while the

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­ others ­were in school or a ­little extra income that allowed the ­women to m keep ­going to school, once the ­mothers got home from campus, their partners expected them to perform ­women’s traditional ­house­hold duties. The partners w ­ ere not willing to pitch in. This discouraged the m ­ others ­because it meant that they did not have the time, energy, or a place to study. The partners’ anxiety and intimidation also took other forms. Sally, a thirty-­ seven-­year-­old Asian Pacific Islander m ­ other of two and community college student, was also a recovering drug addict, yet her partner was still using drugs in 2006, and this caused major disruptions in her education. She explained that he was intimidated by her educational goals, and that his drug use while she was in school put a strain on their relationship: “You know, he’s ­really supportive. I think it scares him, and . . . ​I hope it’ll scare him into trying sobriety again, even if it means another relapse. You know, it definitely—­just one person ­doing drugs, and the other not does create a strain, in what­ever . . . ​even in the relationship. When you start adding t­ hings like school to it, it r­ eally—it puts a r­ eally large, large, big, big strain on it. But he’s r­ eally supportive, and he—­ he’s glad I’m d­ oing it. You know, he’s glad that I’m ­doing it.” In Sally’s case, like Jasmine’s, her partner said that he was supportive, but his actions did not support his words. Jane worried about how her education intimidated her ­daughter’s ­father, with whom she was in an off-­and-on relationship. She wondered if her ability to bring in higher wages than he did would affect their relationship: He thinks it’s good, he r­ eally likes it. Sometimes he gets upset, and I think he said before that sometimes he gets intimidated, b­ ecause he feels like sometimes—­for a while he talked about cars a lot, he likes cars a lot, and I would bring something up, and I d­ on’t think he’d understand what I was talking about and I’d get frustrated [laughs]. But it’s not something I should do, and I think he’s said before that he feels intimidated. But he’s excited about it, he is happy about it, he’s excited about it, be happy about it. But I think it could definitely put a damper on the relationship if I am bringing home a lot more money, if I got a BA. I mean, he’s making a ­little bit more than minimum wage. He seems okay with it, but I’m not him, so I ­don’t ­really know. . . . ​He says it’s okay with it, he seems okay with it, but I know how that can make a person feel. I mean, I . . . ​have felt intimidated by educated ­people before, so I understand that feeling.

Jane’s worry was not uncommon. Some other participants worried how their education would threaten their current relationships or affect their ability to find partners in the f­ uture. Some m ­ others ­were certain that their education had positive effects on their romantic relationships and wanted partners with similar educational aspirations or achievements, while o­ thers w ­ ere concerned about

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their current relationships and their prospects for the f­ uture. Overall, the ­women’s romantic relationships seemed to complicate their educational aspirations, although the w ­ omen claimed that the men in their lives tried to be supportive.

My F­ amily Is Supportive, but I D ­ on’t Think They Understand Somewhere between the supportive cheerleader c­ hildren and the partners navigating complicated romantic relationships with the w ­ omen, the w ­ omen’s families also had mixed views about their education. Some families w ­ ere very supportive of the ­mothers’ educational aspirations and provided unconditional love and critical emotional and financial support. Yet many families ­were unsure how to be supportive while the ­women w ­ ere in college. Mainly they did not understand the experience the ­mother was having, yet they understood that being in college would have a positive effect on the ­woman’s f­ uture but was also an intense daily strug­gle. Their words and ways of showing support echoed this conflict. A few of the ­mothers had very supportive families. Rebecca had a ­family that was supportive in both concrete and emotional ways. She and her young ­children lived with her parents. She expressed how vital her parents’ support was to her well-­being: “They w ­ ere very supportive of [my education], t­ hey’ve always been supportive of me, no m ­ atter what I do, good or bad. Unconditional love is an easy ­thing to say, but it’s a harder ­thing to do, and ­they’ve done it. And so t­ hey’re proud of me, of course, but more than that—um, they r­ eally supported me through it. And so, not just, you know, ‘­we’ll be ­here if you need us to babysit’ but I mean—­really, they let me live at their home, d­ idn’t make me pay any rent, you know, helping me save money to get a car. All t­ hese t­ hings, they r­ eally support me in ­doing and showing me that education is impor­tant.” Daria said that her ­family was “so proud. So proud. Umm, my mom gets teary ­these days whenever we are talking about it. My dad is just beaming ear to ear that both of his kids are graduating within a year of each another. And we are both teachers or work in education. So they are very proud of us.” Her parents, who ­were divorced, provided both her and her ­brother with significant financial and emotional support through their undergraduate ­careers. When Daria became pregnant in her ju­nior year of college, she did not have to drop out of school but was able, through her ­family’s support and welfare assistance, to earn her degree. For Taz, her m ­ other’s support was very impor­tant to her g­ oing to school. Her m ­ other helped her realize that for a young black ­mother in a very poor section of Oakland, education was one of the few paths out of poverty. Taz explained: “Oh, she’s excited. She just told me keep ­going. ‘You just keep ­going,’ she said. ‘That’s the best t­ hing for you. Y ­ ou’ve got two kids, y­ ou’re on the right road, ­you’re a young ­mother, seventeen. Th ­ ere’s a lot of young ­mothers out ­there

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who are not ­doing anything. ­They’re on the streets, having all ­these babies, you know, dependent on welfare to pay for stuff.’ You know, she just told me by being a young ­mother that you did ­great and just keep ­going, d­ on’t stop.” For some of the m ­ others, like Taz and Daria, their pregnancies w ­ ere unexpected, but they did not let that affect their educational aspirations. Like Taz and Daria, Sydney had an unexpected pregnancy a­ fter she started college, and her m ­ other’s support was essential to her as she continued to pursue her education at a school closer to home. Sydney said about her m ­ other: “I think she w ­ asn’t sure what was g­ oing to happen ­after I got pregnant. She had sent me off to this ­really prestigious black college and I kinda ruined it, more or less, and I think she was ­really worried that I was just ­going to be some girl with a baby. So she was ­really happy when I kept ­going and kept g­ oing. It took me a ­little longer than expected. But she was so proud of me when I graduated.” This unconditional support was uncommon, but as seen in t­ hese narratives, such support played an impor­tant role in sustaining several m ­ others and helping them achieve their educational goals. This support was also much more common among families from middle-­ class backgrounds, and it illustrates the way that social and cultural capital is passed from one generation to the next. More commonly, ­mothers reported that their families ­were supportive but did not fully understand their educational aspirations or what it took to earn a college degree as a single parent in the welfare system. Lele, a m ­ other of five who had recently completed her associate’s degree and was in the pro­cess of transferring to the University of California (UC), Berkeley, explained that her ­family supported her but did not fully understand her life: Every­body, they are very encouraging. . . . ​My parents, they are just like in awe, like: “Wow, I c­ an’t believe that you are d­ oing this, that is ­great. Like, we d­ idn’t think that you would ever, you know, go to school.” You know, I want to tell them, it’s not like you ­really encouraged me, but you know. I ­really give my parents a lot of leverage. They ­didn’t know, they w ­ ere ignorant to a lot of ­things. They thought that you w ­ ere supposed to go to high school and get a job. And when you d­ on’t, when you mess up and get pregnant and have to get married, you ruined that. So, you know, that is their scope of the world.

Lele’s parents, like the members of other participants’ families, tried to be supportive, although they did not fully grasp how or why the ­mothers pursued higher education while on welfare. Monique said about her parents: “They are proud of me. My dad, he wants me to work. And he may not understand, I know, b­ ecause a lot of times I strug­gle b­ ecause I d­ on’t get a lot of money from aid monthly. It is not high, it is not enough. But I make it, and he’s like ‘go get a job,’ and I am like, ‘I know, but I just want to finish school, so that when I do finish school, I can get a good paying one.’ I d­ on’t want to keep jumping from

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job to job to job. I want to get somewhere I want to stay.” Monique’s strug­gle to stay in school, despite the financial difficulties, was not understood by her parents but was by other m ­ others. Betty, whose m ­ other was on welfare when she was younger, noted how complicated support can be when your f­ amily does not ­really understand your strug­gles. She explained how her m ­ other and s­ ister responded: They think it’s good. I know ­they’re proud of me, and my mom’s ­really happy. She cries all the time when, you know, if I get an award or, you know, when I’m graduating. My s­ ister’s very supportive. She helps me with watching [my ­daughter] on the weekends so I can do papers and ­things like that, but with my mom too, I feel like she ­doesn’t r­ eally understand how impor­tant it is to me sometimes, ­because when I’m at my breaking point and I’m crying and I just feel like I c­ an’t take it, I’m not smart enough to do the work—­whatever it might be—my mom always says, “well, maybe you should just drop out.” She just ­doesn’t understand, and I’m like, “you c­ an’t just drop out, it would be like all this time and effort for nothing.” You know? But t­ hey’re proud, ­they’re happy. I try to tell my mom and my s­ ister both. My mom never graduated high school, neither did my s­ ister—­but they hate school, they d­ on’t want to go to school. I even tell my ­sister all the time—­she works in a drug program, and I’m like, “you could take ­these drug and alcohol education classes, get a certificate.” And I’m like, “I’ll do it with you, that’s not g­ oing to hurt me, that would just be better.” But they hate school, they ­don’t want to go to school.

Lele, Monique, and Betty illustrated just some of the complicated ways that their families tried to support their educational goals but for the most part did not fully understand the choices that they ­were making. Their families wanted them to be successful but did not fully realize the steps that it would take for them to complete school. This lack of understanding can undermine the support their families tried to provide. In a few cases, the ­mothers’ families w ­ ere overtly negative about their pursuit of higher education. For example, Marie said: My dad was ok with me getting my AA degree, but he r­ eally ­wasn’t very supportive of me getting my bachelor’s degree. . . . ​He looks at cost, he thinks of something like the place of Berkeley as the ivory tower, where elite rich p­ eople go, and then questioning ­whether having your bachelor’s degree w ­ ill ­really help you make any more money. I d­ on’t know. I find that surprising, ­because my dad was ­going to try to get his bachelor’s, but then he opted to stay with his AA degree and at [a local technical college]. So he’s always been skeptical. And my stepmom, it was always like, “okay, when are you ­going to be done, how much longer are you g­ oing to be at school, when are you g­ oing to get a job?” That was

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the big t­ hing with my ­family, and you know, now that I have my degree, t­ hey’re proud of me, and ­they’re proud of my accomplishments. But t­ here’s always like a sense of weariness: “You know, ­you’ve been g­ oing to school for a long time now.” So that’s what I got a lot of the time.

Marie’s f­ amily was pleased when she finished her associate’s degree, but their negativity while she was pursuing her bachelor’s degree made attaining that goal more difficult. Although she was working for a decent wage in her field shortly ­a fter her graduation, her ­family still questioned ­whether she had needed to gradu­ate from UC Berkeley to get that job. Similarly, Vanessa’s ­family did not understand the value of higher education for Vanessa or her d­ aughter. Vanessa explained what vari­ous members of her f­ amily felt about her education: Oh, t­ hey’re not too happy about it. . . . ​My ­father, my biological ­father—­I have no idea what he thinks about me being in school. I guess he thinks that as long as I’m not out having more babies, you know, I’m okay. My stepfather is a l­ ittle happier about me ­going to school. He’s come ­here before, and he knows that education can kind of get me somewhere. But he d­ oesn’t want me to stay in school too long, and it’s mainly ­because of what my m ­ other and grand­mother think—­that school is a waste of time. B ­ ecause when you go to school y­ ou’re not making money, and if anything ­you’re paying money, ­you’re paying them to get an education. And that’s how they look at it, as a waste of money, a way to get into debt. I believe that b­ ecause I am the black sheep of the f­ amily that they—­I guess that they feel that only once it needs to be said and no more, b­ ecause I’ve let them know that it’s their opinion and basically to keep it to themselves. ­Because if t­ hey’re not ­going to pay my bills, then they are not g­ oing to have a say in what I do.

Vanessa tried to say that her ­family’s negative feelings about her education did not affect her. However, it was evident that, in general, families’ support of the ­mothers’ education was impor­tant to the ­mothers and they felt assisted by it in meeting their educational goals. Negative feelings on the part of the m ­ others’ families about their education undermined their ability to achieve their goals.

High Expectations for Education to Lift Them out of Poverty The ­mothers I interviewed made their case about why they pursued higher education while on welfare to their ­children, boyfriends, and parents by constructing narratives about the meanings and importance of their education. The many meanings they shared with their families and me indicate their instrumental expectations for pursuing higher education in the first place (increasing their ­human capital to be more competitive in the l­ abor market and being role

My Education Means Every­thing to Me  •  123

models for their ­children) but also the aspirations that they acquired along their path through higher education. The realizations they had along the way—­ understanding the impact of education on their self-­esteem; realizing that they ­were gaining knowledge that would always be with them; and seeing that education was increasing their connections to their broader communities, making them able to help other ­people more effectively, and giving them ­great hope for their f­ uture—­were as impor­tant to the w ­ omen as their original goals of getting better jobs and improving their ­children’s lives. ­These original expectations and additional realizations ­were profoundly impor­tant to the m ­ others’ individual goals of getting out of poverty and making a better life for their c­ hildren. Also, their narratives empowered the m ­ others to become involved in helping o­ thers along the path they had taken and working collectively to make the path easier for all. Through their education they recognized that the ­future might not be perfect, but they ­were optimistic. This examination of their narratives demonstrates that ­mothers on welfare pursue higher education for the same reasons that most Americans do, mainly to get ahead in the ­labor market. Some of the other expectations described ­here—­such as being a role model for their c­ hildren and increasing their ­self-­esteem—­also are found in other discussions of why ­women, particularly older w ­ omen, pursue higher education.8 Their pursuit of higher education is in line with many cultural beliefs about what is needed to pursue and achieve the American Dream. By believing in and attempting to pursue the American Dream, m ­ others on welfare in higher education prove a central point to conservative critics: they are not culturally dif­f er­ent than other Americans. M ­ others on welfare pursue higher education to support themselves and their families, and their beliefs are rooted in the same sense of what it takes to pursue the American Dream that many other Americans have. However, the significance that the ­women attributed to their education evolved a­ fter the 2006 interviews. Many participants in this study l­ ater recognized that higher education was not enough to get out of poverty, at least not for every­body, and that other policies should be considered. Some ­mothers viewed the l­ abor market as not fully meritocratic as they gained a more structural view of the economic policies that create poverty. In chapters 6 and 7, I  explore how the ­women’s understandings of their education evolved ­after they graduated and during the ­Great Recession.

6

Hope and Fear during the ­Great Recession

Jane was a thoughtful, direct, or­ga­nized, yet easygoing ­mother whom I met at Chabot Community College early in my research. She was one of the first participants to volunteer for an interview whom I had not met through the activist organ­ization Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME). In December 2005, just as the semester was ending, we talked for the first time in a small room in the California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs) office suite at Chabot. Jane told me how she had gotten pregnant in her sophomore year at the local California State University. She was making good pro­gress t­oward her bachelor’s degree and working part time in retail. Despite being admitted to competitive state universities out of town and to Spelman College in Atlanta, Georgia, she had chosen to go to school locally and live at home with her working-­and middle-­class parents (her m ­ other owned a day spa and salon, and her f­ ather drove a delivery truck). She was their only child, but each also had c­ hildren from a previous marriage. In her early childhood her parents had owned their own home, but they had sold it and w ­ ere now renting the home they lived in with Jane. In December 2002, nine months pregnant, she had finished her fall-­quarter classes while also still trying to work at her part-­time job through the busy holiday season. However, she had quit just before Christmas ­because of her advanced pregnancy. Resigned, she had gone down to the county office and applied for welfare. Her ­daughter was born two weeks ­a fter Christmas. 124

Hope and Fear during the ­Great Recession  •  125

From the start, despite her laid-­back and composed demeanor, her relationship with her welfare caseworkers was rocky. Notwithstanding California’s one-­ year work exemption for ­mothers of infants, the caseworkers pressured her to return to work immediately and encouraged her to stop g­ oing to school and find a full-­time job. Her parents took the opposite view—­they valued her college education, and her m ­ other especially dreamed of Jane earning her bachelor’s degree. Jane felt caught in the m ­ iddle. She wanted to return to school. She was worried about supporting a newborn without a college degree in the Bay Area, ­because it was such an expensive place to live. She strug­gled with the decision: “[the welfare caseworkers] encouraged me to try to work more. I think it was my parents [who] w ­ ere r­eally adamant about me d­ oing school. I ­wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I was just sitting t­ here having a baby coming; I ­didn’t know what I wanted to do. But [the welfare caseworkers] w ­ ere just ­really more concerned with me ­doing a welfare work activity.” Indeed, caseworkers often ignored situations like Jane’s, in which the m ­ other applying for welfare had been ­doing well in higher education before getting pregnant. Furthermore, as discussed above, in California m ­ others who w ­ ere already in school when they applied for welfare w ­ ere allowed, per state policy, to stay in school as their welfare-­to-­work activity. That message was never conveyed to Jane, and she felt pressured to find a job. Yet her parents’ support and prodding seemed to make the difference. In August 2003, with an eight-­month-­old baby, Jane went back to school. Instead of returning to the state university where she had started her degree, Jane transferred to the community college just down the street. It offered more ser­vices for ­mothers on CalWORKs and accessible child care, and it was less expensive. She transferred her credits and focused on getting an associate’s degree in early childhood development. When we sat down for our first interview, she told me about earning early childhood education (ECE) credits so that she would be qualified to work in a preschool. She had recently started working part time again, in a preschool, since she had earned enough ECEs to qualify for the job. Jane praised the CalWORKs office at her community college: “I found a lot of support from the CalWORKs staff at Chabot. And that was good b­ ecause when I had my ­daughter, I was so ner­vous, I d­ idn’t know what I was g­ oing to do with my life. I d­ on’t know how to get back into school or get back into work and get her into child care.” She went on, comparing the ser­vices and resources for welfare parents at the community college with ­those available through the welfare office: Chabot was ­really supportive, and [name of staff member] was awesome. I absolutely loved her. She was like one of the best ­people I’ve ever met. And if I could just go through them [instead of the welfare office], that would have been

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amazing, ­because they treated every­body on an individual basis. It ­wasn’t—it ­wasn’t just like you walk in the door and then, you know, ­you’re just some social [welfare] case. ­You’re just a case number, and y­ ou’re just getting on every­one’s nerves. So I r­ eally—­and they helped jump-­start me where I am ­today. I ­can’t say that [enough], I c­ an’t thank them enough. B ­ ecause I have to thank them from where I’m at right now. ’Cause if I d­ idn’t have that support, then I ­wouldn’t be in the job that I’m in right now.

Her feelings about the welfare office w ­ ere also clear: “I w ­ on’t say thank-­you to the welfare office. I just—­I ­really think that they gotta revamp that. I think that they gotta just be more, you know? I know what it’s like working with ­people. I—­even before I worked h ­ ere, I worked in retail. I know it’s not the same, but you still have to treat every­body on an individual basis. You ­can’t just generalize p­ eople, and, you know, p­ eople start acting crazy ­because ­you’re treating them crazy.” Jane also explained the difference this made to her when she was completing her degree: The difference between the CalWORKs programs at the community colleges and the welfare office—is [the community college program staff] do want you to get a higher education, and they do want to push you. And that’s the kind of ­people that p­ eople like me need. You need someone saying, “Keep g­ oing, you can do this. It ­will help you.” And, you know, “Of course, maybe you w ­ ere dealt a bad hand or what­ever. But ­you’re trying to make it, and w ­ e’re willing to help you do that.” But then . . . ​you go to this place [the welfare office], and ­they’re not—­they ­don’t make you feel that way. They ­don’t make you feel like they want you to finish. It’s kind of like, “okay, get the best you can get and get out of ­here and get a job.” You know? And that’s what I did. I was like I gotta get out. I ­can’t. This is not gonna work for me.

Jane’s strong work ethic, her determination to earn her bachelor’s degree, and her desire to be off welfare w ­ ere clear and per­sis­tent parts of her narrative. Her disdain for the welfare system came clearly from their disrespect for her education, their pushing of work activities on her as if she was just trying to cheat the system to get benefits, and her feeling that the overloaded caseworkers ignored reasonable requests. Although she called her caseworker and left phone messages for weeks, “my eligibility counselor—­and I hope this gets on the rec­ ord [laughs]—­has been my counselor for six months, and I’ve not talked to her one time, never. I have not talked to her one time. Never. All I know is her name and her worker number, and that’s it—­I’ve not talked to her one time. And then ­they’re having a big issue up t­ here right now, in as far as t­ hey’ve transferred like 250,000 cases over to a new computer system. . . . ​I ­haven’t got my benefits for

Hope and Fear during the ­Great Recession  •  127

this month, and you know what’s bother­ing me? They act like it’s not a big deal! ‘You’ll be fine,’ and you know, no, ­we’re not! B ­ ecause I depend on it right now for certain t­ hings!” Incidents like this, which happened over and over again, motivated Jane to get off welfare as quickly as she could. Two and a half years l­ ater, in August 2008, Jane and I met for lunch at a chain restaurant at the local mall. She told me that she had earned her associate’s degree since we had last seen each other. Jane was now working full time at a job with a livable wage, and she was off all public assistance and pursuing a ­career in her field. She excitedly told me: “I’m making $18 an hour, and I was r­ eally surprised to be making that without a bachelor’s degree. . . . ​I finished my AA [associate’s] degree at Chabot, and I wanted to transfer, but the CalWORKs program is ­really good, but it’s just not enough for me to support her [­daughter] getting older. And so I was like, I ­really need to get a good job right now. And, you know, take us to the next income level ’cause . . . ​the schooling that I did do t­ here actually did take me to the next income bracket, which was a good ­thing. And I’m r­ eally excited, and I work at a private school.” Yet she still spoke about longing to go back to school for her bachelor’s degree, her continued concerns about money, and her continued disdain for welfare. In this chapter, I explore how ­mothers like Jane managed their transition off welfare, out of higher education, and into the workforce. In August and September of 2008, I reinterviewed twenty-­five of the participants I had interviewed in 2006 (including Jane). In their narratives, the participants discussed how they had finished college and transitioned off welfare, as well as how their activism or po­liti­cal engagement had evolved. They also shared with me their views on the 2008 election and social policy. Two years had passed between the first interviews with the m ­ others in this research and the second interviews in August and September 2008. And in t­ hose two years, the American economy had crashed and unemployment risen significantly. The poverty rate had also increased, but many low-­income families had reached their lifetime limits on welfare and timed out of public assistance. The number of the working poor doubled in the United States between 2001 and 2010.1 The economy collapsed at the same time as many of the m ­ others in this research finished their degrees. They entered the ­labor market or transferred from community college to university programs during the ­Great Recession, the largest economic downturn in Amer­i­ca since the G ­ reat Depression. The dominant themes that emerged from the ­women’s narratives during the second round of interviews in this proj­ect w ­ ere change, uncertainty, hope, and fear. Th ­ ese interviews w ­ ere conducted during collective anxiety and g­ reat fear about our national economic situation. Banks w ­ ere failing. The real estate market crashed and h ­ ouse prices fell. Unemployment increased. A moment of national crisis ensued. On the other hand, the 2008 presidential campaign of

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Barack Obama was inspiring. The possibility of electing our first black president gave many Americans, including most of the w ­ omen in this study, ­great hope. Several of the ­women in this study graduated from college that year, some transferred from the community college to a bachelor’s program, and many ­were looking for postcollege career-­track jobs. M ­ others contemplated the anx­i­eties of this time. ­Mothers talked about their hopes, fears, and ongoing uncertainty. They noted that their feelings w ­ ere profoundly personal, but their anx­i­eties ­were typical of the worries of Americans during the ­Great Recession. They discussed trying to make ends meet, find jobs to support their families, achieve their educational goals, and raise their ­children. In ­earlier chapters I explored the ­women’s experiences on welfare while pursuing higher education, as the ­women recounted them to me in their first interviews in 2005 and 2006. In this chapter I return to themes from the ­earlier chapters—­their survival strategies, the meaning of their education, and their activism and community involvement—­but base my findings on the second interviews with participants to explore their experiences at the height of the ­Great Recession. For the m ­ others, this was a time of transition between the educational program they ­were in when I first met them and the program or life stage they ­were in just two years l­ ater. They discussed how their survival strategies, the meaning of their education, and their activism had changed during this transition in their lives. In the sections that follow, I ­will address the first two themes, survival and the meaning of their education, together through the narratives of three ­mothers—­Jane, Betty, and Faith—­whose experiences typified t­ hose of the group. In the final section, I ­will address the changes in the ­mothers’ activism and po­liti­cal engagement.

The ­Great Recession The G ­ reat Recession was the longest global economic downturn since World War II, and it had “its origins in an unusually dramatic financial crisis.”2 David Grusky, Bruce Western, and Christopher Wimer noted in 2011 that the G ­ reat Recession produced a large increase in joblessness, in which “the long-­term unemployed are a larger fraction of total employment, and the recovery of the ­labor market, in terms of job growth and falling unemployment, has been very slow.”3 Predominantly male-­dominated industries and occupations (such as construction and manufacturing) w ­ ere harder hit at the recession’s onset, leading some economists to dub it a “mancession” ­after finding that men ­were more affected by job losses than ­women.4 Data show that men’s job losses began ­earlier than ­women’s and lasted longer and ­were more than twice as numerous.5 However, additional research shows that w ­ omen’s job recovery lagged significantly b­ ehind men’s and that the recession left ­women more eco­nom­ically vulnerable than men.6

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Welfare reform was implemented at a time of when the economy was booming and rates of unemployment w ­ ere low. Policy makers seemed to disregard the possibility that economic growth could slow and failed to consider what would happen when the economy was less robust and unemployment rates r­ ose. What would happen when poverty increased? Would the reformed welfare system be a safety net for poor families? Welfare reform included lifetime limits on the maximum length of time that a participant could receive aid. ­These time limits w ­ ere capped at sixty months by federal Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) regulations, but in some states they w ­ ere as low as twenty-­four months. By the start of the G ­ reat Recession, many families had reached their lifetime limits on welfare and w ­ ere not eligible for any welfare safety-­net ser­vices. Other poor families who qualified thought that they ­were ineligible or ­were deterred from applying.7 As Ellen ­Reese explained, “even ­those who still qualified for welfare w ­ ere using it less frequently a­ fter federal welfare reforms w ­ ere implemented.”8 During the recession, only 30 ­percent of poor families who ­were eligible for TANF actually received it ­because TANF’s strict rules and regulations at the federal and state level did not allow the program to respond to this increased need.9 Therefore, TANF was called the “least responsive” program in the national safety net during the G ­ reat Recession.10 In spite of this, the number of families receiving TANF r­ ose by 11 ­percent between late 2007 and mid-2010.11 During the G ­ reat Recession, as Ellen ­Reese noted, “even as demands for government assistance have increased for low-­income p­ eople, the nation’s safety net, already shredded, has become even more so as state deficits rise and a new wave of welfare cutbacks spread across the nation.”12 Emerging research about the ­Great Recession focuses not only on what caused it but also on its effects on individuals, families, and society.13 Grusky, Western, and Wimer started this conversation in their edited volume The ­Great Recession, which focuses on issues such as consumption, ­family be­hav­iors (divorce, fertility, and cohabitation), and po­liti­cal attitudes.14 However, they argued that we still need much more research on the topic, particularly studies of w ­ hether certain groups w ­ ere more affected than o­ thers by the social costs of the recession and how be­hav­iors and attitudes changed in response to it. Also, as Judith Hennessy found in her research with low-­income single m ­ others, much of the current understanding of work and ­family experience is ­shaped by middle-­class values and norms, yet understanding how low-­income single ­mothers balance work and f­ amily during economic strug­g les is impor­tant.15 Using qualitative longitudinal interviews with m ­ others who pursued higher education while on welfare about their experiences in the ­Great Recession, this chapter continues that conversation.

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Survival and Educational Meaning in the G ­ reat Recession During the first round of interviews that I conducted in 2006, the m ­ others discussed how they survived on welfare in college and what their educations meant to them. By the second round in 2008, their narratives had evolved into ones about survival in the recession as members of the working poor and about the meaning of their education ­after they had completed it. They all strug­gled to find meaningful work and survive ­after welfare assistance ended. Between the first and second interviews, the m ­ others had gone from being in school full time to getting into the l­abor market. Many had graduated or transferred from associate’s to bachelor’s degree programs. In 2008 most ­were working e­ ither full-­or part time. Most ­mothers had also gone off welfare, ­either voluntarily or involuntarily. Every­one mentioned struggling financially and with time management. They discussed trying to do the right ­things for their families and their ­careers through higher education. Without phrasing it this way, they nonetheless discussed how they w ­ ere trying to live up to societal expectations of the American Dream: completing higher education and getting jobs to support their families. They wanted to be off welfare, have meaningful ­careers and jobs with living wages for their families, buy homes or have stable and affordable rental housing, and provide a good life for their ­children. They ­were struggling to fulfill their hope that higher education would lead to their achieving the American Dream. They felt stressed about having too ­little money and time. Participants discussed being on the right path t­ oward their goals but not yet having reaped the full benefits of their higher education. They hoped they would, and soon. But mostly the ­mothers ­were just keeping their heads down and, like so many other Americans during the ­Great Recession, trying to get through it. Almost all of the ­mothers expressed concern about money, time, and transitioning off welfare. Their concerns about leaving welfare centered on being cut off from aid before they ­were making enough to get by, the overpayment of their welfare benefits during the transition off aid, and the complicated pro­ cess of informing caseworkers about their income. They knew how the welfare system worked and that it was their responsibility to stay on top of their welfare payments. The welfare system would come a­ fter them for overpayments and force them to repay any money that was in doubt. In the following two vignettes, Betty and Faith explore all of t­ hese issues and explain how they strug­gled with their transition off welfare, despite getting jobs that paid above a living wage. Their narratives illustrate the situation that many ­women in this study ­were in: although they w ­ ere earning enough to “income off” welfare assistance, the system was designed to assume that they ­were trying to cheat it or engage in fraud. Furthermore, most ­women mentioned that they needed transitional assistance or more transitional aid as they “incomed off” welfare. Just ­because

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they had found a job or brought home their first paycheck did not mean that they w ­ ere instantly no longer poor or suddenly financially stable. As I was finishing the first draft of chapter 5 in May 2008, I received a call from Betty, inviting me to attend her graduation—­she had just earned a master of social work (MSW) degree. As I explained in previous chapters, Betty had dropped out of school by age fifteen and spent years using drugs. ­A fter her ­daughter was born to an addicted ­mother, Betty enrolled in county-­ordered treatment. She was required to enroll in school as part of the program, and she started at the local community college in a special program for students who had not completed high school. A ­ fter ten years in school and earning two associate’s degrees and a bachelor’s degree, in May 2008, Betty fi­nally received her MSW. At her graduation ­were her ­daughter, m ­ other, and ­sister; members of her extended f­ amily; friends; and LIFETIME friends (including me). We all sat in the second row and cheered very loudly as the dean hooded Betty. Her ten-­year-­old ­daughter stood on her seat and jumped up and down, yelling the loudest of all of us. The look on Betty’s face said it all—­joy and sheer relief at having made it. The next Monday morning, Betty started her new job as a social worker, making over $50,000 a year with full benefits. She was earning above the self-­sufficiency standard for her f­ amily on her first day off welfare. In August 2008, I sat down with Betty for a second interview. She told me about her transition off welfare immediately ­after graduation, when had she gotten a job as a result of an internship that she had just completed: I graduated, and two days ­later I got my job. So I wanted to make sure that I ­didn’t get into any trou­ble, so of course I called my welfare worker, contacted section 8, was in contact with [the local ­family support center], who was the provider for my childcare b­ ecause welfare had transferred it to them. And, uh, it took a c­ ouple weeks, of course, for the welfare [caseworker] to get back to me. And they cut me off welfare as soon as I sent them my paycheck stub. So I think within two weeks, they cut me off of my cash aid. The following—­I think two weeks l­ ater, so it was about one month, barely one month I had been ­there, child care cut me off: my income was too high. And that same Friday, section 8! [They] cut me off ­because my income was too high. So it’s like, yeah, I’m making $53,000 a year, ’ ‘ts ­great you know, it sounds wonderful—of course it is. Compared to anything ­else I have ever made before, it’s more money than I have ever made! But it was like every­thing hit me. ­Because [her d­ aughter] was not even eleven yet [the age that c­ hildren w ­ ere legally allowed to stay home alone a­ fter school]. . . . ​I’m like, “what am I ­going to do with [her ­daughter]?” My rent went from $187 to $1,240!”

I then asked Betty about her biggest strug­g les, and she replied, “My biggest strug­gles? Money still, believe it or not. I guess, well, money is at the top of my

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list. And I am semi-­okay now, but I have to start paying my student loans and ­things. . . . ​­there is like a handful of us that graduated that I know are working. And t­ here is more than a handful of p­ eople that I talk to or e-­mail back and forth [with] that are still looking for jobs. So—­I mean, for a single mom trying to find a job, I just feel like . . . ​­people are prob­ably getting cut short out of desperation ­because ­people are g­ oing to take what­ever they can, and no one is paying ­really good. Much less to get any [welfare] benefits.” I continued by asking her about her goals. She said: That’s kind of funny. My current goals are r­ eally just to get through the day. I’ve been so tired, but I think a lot of that has to do with my weight and maybe just like—­I’m done with school for now, I still c­ an’t even believe it. It’s like I come home, and I’m just so used to being stressed and having to write a paper or read a book and not being able to watch TV or spending time with [her ­daughter]. So it’s like, you know, my goal at the very beginning, and I’m still ­doing that, is trying to spend more time with [her ­daughter]. ­Because I do feel that she was on the back burner compared to school a lot of time, so I’ve been trying to spend as much quality time with her as I can. Usually on Fridays, we do mommy-­daughter days, so we w ­ ill go get our nails done or go to the movies or just something so that she knows that it is special time. My health—­I ­can’t wait ­until I get my insurance b­ ecause I just feel like, I just want to be healthy again. I’m not healthy. And even ­today when I was driving. I was like, “God, am I ever ­going to go back to school, do I r­ eally need to get a PhD?” I mean, I ­don’t want to be a teacher in social work, so I d­ on’t know. And I kind of want to get my LCSW [licensed clinical social worker certification], but I do have to say I am a ­little worried about it ­because it is [a] very hard test, and it’s not like writing a paper. I would like to get my supervision if I’m g­ oing to get my LCSW. I kind of—­I have to say, I miss school a ­little bit.

Betty’s narrative illustrates several main themes in this research, centered around time and money. First, she now had a l­ ittle more time with her d­ aughter and a l­ittle more money to spend on her. But like most working parents, she did not have enough extra money and certainly not enough extra time. While Betty and the other m ­ others w ­ ere in school and on welfare, their money and time w ­ ere scarce. Betty sacrificed time with her ­daughter while she was in school, and therefore, a­ fter graduating and beginning her job, she was trying to make up for that time. Her ­daughter had seen how hard Betty had worked to earn her bachelor’s degree then her MSW. They had strug­gled together as a ­family to make it to this point. Betty’s priorities had never fundamentally changed—­she wanted to make a better life for her ­daughter and herself. In her first months off welfare, despite working more than full time, Betty was try-

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ing to fulfill that promise and spend more time, quality time, with her d­ aughter. She also had just a l­ ittle more money to spend as well. They did not have g­ reat amounts of money, but rather some wiggle room that they had not had before. Most of the ­women in this research responded the same way Betty did. When they finished school, their primary goal, besides providing financially for their ­children, was to spend more time with them. Often during their pursuit of their degree, the ­women juggled quality time with their c­ hildren and time for studying or meeting other life obligations. Furthermore, ­going to college was expensive. Paying for college and kids was even more expensive. At the end of the month, the week, or even the day, ­there was never enough money from welfare, financial aid, part-­time jobs, or f­ amily members to cover all of their expenses. They strug­gled with this emotionally. They knew that completing their higher education was a positive goal for their families and would likely help their ­children in the long term, but the day-­to-­day strug­gle to find time to spend with their families and time to study was ongoing. However, once school was completed, the ­women consciously directed more time and attention to their kids. ­Women talked about how they spent this ­family time learning to cook new meals; playing at the park; exploring the museums around town; or d­ oing activities they c­ ouldn’t afford before, such as ­going to the movies or taking f­ amily trips and minivacations. Yet the itch to continue their education persisted. Like Jane and Betty, many other ­women wondered if they should keep ­going. Part of this was the influence of LIFETIME, whose motto (“from G.E.D.s to Ph.D.s”) encouraged the ­mothers to imagine themselves achieving the highest degrees pos­si­ble. Yet the ­mothers who w ­ ere working realized that, for the moment, continuing their education could wait. They concentrated on building their c­areers, managing their time and money, spending time with their ­children, and focusing on their f­ utures. Like Betty and Jane, Faith discussed her strug­gles with “time and money! The biggest strug­gles right now is just time—­you know, managing every­thing, managing my bills, my c­ hildren. Um, you know, I wish I had—­I need, actually I need about at least fifteen more hours per week [laughs].” Faith was in the last semester of her bachelor’s degree program at a local state university. She was working full time in her field as she finished school. When I asked her about what survival meant to her, she said: You know, it’s, it’s—­it’s ­really difficult for me to be honest, you know, being a parent, being a single parent trying to juggle all ­these t­ hings. When I’m at school I ­don’t ­really feel like much of a student. I feel like someone on a mission. You know what I mean? I d­ on’t have the same mentality . . . ​um—­view as some of my fellow students. . . . ​­They’re ­there learning, just ­doing what they

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need to do. But me, I need to be on point, I have to plan t­ hings out. I have ­limited time to try to figure out what I’m g­ oing to do, how I’m g­ oing to do it. And you know sometimes I ­can’t even give my all, my 100 ­percent, ­because I ­don’t have the time. So sometimes I have to just deal with just getting by ­because, you know, if you d­ on’t have the time to get an A paper, but you have the ability, but you might not have the time, so you might have to just ­settle with a B or C+ paper. . . . ​So then, that’s hard, too. . . . ​I have to look at my own life, and I c­ an’t just compare myself to ­others ­because t­ hey’re not on my level and I’m not on theirs. So I have to try and keep that in mind. Yeah, but then it’s hard.

In response, I prompted her with the same question that I had asked every­one in the first round of interviews: “What does your education mean to you?” Faith replied: “It means being able to survive—­basically, that’s how I view it. You know, it’s not about status, ­really, to me. Although that may come along with it, but, that’s not even how I view it. I view it as my key to survival. That’s basically how I view it, to sum it [up].” This differed from her answer in 2006, when she had said that her education meant “every­thing, ­because my education is basically my passport to financial freedom and knowledge, so the learning ­doesn’t stop. You have to keep learning.” As Faith illustrates, an evolution in the meaning of their education was common for the m ­ others I interviewed for this research. In 2006, most of the m ­ others w ­ ere at the beginning of their educational journey, and the national economy was in much better shape—so they articulated more optimistic views of what their education meant to them. By 2008, when they ­were farther along in their journeys and the national economy was in a deep recession, the meaning of their education had evolved to include more strug­gle, realism, and sometimes fear. They also discussed how their education had become something that “no one could take away” from them. The ­women in this study had experienced many traumas in their lives, but they kept fighting for their and their ­children’s ­futures. As Faith put it, she had found joy and relief in “just knowing what I’ve accomplished, that I’ve overcome, and that I’m still moving forward and making pro­gress. It might not be as fast as I[‘d] like it to be, but, I know that, you know, I’ve set a path, I’ve accomplished some of ­those goals along the way, and I believe that as long as I’m breathing and I have my health and my sanity I w ­ ill complete the goals I set forth.” Fi­nally, when I interviewed her in August 2008, Jane lit up when she spoke about her job and how much she was making. I asked her how and when she found her current job. She told me: When I was still in the CalWORKs [California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids] program I started working as a nanny, and, um, it was

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good. I missed—­I wanted something, more hours and stuff like that. So I started looking online, and I found the position, ’cause I had all my ECE units and my AA degree, they w ­ ere like, “Oh, you qualify for the position of a coteacher.” So then I started ­there as a coteacher, and then last year I was promoted to head teacher. So I’ve been t­ here—­God, it w ­ asn’t last February, it was the February before that. So I’ve been t­ here almost two years. . . . ​I’m glad I ­really invested in taking all of t­ hose ECE units. That took me to a higher level where I ­wouldn’t have been if I ­hadn’t taken ­those units while I was trying to finish up my AA. . . . ​I’m a head teacher at a preschool in Pleasanton. So I run a classroom of fifteen kids, and I have an aide.

However, Jane explained that despite earning her AA degree, getting a career-­ track job, and living at home with her parents, she was still struggling. Her biggest strug­gle, like most m ­ others in this study and most Americans during the recession, was with money: But ­isn’t that a strug­gle for anyone [laughs]? I ­don’t feel alone in that ­battle right now. Um, the biggest one would be money. . . . ​At my job, we always talk about t­ hings we can work on and stuff. So my—­our principal of our school always says, “If only I . . .” and then, you know. And a lot of our “If onlys—­and I say, “If only I had more money, I could join a gym. If only I had more money I could, you know, do t­ hese ­things.” So I think my biggest strug­gle right now is getting more financially stable. That’s every­thing ­else. I mean, I have a good job. I have good hours. I have a good d­ aughter. I have a good f­ amily. My parents are super supportive, and I—­I ­can’t complain. I feel like I’m blessed. You know, ­there’s p­ eople that are way worse off than I am. They ­don’t have a place to live. Stuff like that.

Her narrative illustrated her hopes of earning more in her job, having a better ­future, and one day earning a bachelor’s degree. However, her fears, while more subtle, w ­ ere still pre­sent. She feared what would happen if she d­ idn’t have her parents to help her, she feared further changes in the economy that might affect her job, and she feared ­going back on welfare. Most of the m ­ others I interviewed echoed the sentiments expressed by Jane, Faith, and Betty. Their hopes for a better ­future ­were balanced by their fears of a worse one. Given time-­limited welfare assistance, their fears ­were compounded by the fact that the safety net was in tatters. Many reached their time limit on welfare during this research, so that cash welfare benefits ­were no longer available if they needed them. The ­women feared being poor without a job or a safety net. This created deep anxiety in almost every­one I interviewed.

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Activism and Po­liti­cal Engagement during the G ­ reat Recession Finishing college was a pivotal moment for many m ­ others in terms of their po­liti­cal engagement and involvement in grassroots activism. In addition, the 2008 elections sparked hope and interest in mainstream politics. In this section, I address how ­mothers’ involvement in activism and with LIFETIME changed ­after their graduation, and how the ­mothers participated in their communities and in activism a­ fter earning their degrees. I also address their views on the 2008 election. The participants’ engagement with activist organ­izations during college had increased their awareness of po­liti­cal issues and the likelihood of their paying attention to local and national issues. What’s more, their experiences in grassroots activism had increased their social capital in the l­ abor market. During the 2006 interviews, two m ­ others cited their graduation as a time when their grassroots activism and involvement with LIFETIME shifted. Therefore, when I conducted follow-up interviews in 2008, I asked participants specifically about this issue. Nancy had just completed her associate’s degree when I first met her in 2006. She had learned about LIFETIME through her community college and become a member of the organ­ization while she was a student, participating in the Individual Development Account (IDA) program that LIFETIME facilitated in 2006. Nancy explained: “I’m a member, and I’ve been g­ oing to the membership planning committees. And I like that ­because when I go ­there, just the fact that ­there are other ­women in my situation—­it’s almost like a support group for me. Knowing that okay, I’m not the only one in this situation. Also they educate me as to what’s g­ oing on, and I still want to know what’s ­going on with CalWORKs recipients. . . . ​­Because I know that ­there’s g­ oing to be Latinas g­ oing on the welfare system, and how are we g­ oing to support them? So I want to know what’s ­going on.” She said that she had been through LIFETIME’s activist training: “I went to the summit, which was amazing . . . ​they had a lot of good speakers t­ here. . . . ​A nd t­ here was a lot of empowerment at that summit. It is so cool. I am a member. E ­ very ­woman should go to that. ­Every ­woman that’s on support ser­vices should go to that, just so they know and have a sense of empowerment!” However, ­a fter Nancy completed her degree, she started working in her field and ­stopped participating in the organ­ization. Her activism and community engagement did not stop, just her involvement with LIFETIME. She used the skills, knowledge, and consciousness that she had gained through her work with LIFETIME in her ­career in community health and in her engagement with her community on social issues. For Marie, the converse was true: her involvement with the organ­ization increased a­ fter she graduated, though it was connected to her job. When she was on welfare she did not feel that she needed LIFETIME’s support, although

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she was aware of the organ­ization and participated in some of its campus workshops. ­A fter she began working with low-­income parents at a community college, she became interested in getting more involved. Marie explained how her participation evolved: I was living with my parents, it was a l­ ittle bit easier for me [than] it is for a lot of p­ eople. But I did use LIFETIME, they came and spoke, it was a—­I was part of the CARE program at [her community college]. And, um, b­ ecause you ­can’t have spring break or Christmas break, what­ever, when ­you’re in the CalWORKs program, b­ ecause you still have to complete your work participation hours during that time, [the director of the community college CARE program] would always have like a retreat for us. And s­ he’d have workshops and dif­fer­ent fun stuff for us to do. And one of the workshops was [name of a parent leader] from LIFETIME [who] came and spoke to us. So I was a l­ ittle bit involved with LIFETIME at that time. . . . ​[I] did the IDA program. Yeah, we attended the meetings, and I did one day of volunteer work with [LIFETIME], and I wish I could have done more. I have so much admiration for [LIFETIME’s director] and the organ­ization. You know, her being a welfare mom—to me she’s a pioneer fighting for her rights. I have a lot of admiration and re­spect for her.

Although Marie never attended one of the parent leadership trainings while in college, she looked into the organ­ization’s leadership trainings to help her with her new job as an advocate in the welfare office at the community college. Her interest in LIFETIME’s po­liti­cal work stemmed from both her lived experiences and the work that she did through her job e­ very day. As both of t­ hese ­mothers’ narratives illustrate, when they graduated their involvement in LIFETIME’s po­liti­cal activities changed. Many of the w ­ omen in this study pursued degrees and ­careers in fields in which they could apply the knowledge that they learned through the grassroots organ­ization and thus could stay professionally engaged in advocacy or po­liti­cal work. In that sense, many of the ­mothers (such as Twitch, Lele J., and Phoebe) remained active in grassroots politics and social welfare advocacy work ­a fter graduating, even though that work was no longer necessarily done through LIFETIME. However, some m ­ others’ direct involvement with the organ­ization decreased a­ fter graduation. This could be in part an unintended consequence of LIFETIME’s organ­izing strategy: bringing parents in to solve their individual prob­lems with the welfare system and then engaging them in po­liti­cal work to change the welfare system. A ­ fter graduating, the m ­ others may have felt that they no longer needed this support and as a result became less engaged. Also, a­ fter graduating many of the ­women ­were working part-­or full time and, understandably, ­were less involved with their college campuses. All of the ­women expressed concerns

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about a lack of time for themselves, their families, and other activities, like community involvement. Therefore, their engagement with LIFETIME, activism, or community engagement decreased as they began to prioritize the relationships and activities they had sacrificed to complete school. The ­mothers who ­were involved in LIFETIME or activist activities nonetheless spoke positively about their experiences with the organ­ization and the impact it had on their f­ uture. When I asked Betty about LIFETIME again in 2008, she was very direct: “It meant a lot. I have to say it was just so empowering, you know. I mean, I felt like we ­were this group of ­people, and we ­were reaching out, and we ­were all in this strug­gle together to build this platform, to make ­things better, and to lead the way for ­others to follow in the footsteps. Every­body says it, but practice what you preach is what I always say. . . . ​[E]ducation is the best way to get out of poverty, but no one r­ eally does anything about it. And I think that LIFETIME ­really does try to do that, and that’s what we w ­ ere able to do.” But when I asked if she was involved in activist activities or social change then, she answered, “Not now. I would r­ eally like to be. I have been thinking about that lately. I feel like I need to be involved in something and ­doing something, but I ­haven’t found the right t­ hing I want to do. I would like to be d­ oing something with LIFETIME or somehow trying to be able to still advocate for ­people on welfare to go to school. Maybe you can help me with that? But I would like to do that—­share my story, go to the state capitol and talk to p­ eople. But sometimes I feel like I would like to do that, but maybe not necessarily ­under LIFETIME’s wing all the time.” Faith expressed basically the same sentiment but ­really stressed the time component: “Well, I’m not involved a w ­ hole lot. At first—­when I first started out, I was involved a lot. I was involved with LIFETIME and stuff, and also—­I also was involved with [another organ­ization]. But, um, since I ­don’t have enough hours to ­really do my own, you know, stuff, I ­don’t have a lot of time. I ­don’t hardly have time for myself. But, you know, like I said, I know . . . ​that’s not gonna be forever, so I’m motivated to keep ­doing it.” Faith emphasized how the activist training and empowerment workshops had helped her achieve her goals: It r­ eally empowered me to even, um, pursue even bigger dreams and aspirations when I was ­there. It ­really felt good, it was a r­ eally enriching ­thing, [an] enriching experience to be able to help o­ thers as well. That was the most rewarding part of it, you know. And you c­ an’t ­really put a price tag on that, so, you know, that is an experience that I’ll never forget, you know. I’ll always . . . ​ try to support LIFETIME, you know. Hopefully maybe one day I can support it on an even bigger scale-­level, if I can, you know, when I get ­there. But, um, I’d

Hope and Fear during the ­Great Recession  •  139

like to see it flourish and continue to grow and to reach out to all p­ eople. I am inspired by them, too, ’cause I think, it’s r­ eally—­you know, it’s r­ eally a lot of the ­people that come through t­ here, that are involved in it, have a real, um, enriching experience. . . . ​I think that helps when you have a foundation like that, you know. B ­ ecause it’s not just ­people who ­don’t have the experience, or, I mean not just the experience, you know—­the life experience of g­ oing through certain t­ hings. So I mean they understand you on another level, t­ hey’re just sympathizing with you, you know. It’s like they r­ eally know what y­ ou’re ­going through, you know, try to support you and empower you to deal with it. And that’s a real unique t­ hing, yeah.”

The empowerment and activist trainings that Faith participated in at LIFETIME clearly contributed to her sense of determination and strength through adversity. As her narrative continued, Faith expounded on her determination to finish school and get her ­family off welfare and out of poverty: “Well, I want them to know that all that I’ve been through, I’m still not gonna let anything break me down. And even when I thought I was at the lowest point, I still picked myself back up, and, um, I feel that that’s impor­tant for me—to be an example not only for my ­children and ­family, but to o­ thers who strug­gle.” The impact of involvement with LIFETIME or other activists groups was empowering for the ­women even a­ fter they ­were no longer involved. The ­women who participated in the empowerment trainings or parent leadership activities discussed how ­doing so gave them strength and an increased sense of support, knowledge that they “­weren’t alone,” and a lens through which to critique the way welfare policy intentionally shamed and blamed them for their poverty. Moreover, it also helped w ­ omen in the ­labor market. They built social and cultural capital through their involvement in LIFETIME and other local grassroots advocacy. The skills they learned, the social networks they developed, the new experiences they had with government and other social institutions, and their sense of empowerment all aided the ­women when they sought jobs and built their c­ areers. This finding was similar to the social and cultural capital that Kerry Woodward discusses in her book about welfare-­reliant w ­ omen in a neighboring county, Contra Costa County. The ­women in Woodward’s research participated in “job club” at a local welfare office, and the counselors ­there worked on empowering the w ­ omen and helped them develop cultural and social capital to get ahead in the ­labor market.16 My study, like Woodward’s, found that empowerment helped ­women get ahead in the l­ abor market. Fi­nally, during the second round of interviews I asked the ­women about the 2008 elections. Most ­were registered to vote and enthusiastically discussed their intention to do so in the November 2008 presidential election. Jane’s response was quite common:

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I definitely am registered to vote. And I’m wanting to make a change on the state of the world in general . . . ​and I w ­ ill be voting in November. Even if I have to take the day off of work, what­ever the case is. But I—we always get to go and vote and every­thing. So yeah, I’m so excited. . . . ​A nd I’m definitely excited about this election ­because I mean we have a ­woman ­running, which is absolutely amazing, and we have a black man r­ unning, which is absolutely amazing. And so I think it’s like the best. I mean, my God! It’s the best t­ hing ever, right now! Like, this is gonna start us in changing, you know, our world as we know it!

She continued to express her enthusiasm about the diversity of candidates ­running: Just that a w ­ oman ran! I mean, God only knows how many doors that’s gonna open. I think that r­ eally gave some w ­ omen just like a ­little bit of confidence, like, “My God, she’s actually d­ oing it! ­W hether she’s right or wrong or, you ­don’t agree with, or not, she’s actually ­r unning for president. You know, a ­woman!” So I thought that was amazing . . . ​it’s impor­tant now, right now ­because—­because our economy and every­thing is so—­I mean, I was younger before, so I ­don’t know how bad it is, but for me right now, I know that it’s bad and it scares me for my child’s f­ uture. B ­ ecause we—we ­can’t fix this tomorrow. Even when we do get a new president it’s gonna take a while to get us back. I mean, we, and it—to me, if we keep g­ oing down the route w ­ e’re g­ oing, ­we’re looking at something r­ eally bad happening. I like told my Mom the other day, I’m like, “I’m ready to pack and move to Canada.” I’m like, “I’m gone.” I mean, it’s something that sometimes I r­ eally think about it. And I’m like, “Wow, if we ­don’t—if ­people ­don’t open their eyes”—­I mean, ­there’s p­ eople out ­there, of course a lot of ­people with money that ­don’t even ­really care, they ­don’t feel like it affects them. But to me, a working-­class person, it r­ eally affects my ­family and my friends, and the ­people around me, the p­ eople that I know. And it worries me that if we d­ on’t . . . ​—­I tell my friends, “Listen, ­don’t whine and cry if you guys ­a ren’t [voting].” I’m like, “every­body’s gotta vote. You gotta change this, you gotta change it.” We—oh, my God! It’s nerve-­racking!

The 2008 elections played an impor­tant role in the ­women’s transition from college to work: it engaged them in politics and energized them po­liti­cally. ­After eight years of a conservative president, the ­women hoped that Obama could understand their lives better than his pre­de­ces­sor had. Furthermore, for the ­women who had been involved in grassroots activism, this was often the first time that they w ­ ere hopeful about and positively engaged with mainstream politics.

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All of the w ­ omen in this round of interviews expressed hope and excitement about the election that cannot be understated. They ­were looking forward to voting and watching election-­night coverage. They felt empowered to participate in the election through voting and encouraging their friends and f­ amily to vote as well. A few w ­ ere working on po­liti­cal campaigns or making phone calls for candidates. They felt connected to the ­people ­running in a way that they had not been before. Several mentioned Obama’s background in grassroots organ­izing. A few mentioned the fact that his ­mother was a single mom and had received food stamps when he was a child. Every­one mentioned his race and how inspiring it was to see a black man ­running for president.

Creating Policy Together In addition to their engagement in and perspectives about the 2008 election, I asked all the participants about their ideas for specific social policy changes. Although the m ­ others individually provided many ideas for policy changes, having conversations with small groups of the m ­ others provided additional insight into policy ideas. As part of this proj­ect, a­ fter the first round of individual interviews but before the second round discussed above, I de­cided to add three focus groups to this research. In the early summer of 2007, I conducted focus groups with eigh­teen additional ­mothers on welfare—­one group each in Berkeley and San Francisco, at community colleges, and the third with LIFETIME parent leaders. ­These focus groups and participants ­were in addition to the ­women who participated in the interviews. Only two ­women participated in both the interviews and the focus groups—­one parent leader at LIFETIME and one m ­ other at the San Francisco community college. One of the strengths of adding the focus groups to this research was to give m ­ others a setting in which they could explore their policy suggestions in a group conversation. I hoped that this collective opportunity would allow w ­ omen to further develop their individual policy suggestions. One of the main advantages of focus groups as a research method is the opportunity it offers to engage in a conversation with several research participants at once. During focus groups, the m ­ others could hear each other’s ideas, agree or disagree with them, and build on them. The energy of a focus group, especially about a controversial topic like welfare policy, creates data that are unique. The focus group guide was the same for all three groups, and it concentrated on the issues of accessing campus and community resources, relationships with caseworkers, developing a social safety net from scratch, and changing the current CalWORKs policy. An in­ter­est­ing shift happened during the focus groups. At the focus groups held at the community colleges, the m ­ others’ conversation focused on two levels: how society can ensure that ­people’s basic needs are meet and how to address local concerns at the county welfare office, like

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t­ hose with caseworkers that ­were discussed above. ­Those conversations lacked a mid-­level emphasis on the structure of the U.S. welfare system and economy. In direct contrast, however, the welfare system was the central ele­ment that the LIFETIME focus group wanted to discuss and the level at which they believed it useful to direct their policy suggestions. The LIFETIME participants talked about basic rights in U.S. society and how U.S. social policies and the economy w ­ ere not designed to provide equal access to ­those rights. At the community college focus groups, the m ­ others emphasized that housing, food, and universal health care needed to be fundamental societal priorities (in any society, not just the United States). ­A fter t­ hose needs w ­ ere met, participants felt that society should focus on access to high-­quality education at all levels, for any member of the society. They talked in very general terms about ­these goals and emphasized that u­ nless basic needs are met, any other effort would be useless. For example, at the Berkeley City College focus group, the conversation about creating a new social safety net started with Cece: CECE:  

I would go—­the first ­thing I’d do would be to make sure that every­body has adequate housing, b­ ecause if you d­ on’t have a place to lay down, you ­really ­can’t focus. You ­can’t focus if ­you’re standing up or t­ here’s nowhere to lay [down]. You c­ an’t concentrate, and your ­whole chemistry is off. ­There’s no foundation. So the first t­ hing I’d make sure that every­one had adequate housing and make sure every­body would have enough food to eat [agreement from the group]. And then I would go from ­there and try and listen to individuals and see what w ­ ere their needs and attend to that. But I would make sure every­body had a comfortable place to stay and enough food to eat and I would build my foundation on that. RENEE:   Housing, food, clothes, you know . . . SHIMARE:   No vio­lence, no killing.

The conversation at the City College of San Francisco went along similar lines, focusing on housing, food, and safety. The ­women w ­ ere adamant about having first to focus on meeting basic needs. Then, in each group, the conversation shifted to what it takes to create a community in which ­people feel safe enough to explore what they need. For example, the City College of San Francisco focus group concluded that, when creating a social safety net from scratch, every­one must have access to housing, food, and ­water (in that order). Then their conversation immediately shifted: MOESHA:  

How do we create a community? Have a big heart, that’s how you start it off—­you’ve got to have a big heart to start a community. If you ­don’t have a big heart and an open mind for ­people to say what they need, then ­there is no community.

Hope and Fear during the ­Great Recession  •  143 T UL I:  

Take away all the corruption in the world [verbal agreement from o­ thers]. That’s what it comes down to, so the rich w ­ on’t get richer and the poor ­won’t get poorer. NICOL E C.:   I think that instead of all of this “out for me and myself, and I’m ­going to get it before you get it”— SE VER AL ­P EOPL E:   Is selfish. NICOL E C.:   And all that “me, me, me” before the “us” or “we” [does not create community].

The m ­ others focused on both immediate personal needs and what it takes to build a community. In this focus group, the ­mothers placed a heavy importance on meeting every­one’s basic needs—­even clarifying what ­those needs are and in what order they should be met. Given the way the conversation evolved, I believe that ­women in this group came from even poorer backgrounds and ­were more recently enrolled in higher education than participants in the other two focus groups. They ­were ­earlier on their journey, and therefore they ­were a ­little more focused on meeting basic needs first than the o­ thers w ­ ere. Yet a­ fter that aspect of the conversation, they turned to more utopian ideals of community than the other groups did. The contrast was notable. However, when I asked them immediately a­ fter this exchange what changes they would make to welfare policy or the CalWORKs system, they shifted dramatically from ­these utopian ideals to specific changes they would make with caseworkers at the local offices. The Berkeley City College student ­mothers suggested smaller caseloads and increased direct access to caseworkers (that is, being given caseworkers’ direct phone numbers instead of having to go through a central switchboard or leave voice mail). ­Women also wanted a system of accountability in the welfare office to ensure that the caseworkers provided a certain level of ser­vice. Along the same lines, the City College of San Francisco student m ­ others suggested client evaluations of their caseworkers, increased access to the transportation assistance the county was supposed to provide, cultural competency training for caseworkers, and having one caseworker for all the systems (for example, CalWORKs, food stamps, housing, and Medi-Cal). I was struck by the disconnect between their policy suggestions and what each group believed was needed to create a safety net from scratch. I thought that a conversation that started with creating new systems would lead to a more systemic analy­sis of current policy and generate suggestions that focused on structural changes. However, that was not what tran­spired at the two community college focus groups. Instead, the two conversations in each of ­these focus groups w ­ ere very disconnected from each other, with one having few implications for the other. In contrast, the LIFETIME group was much more aware and critical of the interplay between social structure and systems of in­equality in creating

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poverty. They ­were even critical of how I framed my questions. When I asked how they would create a social safety net from the ground up, they suggested that society needed to be focused on ­those systems of inequities: T R AC Y:  

The idea of access versus equality—­and one of the ­things that came up for me is that like equality is not actually the t­ hing that w ­ e’re looking for, ­because p­ eople’s needs are not equal. Every­body ­doesn’t need the same ­thing; a single person ­doesn’t need the same ­thing as a person with a child. And so when looking at issues of access, it’s like who are you and what do you need, you know. Who—­what does your f­ amily look like, and what does the ­family need. We ­don’t actually have anything that resembles a f­ ree market. That’s just what p­ eople are talking about, and it gets manipulated. It’s the myth of capitalism, and it’s completely fucked. And so ­people are led to believe this ­thing that’s not r­ eally happening, and t­ hey’re trying to buy into a ­thing that d­ oesn’t ­really exist. Which is the same sort of ­thing as the American Dream—it d­ oesn’t exist, [is] not a t­ hing, [and] mostly it’s not even pos­si­ble. But they want you to believe it so that you keep working in the place that y­ ou’re working in. . . . ​Poverty and malnutrition are a ­matter of policy, not a m ­ atter of resources, and that’s one of the ­things that we ­really need to think about and look at. JADE:   And genocide, right? T R AC Y:   Yeah, vio­lence, genocide. I mean it’s—­poverty is a m ­ atter of policy, it’s intentional, and it’s just a m ­ atter worldwide. JADE:  ­Because when I was homeless and eight years old in this country, it ­didn’t ­matter that “oh, she’s eight.” It d­ idn’t ­matter that I was a child, it was like, “Oh, ­you’re poor, so fuck you, ­you’re homeless.” And that lasted for years, with my mom and my b­ rother sleeping outside. So for me it’s like ­there has to be, um—­there has to be a level where ­things are automatic. You ­shouldn’t have to be like, “fill out thirty-­five forms and then ­we’re ­going to put you on a housing list and then ­we’re ­going to get you housing.” You know, it’s like—no, that’s your automatic right. . . . ​It’s g­ oing to be like every­body has housing h ­ ere, every­body has access to health care, every­body has access to education, every­body has access. Every­body has access. And every­body is a participant. ­Because t­ here’s a difference to being a player and being a participant. And being a participant or a player is dif­fer­ent. So it’s like—in other words, if you are a youth and you get arrested and you go through the juvenile system, you are participating in that, right? But you ­aren’t making shit, ­you’re getting pimped. Every­one e­ lse is making money off of it. The arresting officer’s making money, the parole officer, the judge, the l­ awyer—­every­body’s getting paid but you, so ­they’re the players and ­you’re the participant. And what every­body—in order to make this work,

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every­body’s got to be a player ­because every­body’s got a stake in this. . . . ​ ­There’s conditioning that happens, ghettoization, lifestyle where you become criminalized. But when y­ ou’re in an environment when ­you’re not ­under criminalization, then it’s less likely in terms of—in other words, if you promote and support healthy be­hav­ior, y­ ou’re ­going to get healthy be­hav­ior. What you invest ­will manifest. California’s number one [of the states] in prison system, so of course, every­body’s getting incarcerated. It’s forty-­third in education, so what does that say? Th ­ ey’re investing in ­people to be put in prison, that’s why they look at third graders’ testing scores and determine how many beds to put in the prison system. So knowing that criminalization is happening, we would need to create an environment where ­people are not being criminalized and penalized for a lifestyle that they c­ an’t help but live ­because the environment created that lifestyle. . . . ​I want to rewrite the ­whole welfare system. I want to write a law that is ­going to actually eliminate poverty—­not criminalize p­ eople living in poverty, but that’s actually g­ oing to eliminate poverty. But see, if poverty’s eliminated, that takes down capitalism. . . . ​We live in a society that was built on racism and classism and all the fucking shit you want to name, you know what I’m saying? We live in a society that is very classist, we also live in a society where white supremacy created skin privilege, so all of t­ hese ­things in this society can cause a lot of barriers. And it’s g­ oing to cause a lot of obstacles, so even though ­there’s this fucking American Dream that you get sold—if you do every­thing right, go to school, go to high school, do every­thing properly, go to college, and y­ ou’re just ­going to live a ­great life—it ­don’t happen like that.

As the se­lection from the LIFETIME focus group’s discussion illustrates, through the m ­ others’ work with LIFETIME and other social justice movements, their critique of the social structure had become very pronounced. Jade acknowledged that she had been “sold” the American Dream, which she bought into u­ ntil she realized that her life experiences w ­ ere not congruent with the ideology ­behind it. From this oppositional consciousness, as discussed in chapter 3, dif­fer­ent perspectives on policy emerged. The ­mothers in the LIFETIME focus group did not buy the reformed American Dream. They did not want the welfare system reformed again. They suggested that the ­whole economic system be reevaluated and the institutional “isms” be addressed. They wanted to fight capitalism, racism, classism, and sexism. They fought for social justice through their work at LIFETIME and in their everyday lives, and they w ­ ere not shy about engaging in critical discussions in the focus group.

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Conclusion In 2007 and 2008, the American economy was in a downward spiral, and many ­people, like the w ­ omen in this research, w ­ ere fearful about the recession. The ­mothers in this study w ­ ere at a transition point in their lives. They had completed or w ­ ere about to complete their higher education, but they w ­ ere trying to find jobs and build c­ areers while unemployment was rapidly rising. Their welfare time clocks ­were ticking; therefore, they had ­little access to welfare or other social safety net aid during their transitions from school to work. They worried about having enough money, finishing their education, and providing for their kids. However, at this time most Americans ­were openly worried about ­these. Yet the 2008 election brought hope to their narratives. Obama’s r­ unning for president was discussed with enthusiasm, hope, anticipation, and energy. The fact that part of his narrative was his ­mother’s receipt of food stamps gave several ­women hope that, when it came to issues of poverty and public assistance, he would “get it.” He spoke openly about social justice and social issues in a way that resonated with the ­women. He was known for his work with domestic vio­lence survivors. Their enthusiasm about the 2008 election was obvious during our interviews. The w ­ omen featured in this chapter expressed the profound tensions of this time. The w ­ omen w ­ ere trying their best to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and complete higher education so they could find jobs that would support their ­children, build their ­careers, and get them off public assistance. Their fear that their hard-­won education was not enough to move them up eco­nom­ ically shows through their narratives of worrying about money, the economy, and the ­future. Yet they ­were hopeful that change was coming. They dared to have a l­ ittle hope in national politics as a solution to personal prob­lems. In the next chapter, their narratives about the recession continue in interviews I conducted with the participants in 2011. Some, but not all, of the ­mothers’ strug­gle to be upwardly mobile was successful. The economy improved, but the country’s safety net was still shredded. The American Dream remains an elusive goal ­a fter the G ­ reat Recession for more Americans b­ ecause of our reformed social policy choices in the 1990s.

7

Graduating into the ­Great Recession

In the spring of 2011, I sat down with T for another interview. She had graduated in 2010 from San Francisco State University with a bachelor’s degree in social work and was working full time for the San Francisco YMCA coordinating ­family assistance programs. The day we spoke, she was submitting her application for a gradu­ate program in her field: “Well, ­today is the last day for me to apply for a master’s of social work at Cal State [California State University] East Bay [laughs]. And I ­will be turning in my application ­today. So, I’ve been r­ unning around getting letters of recommendation and my transcripts and every­thing so that I could be in that, in their three-­year program—­three years part time. It’s the only three-­year part-­time program that I could find. It’s ­really hard to find a program that would still allow me to go to work.” Her ability to continue her paid work in community social work was vital to her f­ uture c­ areer goals, her sense of self, and her being able to support her f­ amily. She said: “To be in this position in my ­career, to do that professionally and to be in a position where I could do more, that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to be in a position where it was—­where it was in my power to do a ­little bit more.” However, her position was funded by a grant during the G ­ reat Recession1 and did not pay enough to support her ­family. T said, “I’m still a low-­income person. I make $18.50 an hour, so I make about $34,000 a year.” But her full-­time job w ­ asn’t enough to support a ­family in San Francisco. Her job came with health benefits that covered only her, not her ­children. Yet her income was so low compared

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to costs of living in San Francisco that she still qualified for state assistance for her ­children’s health care and her f­ amily’s housing. Since graduating into the G ­ reat Recession, T had been very thankful to have found even this job: “I would say prob­ably the hardest ­thing is just finding jobs. It’s almost—­it’s so hard to find a job. Th ­ ere’s so much competition to find a job. I felt ­really fortunate and ­really blessed to find a job when I graduated from college. I think it was just a m ­ atter of being in the right place at the right time ­because t­ here, I ­can’t even—­all of my classmates right now graduated in 2010, [and] some of them are still unemployed.” Even though her job paid less than a livable wage for her and her f­ amily and had no health benefits for her c­ hildren, she had a job that was building her ­career and at least supporting them during a massive recession. T thought that the recession had not hit her ­family as hard as it had ­others she knew: I was pretty much poor already. So now I’m working poor—­not much dif­fer­ ent. But I could see some of my colleagues, some of my peers who are used to having more and d­ oing more—it was kind of devastating to them. And just for, prob­ably once ever, we ­were all pretty much on the same plane. Pretty even across the board, every­body’s struggling, which I ­don’t think is something that was comfortable all the time. Sometime[s] it’s kind of tense to interact, work with—or even times when you just go out with your friends, it’s a l­ ittle bit stressful. The attitude is kind of dif­fer­ent. I ­don’t think for me. I think mine was pretty even, but [­there was] attitude shifting and [it was] just harder to work with folks. But on the flip side of that, sometimes it made t­ hings better ­because it made all t­ hings become common, or a ­little more common. And I think some p­ eople adjusted well and have a ­little more compassion and empathy and patience or understanding or however you want to word it. ­Because now t­ hey’ve experienced the same t­ hings. Learn how to appreciate a more ­simple life and not take [­things] for granted, and not have a sense of entitlement.

T’s optimism, strength, and courage showed in her interview. She kept her focus on getting her ­career on track, planned for the time when she could pursue her master of social work degree to move ahead in her c­ areer, and took each day at a time. Like her, many other m ­ others in this phase of the research believed that they ­were now part of the working poor. They just hoped that their situation was temporary, just part of the recession. In this chapter, I explore the experiences of low-­income ­mothers who graduated from college, got off welfare, and tried to start their ­careers during and immediately ­a fter the G ­ reat Recession. I show how their experiences can be understood as indicators of workers’ vulnerability in our urban ­labor markets. Through analyzing their experiences, we gain insights into what changes are

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needed in the l­ abor market, to social safety-­net programs, and in our communities if we are to increase economic security for all—­and especially for very vulnerable families.

Final Interviews with Participants in 2011 I conducted a third wave of qualitative interviews for this proj­ect in the spring of 2011. At that time I asked the ­mothers about the impact of the ­Great Recession on their families and their perspectives on their experiences during and immediately ­after the recession. Four themes emerged from participants’ narratives about the recession: some reported that they ­were d­ oing okay but ­were worried; o­ thers w ­ ere stressed about finances and had made significant cuts to their bud­gets; several mentioned that poverty is poverty, and they w ­ ere still poor in a recession; and a few w ­ ere seriously struggling and unsure how they could afford the next meal, rent payment, or necessity. The research participants provide impor­tant insights into the on-­the-­ground experiences of low-­ income and formerly low-­income families during the ­Great Recession. Insights like these could come only from a proj­ect that was in pro­gress when the recession hit. ­Mothers who completed college while on welfare can be viewed as canaries in the coal mine of our urban ­labor markets. I use this frame and meta­phor intentionally. Canaries ­were historically used as a sentinel species, kept in coal mines to provide early warnings of danger. As an idiomatic expression, we use this phrase when referring to situations in which something sensitive may suffer adverse consequences and we can use that sensitivity to warn the rest of the group or society about danger. The m ­ others I interviewed w ­ ere attempting to be upwardly eco­nom­ically mobile by completing college and getting off welfare, both of which are viewed as positive life events. However, they ­were trying to accomplish this during a massive recession. Although many of them had earned a bachelor’s degree, their economic position was still precarious. It could easily be upset by even minor changes in the economy and ­labor market, and the ­women ­were much more likely to be affected than more stable middle-­class families or even other poor families that did not have student loan debt. Changes such as cuts to social ser­vice programs or benefits, increases in consumer or transportation costs, and interest rate changes affected the w ­ omen’s fragile existence. Several national events during this proj­ect—­including the G ­ reat Recession, Barack Obama’s election and presidency, and the Occupy Movement po­liti­cal protests—­increasingly focused media and public attention on social justice and economic in­equality. Growing interest in t­ hese topics attracted new attention to social policy issues such as the economic conditions of working families, access to higher education, and the deteriorating social safety net. Social policies

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to help working families, college students, and se­niors ­were being debated in the early years of the Obama administration. Social policy changes for big banks and Wall Street happened quickly, but policy changes to help individuals struggling financially ­were slow to occur. Therefore, we need to ask how did reformed social safety-­net programs assist low-­income female-­headed families during the recession, how did students who graduated during the recession do in the l­ abor market, and what are the post­recession conditions of American working families? This chapter reflects a new wave of research into the reformed welfare system by taking up ­these questions and exploring how the single ­mothers who pursued college while on welfare and who graduated into the ­labor market of the G ­ reat Recession are bellwethers for t­ hese issues. Since welfare reform in the United States in 1996, ­there have been two waves of welfare-­to-­work research focused on w ­ omen a­ fter they leave welfare for work and the conditions of that work. I would argue that by 2011 we had entered a third wave of research a­ fter welfare reform—­research that asks what happened to w ­ omen who left welfare for work in the G ­ reat Recession. As noted in chapter 1, in the first wave of research a­ fter welfare reform, studies focused on the w ­ omen who left welfare for work, and ­were characterized as “leaver” studies by many researchers.2 Many of t­ hose studies focused on how welfare participants left the welfare rolls but did not necessarily leave poverty.3 However, in the second wave of research ­after welfare reform, as Susan Lambert calls it, studies paid attention to the quality of life of low-­income families ­after leaving welfare for work and to the psychological well-­being of t­ hose families. Th ­ ese studies concluded that “employment in the United States is not a reliable route out of poverty.”4 By the start of the recession, many low-­income single ­mothers had exhausted their lifetime limits on aid. As the country entered the biggest economic downturn since the G ­ reat Depression, we had high levels of national unemployment and l­ittle to no social safety-­net aid available to workers who had exhausted their time limits since welfare reform was implemented. As researchers, we should ask, what happens to families that time off welfare? Research about the G ­ reat Recession suggests that its social and cultural costs of the recession need further exploration, especially to determine if already disadvantaged groups disproportionately experienced ­those costs.5 ­These social costs include unemployment, decreased access to higher education, loss of income, foreclosures or homelessness, and social despair. Quantitative research indicates that college graduation benefits t­ hose from more disadvantaged backgrounds the most.6 Also, U.S. Census Bureau research has found that during the recession, workers with a bachelor’s degree had lower unemployment rates and higher incomes than ­those without a college degree.7 Nevertheless, the ­Great Recession left w ­ omen, especially single m ­ others, more eco­nom­ically vulnerable than men.8 The existing research finds that higher education for ­women on welfare has positive returns in the ­labor market and leads to increased

Graduating into the ­Great Recession  •  151

wages and employment opportunities, usually resulting in economic self-­ sufficiency and upward mobility.9 However, what happened to t­hose who graduated during the ­Great Recession? The findings of this research reveal which characteristics increased or reduced ­mothers’ chances in the ­labor market and their ability to provide for their families. I found five primary characteristics that increased and eight characteristics that decreased ­women’s experiences and economic position a­ fter leaving welfare and higher education. The characteristics are not individual failings but instead show how the social safety net has been shredded in recent years. Changes in federal and state social policies drastically ­limited w ­ omen’s opportunities and economic trajectories, and our focus should be on how ­those changes, rather than individual choices, ­were key to ­women’s experiences. Among the characteristics that increased ­women’s chances and their upward mobility w ­ ere earning a bachelor’s or higher-­level degree, having access to and full use of supportive transitional ser­vices, and receiving college or university support ser­vices. The w ­ omen I interviewed ­were not the only pos­si­ble canaries in the l­abor market. However, their position was unique and provided insights into the experiences of several groups at once, including low-­income workers, single working ­mothers, welfare-­to-­work participants, recent college gradu­ates, and workers dealing with disability or ­family care issues. Therefore, we can use their experiences to discuss the conditions of work for low-­wage workers, in the reformed safety net, and in the job market for recent college gradu­ates to suggest policy changes.

The Impact of the G ­ reat Recession As Jeff Hayes and Heidi Hartmann found, the ­women’s recession “started ­later than men’s and their economic recovery has also begun ­later and has been much more anemic then men’s recovery.” Furthermore, the authors found that “­women report more hunger, more difficulty paying bills or affording health care, and more inability to meet their c­ hildren’s needs.”10 Although sectors of the economy ­were showing growth, the U.S. unemployment rate was still over 9 ­percent in 2011.11 Workers fared differently in the recession according to educational level and race or ethnicity, as well as gender. According to Michael Hout, Asaf Levanon and Erin Cumberworth, “the risk of being unemployed declines sharply as education rises,” and although unemployment rates ­rose more or less proportionately for each educational category, the “proportional increases raised unemployment most for the least-­educated and least for the most-­educated.”12 Furthermore, the U.S. Census Bureau found that workers who had bachelor’s degrees did better in e­ very month during the recession than workers with less education. For example, for workers without a high-­school

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degree unemployment in February 2010 was at 17.9 ­percent, but in the same month, unemployment for workers with a bachelor’s degree was only 5.9 ­percent.13 Wages also differed considerably during this time, and workers with a bachelor’s degree had median earnings ($47,510) of approximately $20,000 a year more than workers who had only earned a high-­school diploma ($26,776) or workers who had earned a GED ($22,534).14 In addition, African American workers had substantially higher unemployment rates than workers of other races or ethnicities.15 Although a college education helped mitigate this somewhat, returns to investment in higher levels of education had the least effect for African American workers, and white and Asian workers with a college degree had twice the protection against unemployment than African Americans with the same level of education.16 The U.S. economy suffered ongoing effects of the ­Great Recession, and job recovery was slow. Poverty rates r­ ose in three consecutive years and w ­ ere at 15 ­percent for 2011.17 Research in the years a­ fter welfare reform implementation has found that even when low-­income families are working, they are not making enough to survive eco­nom­ically, much less climb the economic ladder.18 Approximately 10.5 million adults in 2011 w ­ ere among the working poor.19 The number of adults in the United States who w ­ ere working but still poor almost doubled from 2000 to 2010.20 In 2011, the United States had the highest proportion of working poor and the highest degree of income in­equality of any country that belonged to the Organisation for Economic Co-­operation and Development.21

The Status of the ­Mothers in 2011 In the spring of 2011, I conducted follow-up interviews with thirty-­five of the original forty-­five participants from 2006. During the 2011 interviews, the primary areas of inquiry included what level of education the ­mothers had completed in the five years since the proj­ect started, what their employment status was, and if they w ­ ere still receiving any public assistance. T ­ able 7.1 shows the ­Table 7.1

Research Participants’ Degrees Degree

Associate’s Bachelor’s Master’s Dropped out Total

Pursuing in 2006

Highest completed in 2011

60% (27) 33% (15) 7% (3) NA 100% (45)

29% (10) 54% (19) 11% (4) 6% (2) 100% (35)

NO T E: NA is not applicable.

Graduating into the ­Great Recession  •  153 70%

60%

50% Working full time 40%

Working part time Further education

30%

Unemployed 20%

10%

0% Associate’s degree (n = 12)

Bachelor’s degree (n = 19)

Master’s degree (n = 4)

FIG. 7.1  ​Education achieved and employment status, 2011

degrees that participants w ­ ere pursuing in 2006 and the highest degrees they had completed by the spring of 2011. Over two-­thirds of the participants who had earned bachelor’s degrees w ­ ere working full time in 2011, and another 10 ­percent w ­ ere working part time. Half of ­those who had earned master’s degrees w ­ ere working full time, and the other half ­were working part time. However, two ­mothers in the latter category ­were only working part time ­because they ­were the primary caregivers for disabled ­children and thus could not work full time. About a third of the participants who had earned an associate’s degree w ­ ere working full time, another third w ­ ere working part time, and approximately a quarter ­were still in school. The educational status of the participants is charted versus their employment status in figure 7.1. For the ­women who had earned bachelor’s degrees, ­these percentages sum to more than 100 b­ ecause a handful of the participants w ­ ere both working (full-­or part time) and pursuing their master’s degree part time.

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60%

50% Food stamps 40%

Medi-Cal Housing

30%

SSI Unemployment

20%

CalWORKs 10%

0% Associate’s degree (n = 12)

Bachelor’s degree (n = 19)

Master’s degree (n = 4)

FIG. 7.2  ​Education achieved and public assistance receipt, 2011

In 2006, when the research proj­ect began, all participants ­were on California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs) and food stamps and enrolled in higher education. Many also received other forms of aid, such as housing assistance, medical coverage through Medi-Cal, or Supplemental Security Income (SSI). However, by 2011 most participants w ­ ere working and had graduated from the degree program in which they w ­ ere enrolled in 2006, with some continuing their education (for example, they had earned an associate’s degree and ­were now enrolled in a bachelor’s degree program). Most had also exhausted their sixty-­month limit on welfare and w ­ ere ineligible for aid for the rest of their lives. At that time, California would remove only the adult from aid, and the ­children in the f­ amily would be eligible for a child-­only welfare grant. However, very few of the participants w ­ ere on child-­only grants in 2011. As illustrated in figure 7.2, the m ­ others at all three levels of education ­were participating in very few aid programs. In most cases, this was ­because they w ­ ere no longer eligible for the programs ­because their wages w ­ ere too high. However, in a ­couple of cases such as CalWORKs or unemployment insurance, a few of the m ­ others desperately needed the assistance but w ­ ere no longer eligible due to time limits. As discussed above, two of the m ­ others who had earned a master’s degree had disabled ­children for whom they cared full time. Due to the ­children’s disabilities, ­those m ­ others and their ­children w ­ ere eligible for food stamps, SSI,

Graduating into the ­Great Recession  •  155

or Medi-Cal. Since this is a qualitative study that focused on associate’s and bachelor’s degree levels of education for low-­income single ­mothers and the sample size at the master’s degree level is small, the cases of the two disabled ­children make charting the data numerically a ­little misleading. In a larger study, I would expect to find ­women who had earned master’s degrees to be ­doing well eco­nom­ically and moving into the m ­ iddle class. The experiences of ­these two families illustrate the need for supportive social ser­vice programs when families are coping with major disabilities. ­These two ­mothers ­were smart, motivated w ­ omen who cared for their c­ hildren, worked as many hours a week as they could, used the social support programs they ­were eligible for, and w ­ ere surviving financially. They w ­ eren’t comfortably ­middle class, but they both had stable living situations and good income from their part-­time jobs, and they reported being able to pay their bills each month. Yet they both worried intensively about unexpected medical or physical therapy bills. As Regina Baker and Linda Burton found, ­mothers with disabled c­ hildren seek “good” jobs like other poor ­women, but their c­ areers aspirations are carefully balanced by their caregiving responsibilities—­meaning that a “good” job is especially impor­tant.22

Experiences and Perspectives during the G ­ reat Recession The recession had a tremendous impact on the families in this research. The financial impact was mostly negative, but many of the ­mothers also discussed the positive lessons they learned during this time. Although economists claim that the recession ended in June 2009, participants had not yet felt that recovery in the spring of 2011. Thomas Kochan has found that “many workers still felt left out of the economic recession recovery efforts,” and the m ­ others in my study ­were no exception.23 The ­Great Recession was financially hardest for ­mothers without bachelor’s degrees. Several ­women lost jobs or ­were unable to find employment a­ fter graduating. Even though t­ hese participants’ income might have qualified them for CalWORKs, they had already reached their sixty-­month lifetime limit and ­were left with no support. In contrast, employed participants felt that their education or degree was instrumental in their keeping their jobs during the recession. Four main themes emerged from my asking the ­mothers how their families fared during and immediately ­after the recession: ­doing okay, but worried; made significant cuts, but surviving; poverty is poverty, even in a recession; and I’m ­going through hell. While the ­mothers may have articulated more than one of ­these themes during their interviews, I or­ga­nized them into the groups discussed below based on the general picture of their economic situation combined with their assessment of their situation. Overall, ­these themes express participants’ concerns about trying to move up into the ­middle class, being working poor without a safety net, or sliding into ever-­deepening poverty. Therefore, in this discussion I pursue two objectives:

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to explore the w ­ omen’s experiences in the recession and to understand how their experiences are linked to broader structural issues in our economy and social policies. Therefore, the characteristics discussed below are not individual failings but provide insights into how our economy and social policies fail low-­ income families.

Group 1: ­Doing Okay, but Worried The theme that emerged from the first group of ­mothers’ responses was that generally they w ­ ere d­ oing okay but w ­ ere worried about their finances. The ­mothers conveyed how they had to balance making ends meet and planning for the ­future. Families in this group ­were making ends meet, and some ­were slowly paying down their debts, but most w ­ ere not making enough in the recession to get ahead. Many ­women discussed cutting back on nonessentials so they could pay their essential bills mostly on time. For example, Daria, a white ­mother of one, said: The recession sucks basically . . . ​[but] the recession ­didn’t hit us that hard, (a) ­because we moved, and (b) b­ ecause of the financial planning that was offered through my work. They set me up, and I set money aside. And I can take a loan against myself, which is how we ended up moving. So the financial planning through my work allowed us to move, which saved us from the ­really big impact of the recession. . . . ​I think it r­ eally hit my husband. With the recession, um, he was working in construction and the construction place just went; it took a major dive. He was unemployed for part of the last two years. Um, the unemployment helped with that; me d­ oing extra consulting work on the side helped, um, with that; and me having an education and a background in my field ­really helped kind of float us. And now he just changed jobs as well. About two or three months ago, he got out of the construction trade, and he’s ­going to be d­ oing networking for Comcast. . . . ​A nd they are offering to pay him to go and get his BA.

Daria’s answer was typical of participants who had earned a bachelor’s degree and ­were working. She was earning a livable wage and was in a relationship that, also typically, had two incomes. Although her husband had lost his job during the recession, they had made changes, such as moving to a cheaper area, to financially survive the recession. Along similar lines, Courtney, who had earned an associate’s degree, explained: “I think it [the recession] has an impact on every­ one’s life and our life specifically. I want to say yes, but I cannot tell you that we are ­going through hard times. Like, um, my bills are paid, you know. I’m not ­behind on anything. Um, again I just feel the grace of God upon us is why ­we’re not necessarily feeling the major impact, and some are, you know. . . . ​So yeah, it has—­but I ­wouldn’t say, prob­ably not nearly as bad as it has been for

Graduating into the ­Great Recession  •  157

some.” Both Daria and Courtney felt the recession’s effects but w ­ ere not in dire straits; both ­were working and able to support their families. However, most ­mothers ­were still paying off student loans and credit card debt accumulated while earning their degrees. As Betty, a m ­ other who had recently earned an MSW, discussed, this debt was more noticeable when money was tight and costs w ­ ere rising: “So it’s expensive. And I mean, it’s affected us in that I have terrible credit card debt. . . . ​Yeah, it’s just you have less of every­ thing with this recession. . . . ​We ­don’t have as much money, we ­don’t get to do a lot of t­ hings that we used to do, and I think that’s kind of how it is for every­ body.” This theme of cutting back, dealing with rising costs, but basically making it was most prevalent among the w ­ omen who had earned bachelor’s degrees while on welfare, like Daria and Betty, but also was expressed by some who had earned associate’s degrees, like Courtney—­who had earned an associate’s degree in nursing and gone on to pursue a bachelor’s degree in a registered nurse program. Their experiences support ­others’ research findings: workers with higher levels of education had higher earnings and lower unemployment during the recession.24 Fourteen of thirty-­five (40 ­percent) study participants could be considered middle-­income or w ­ ere moving steadily in that direction in 2011. While they ­were worried about their finances, like most other middle-­income or middle-­ class families, they paid monthly bills on time, w ­ ere paying off debts, and earned a livable wage. Many had benefits such as health insurance and paid time off. Almost three-­quarters of the fourteen ­women in this category had earned ­either an associate’s (two) or a bachelor’s degree (five) in a field with technical training or a certificate (nursing, accounting, education, or community health) or earned more than a bachelor’s degree (three)—­for example, a master’s degree or master’s teaching credential. Therefore, a clear link exists between the educational level completed and their current economic status and sense of economic well-­being. The remaining four ­women in this category had all earned bachelor’s degrees and had longevity and advancement at the organ­ ization where they worked, as well as benefits such as health insurance and paid time off. Within this theme, other common characteristics emerged, including having only one or two c­ hildren (all but two participants), and sharing a h ­ ouse­hold (all but three) with another adult wage earner. The other earner was usually a spouse or partner, but one ­woman had her ­father move in with her, two who lived with parents, and one shared expenses with another single parent roommate. White w ­ omen ­were overrepresented in this group (ten of the thirty-­five participants, or 29 ­percent, identified as white), and even more so in this theme (six out of fourteen, or 43 ­percent, w ­ ere white). However, for black or African American ­women or Asian or Pacific Islander ­women, their percentages in the theme w ­ ere similar to t­ hose among the overall study participants: 35 ­percent

158  •  Reformed American Dreams

(five w ­ omen) identified as black or African American in this theme, versus 37 ­percent of the total participants (thirteen), and 7 ­percent (one) identified as Asian or Pacific Islander in this theme, versus 8 ­percent of study participants (three). However, Latina w ­ omen ­were underrepresented in this theme: 14 ­percent (two) identified as Latina, versus 20 ­percent (seven) of the study participants. This suggests that racial in­equality is still substantial, especially with regard to the power of white privilege and to discrimination against Latinas. All of the w ­ omen who attended private colleges w ­ ere in this group, which may indicate how the economic privilege of attending a private university, even as a low-­income person, can have an impact on individuals (for example, through increasing their social capital). The ­women in this group also used transitional support ser­vices optimally. Yet a few m ­ others discussed the precariousness of their employment situation. Jane, an African American ­mother of one who had completed her associate’s degree and was thinking about looking for a higher-­paying job, said: “I thank God it h ­ asn’t hit me in a way as far as my job. I have good job security. The only ­thing where I think it has hit—­I ­won’t look anywhere ­else, I definitely think I can do better, I can make more. But with this kind of economy I am not leaving my job. I would never even think to [do that], and if it happens and you go somewhere e­ lse, if you are the first one in, then you are the first one out. I actually—­I would say it more affected the p­ eople around me than necessarily me. And I’m not saying that money ­isn’t tight, b­ ecause it is. . . . ​But it h ­ asn’t ­really hit my doorstep, ­because I have been able to keep my job and stuff like that.” Marie, a white ­mother of two who had completed her bachelor’s degree, explained that she and her husband had survived continuous rounds of layoffs in their jobs, cut back spending, and—­with small pay increases—­were in a slightly better economic situation than they had been before the recession. She said: It’s been challenging. My husband has been very fortunate. He has actually survived three rounds of layoffs at his job, and me—­I’m knocking on wood that I’m able to maintain my employment, ­because they are talking about layoffs also, so like they just recently let ten p­ eople go. . . . ​I could say the past five years our income earnings have increased, which has been a good ­thing, and it’s allowed us—­you know, he got his car, and I just recently got my car, paying down bills. But it still seems like we have to watch our bud­get and ­things like that. . . . ​So I mean, for us, bit by bit, on a financial level, it has increased, but you know, we still have to pay taxes at the end of the year. . . . ​But I ­really ­can’t complain, you know? Our situation could be so much worse.

As Marie put it, the fourteen ­women in this theme ­were significantly better off than ­others in this research. The remaining three themes discussed below focus on how m ­ others ­were barely making ends meet.

Graduating into the ­Great Recession  •  159

Group 2: Made Significant Cuts, but Surviving The second theme can best be described as the families who ­were very stressed financially and had cut back significantly as a result, but who w ­ ere surviving a week at a time. Most tried to have positive attitudes. Fifteen of the thirty-­five participants, or 43 ­percent, expressed ideas consistent with this theme. However, when their experiences ­were examined closely, three dif­fer­ent reasons for their financial stress appeared: unemployment, underemployment, or still being in school. Five of the fifteen w ­ omen in this theme had experienced recession-­related layoffs and long-­term unemployment. The ­women who had experienced unemployment told me how, like the w ­ omen in the previous theme, they had completed their degrees and, a­ fter finding jobs with wages that supported their families, w ­ ere ­doing okay. However, they had then been laid off and ­were unemployed for a significant period of time. At the time of the interview, they w ­ ere searching for work in their field but also applying for any position for which they ­were qualified. For example, Lucy, a Latina ­mother of three with a bachelor’s degree, discussed how unemployment affected her f­ amily: My losing my job is the big one. R ­ eally bud­geting my money, like ­really making sure, you know—­I ­really try to choose ­things well. I mean I have changed ­things for the positive. It [the recession] has affected a lot of p­ eople’s lives and homes, but I have been trying to do ­things that are ­free, so then I have been working with my kids on being healthier. Trying to exercise, trying to take them for runs, to play, to do t­ hings for ­free. You know, every­thing costs. . . . ​ Me, personally, ­because I have gotten ­really big on this health ­thing, I have been trying to change and work my bud­get into a positive. I have r­ eally been trying to stay positive, ­because being negative i­ sn’t ­going to get me anywhere. Like, it just makes me mad. I have to work with what’s g­ oing on. Meanwhile I have put my resume out t­ here in a few places, and I ­haven’t been getting calls back. I think I have maybe three interviews, um, and that’s not a lot in the last two years. And I have a good resume, you know.

Along the same lines, Chantel tried to keep a positive attitude. She is an African American ­mother of one who had earned an associate’s degree and found a job. However, she lost the job in December 2009 and had to move back in with her parents. Chantel said: “It’s pretty hard, it’s pretty hard. But I think times are just hard anyways, you know? We just kind of got to roll with it. It just is what it is, you know. You do too much complaining or worrying about something, and you’ll make yourself sick—so, I guess that’s how I deal with it. I ­can’t do nothing about it, so I try to just keep it moving. I got other ­things on my plate that I can take care of, and I take care of t­ hose ­things.”

160  •  Reformed American Dreams

The most common characteristic in this theme was losing a job. However, three m ­ others, including Lucy, had recently earned bachelor’s degrees and ­were looking for a first postdegree job. Two ­mothers, including Chantel, had only earned associate’s degrees and w ­ ere working on their bachelor’s degree while also looking for jobs. Unemployment was higher for ­those with less education, but unemployed workers with a bachelor’s degree or higher ­were unemployed longer than workers with only a high school diploma.25 This might be attributable to the types of jobs sought by more highly educated workers, which ­were more expensive and slower to come back in this recession, but this subject needs further exploration in ­future research. In addition to unemployment, three of the fifteen w ­ omen in this theme w ­ ere underemployed (two had earned a bachelor’s, and one an associate’s, degree). They ­were working full time, but not at livable wages (and without benefits such as health insurance). Although ­these ­mothers ­were not making wages that fully supported their families, they felt thankful to even have a job. While each ­mother discussed the uncertainty of the job market and her desire to have a better job or earn more at her current job, all of them also expressed relief that at least they had a job. Jasmine, who had gotten her current job less than a month before our interview, expressed this uncertainty: “So only recently in the last month, which was March 1st, I picked up a job. And even this job that I picked up, which is a full-­time job with a reasonable income, is still not as good as what I should be making. But at this point with the economy anything is good, as long as it’s not too bad. Even with this job I’m not sure what the stability w ­ ill be on it, depending on funding and t­ hings like that. So for now I’m feeling pretty positive as I’m working, but I had not been working for most of 2010, so it’s been a lot of strug­gle.” As Jasmine’s situation illustrates, even when single ­mothers work in positions paying reasonable amounts, the effects of having been unemployed or in poverty negatively affected f­amily finances. The high cost of living in the San Francisco Bay Area weighed on all participants. Fi­nally, seven ­mothers in this theme ­were still in school: four w ­ ere finishing bachelor’s degrees, and three w ­ ere in gradu­ate school. Furthermore, four of ­these seven ­were receiving SSI (three for disabled c­ hildren, and one for herself). In t­ hese four cases, the m ­ others’ ­career potential might have been curtailed by ­these disabilities and extra caregiving needs. However, all seven ­mothers in this subcategory reported that they w ­ ere d­ oing okay, but since they had not graduated their finances w ­ ere very tight, they w ­ ere still accumulating student loan debt, and all of them had timed off welfare. Most said that they ­were not being affected by the recession in terms of employment, but all worried about their f­ uture job prospects. The main effect of the recession on this group was rising costs, mainly in the areas of food, housing, and transportation. Nicole, an African American ­mother of one who had earned an associate’s degree and was pursuing a bachelor’s degree while working part time,

Graduating into the ­Great Recession  •  161

explained: “I ­don’t think the recession has ­really affected me as a lot more, but however I know the cost of food is g­ oing up, you know. Th ­ ere’s a lot of t­ hings just ­going up and up. And inflation and every­thing. So it may affect me in that kind of way, like foodwise. Maybe even housing, you know—­rent is ­going up, ­things is just g­ oing up. It’s just one of t­ hose t­ hings. But financially, that h ­ asn’t ­really affected me as much. B ­ ecause I got the support of working and then also I got the SSI and then I get the child support.” Each m ­ other watched her bud­ get very closely and hoped her finances would improve ­a fter graduation. Although they ­were barely getting by, they discussed still feeling poor. The m ­ others in this theme w ­ ere stressed but surviving, and some had other characteristics in common: they ­were more likely than ­those in the “­doing okay” theme discussed above to have more than two ­children (33  ­percent versus 14 ­percent), more ­were members of racial or ethnic minority groups (87 ­percent versus 57 ­percent), and more w ­ ere still in school (53 ­percent versus 21 ­percent).

Group 3: Poverty Is Poverty, Even in a Recession For low-­income ­women, especially single parents, poverty is poverty, even during recessions. The poor and working class often suffer eco­nom­ically from recessions ­earlier than middle-­income families, and recessions affect low-­income families for longer and more deeply than they affect middle-­income families.26 From the perspectives of ­these ­mothers, they ­were not surprised. As D put it, “we ­were poor before the recession; ­we’ll still be poor ­after the recession.” Even though only two of the thirty-­five m ­ others ­were in this theme, other m ­ others in the study also expressed ideas consistent with the theme. For example, Lele, who was struggling but making ends meet and was pursuing a PhD in sociology in 2011, explained: “You know, I think it’s—at the right h ­ ere and right now, it [the recession] h ­ asn’t r­ eally affected me in the pre­sent so much b­ ecause—­it’s kind of funny. Th ­ ere’s like a saying like—­well, for poor p­ eople a recession or a depression is not even a surprise, ­because that’s it, that’s how we live.” For some ­women, this idea was impor­tant b­ ecause they w ­ ere now part of the working poor. Even T, as discussed above, was a m ­ other who had recently earned her bachelor’s degree, was working full time, and was barely able to make ends meet. With only two participants, group 3 is too small to discuss common characteristics. However, many research participants, no ­matter which group they ­were in, expressed ­these ideas. Therefore, this theme is an impor­tant finding. Group 4: I’m ­Going through Hell Fi­nally, four ­mothers ­were not making it financially and ­were experiencing a deepening level of poverty. Each was having major financial trou­bles, three w ­ ere on the verge of homelessness, none was working more than ten hours a week, and none was eligible for welfare a­ fter reaching their lifetime sixty-­month limit. The next narrative bridges several themes and taps into the fourth and final

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theme of deep financial strug­gle. Nicole C. was struggling with being a massage therapist and needing child care for two toddlers: Well, it is scary, it’s ­really scary. Like all t­ hese programs have been cut, you know—­the child care. I have several friends who have been cut off completely from child care—­like no more, you have no more child care. That’s scary, you know, and just in the last week not being able to work at all and—­like I have zero dollars for this week, zero, you know, which is scary, and that’s exactly what that’s like. You have to quit your job b­ ecause you have nobody to watch your kids. . . . ​Oh. I have to take a week off b­ ecause my kid’s sick—­nobody is ­going to put up with that. Th ­ ere is no employer that would be okay with that at all. . . . ​We need food, and I ­don’t have any more food stamps, and I have five dollars in my wallet. . . . ​Um, fear. You know, it’s definitely—­like if I let my mind go ­there, I can see how p­ eople have, I just feel like the w ­ hole ­thing has been, um, breathing fear in p­ eople. . . . ​But it’s scary when like your ­whole life and every­thing is—­not just lifestyle, you know, like some ­people, but it just—­you know, food is a necessity, and good food, not just food. . . . ​It’s just crazy to me, just the ­whole recession ­thing and bud­get cuts, and where they are taking the money from. To me, it’s ­really scary. It’s ­really scary, it can be ­really scary.

Deborah, another m ­ other who had timed off welfare and who was working only eight hours a week, was most adamant that “I am g­ oing through hell right now ­because I’m a single parent, only one income.” She told a story about her son’s shoes having holes in them and she c­ ouldn’t afford a new pair, while all four of her ­children ­were sitting with her on the couch in her small apartment. She sat them on the couch before the interview started and wanted them to hear the interview and her strug­gles. She said: “And I told him [the son], you have to wear them [the shoes] ­until Mommy gets the paycheck, and I just got him a pair of shoes yesterday. But his shoes had holes. My c­ hildren’s shoes have holes.” Both Nicole C. and Deborah had dropped out of the associate’s degree programs that they had been pursuing in 2006. At some point during both of their 2011 interviews, they mentioned that without even an associate’s degree, they ­were ­really struggling to find jobs and support their families. However, even earning a degree does not guarantee financial stability. Faith had earned her bachelor’s degree and gotten a good job in her field, but she was injured on the job a­ fter just a year. That disability, combined with debt and the recession, had a hugely negative impact. When asked how the recession affected her f­ amily, Faith replied: Oh, greatly. You know, that is one of the reasons that I had to file for bankruptcy ­because I was—at the time when I was receiving money from my job, I ­wasn’t ­behind on any of my bills. But then what happened was at the same time

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my income had ­stopped, they had started increasing my interest rates from a lot of the dif­fer­ent accounts that I had b­ ecause of the recession, which ­really made it even more so impossible for me to even try to pay t­ hings. . . . ​You know, I would say that it had affected it a lot. And you know, it may have affected it with my job, too, ­because [at] my job t­ here has even been changes to the bud­get cuts since I’ve been out. It definitely has impacted me on more than one level.

When I first interviewed another ­woman, Princess, in 2006, I thought she was a bright, engaged, optimistic, and considerate w ­ oman who would be a success story in the course of my research. However, when I interviewed her again in 2011, she was living with her disabled son in a nonfunctioning car parked in a dangerous alley in Oakland, ­after a downward spiral of relatively minor events that had escalated. When she first walked into the interview, I noticed that she had no teeth and had lost twenty pounds off her already very thin frame, and I wondered if she had gotten into methamphetamine. However, it was a much sadder but simpler tale: medical expenses without a safety net. Princess had graduated from the local community college with a degree in business administration and was job hunting when she had minor complications from her diabetes, but she could not deal with them in a timely manner, given her financial situation. The complications escalated quickly, and her medical prob­lems and expenses left her homeless and toothless within two years. Despite being on Medi-­Cal (the health insurance for low-­income Californians), she could not afford the additional medical expenses (such as copayments, prescription drugs, or dietary requirements) to help keep her diabetes u­ nder control. Medi-­Cal would pay for only one postremoval denture adjustment. Given her medical prob­lems, she was still experiencing swelling during that adjustment, and her dentures did not fit correctly. She kept job hunting throughout all of t­ hese medical prob­lems, but she could not find a job as an administrative assistant (or any kind of employment) without any teeth. She lost her apartment, timed off welfare, and lost her food stamps. Then her car broke down in an alley one night, and she could not afford to pay for even the relatively minor repairs the car needed to be functional. She and her son w ­ ere living in that car with no income when I interviewed her in 2011. Her situation was so dire that this was the only time in the course of the research that I gave a participant more money than was outlined on the research documents. For this phase of interviews, I had a grant to pay participants $40 and a small discretionary fund to buy small hospitality items (such as a cup of coffee or a snack). That day, at the end of the interview, I gave Princess all of the money I had in my wallet, approximately $90. I also asked her if I could reach out to the advocate who had introduced us five years ­earlier to have that person contact her. The advocate was a well-­respected staff member at a community college, and Princess looked relieved at the suggestion. She said yes and

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thanked me for the idea. I could not pretend that her story and situation was business as usual, and I had to act further. Although her situation did not improve quickly, I did follow up with the advocate to confirm that she was getting additional help.27 Situations like extended unemployment, domestic vio­lence, or an illness or disability can ensnare a ­family in a deepening economic spiral, similar to ­those discussed by Mark Rank in his discussion of structural vulnerability theory.28 In this group, a few common characteristics stood out as contributing to their economic situation. All four w ­ omen had timed off welfare a­ fter reaching their sixty-­month lifetime limit, and ­because all had major conflicts with their caseworkers along the way, they ­were not receiving welfare assistance for their ­children. All had experienced domestic vio­lence and w ­ ere never given accommodations for it u­ nder welfare policy (three of the ­women experienced the domestic vio­lence while married). W ­ omen in this theme had between two and four ­children, a number just slightly higher than ­women in ­earlier themes, yet none received child support from the c­ hildren’s ­fathers. Fi­nally, the role of transitional or supportive social ser­vices was also impor­tant. Three of the w ­ omen in this theme w ­ ere not receiving food stamps or child-­care assistance due to bureaucratic “paperwork errors” at the welfare office.

Canaries in the Urban ­Labor Market: Characteristics That Strengthen or Devastate Across ­these themes, we see that families experienced the ­Great Recession in one of four similar ways. Throughout the four themes, certain characteristics, incidents, or qualities improved or devastated the ­mothers’ experiences in the ­labor market and their families’ well-­being. ­There are five primary characteristics that improved ­women’s experiences and boosted their economic position, and eight characteristics that devastated or harmed it, ­after leaving welfare. The first characteristic that strengthened and boosted upward mobility was earning a bachelor’s degree, especially being allowed to do so while still receiving welfare support (which made a huge difference). The second was having supportive transitional ser­vices: knowing about them, having advocacy support to utilize them, and using them fully. Third, participants who reported that they ­were sharing a ­house­hold with another wage earner—­anyone from a spouse or romantic partner to a roommate, but another adult who was working and could share bills, utilities, and ­house­hold expenses and responsibilities—­had an advantage. Fourth, the w ­ omen who attended a school with supportive ser­vices or resources to help students complete their education and who used them consistently and fully did much better ­after graduation and in the ­labor market than the ­women who did not have such ser­vices or resources. Fi­nally, finding career-­track employment within a year of graduation with benefits for the

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worker and dependents made a huge positive difference. In two cases, w ­ omen ­were even able to buy homes when the housing market crashed. Other characteristics, like having only one or two ­children, ­were more common with ­mothers ­doing better financially. Also, white participants ­were ­doing slightly better than nonwhite participants. However, four w ­ omen in this study found themselves struggling even more than when they ­were on welfare. They had not earned their degree or had suffered a major emergency, and they w ­ ere left wondering where their next meal or rent payment would come from. What characteristics affected where they ­were in 2011? The characteristic that devastated them first and foremost was not finishing their degree program. The ­women in the study who did not finish the degree program that they ­were enrolled in 2006, at the first interview, ­were disproportionally less likely to be ­doing well. Second, if a ­mother was sanctioned off welfare, especially while she was in school, this contributed to a downward trajectory. Third, for the m ­ others who experienced domestic vio­lence while in school, not getting supportive ser­vices for the trauma hurt their ­f uture economic chances. Fourth, not receiving child support hurt families’ financial trajectories. Fifth, not being eligible for or using supportive transitional ser­ vices burdened ­mothers. Sixth and seventh, not being able to find a job that paid a living wage with benefits and r­ unning out of unemployment insurance benefits before being able to find a job contributed to stagnation or downward mobility. Eighth and fi­nally, health conditions or lack of health care to cover health prob­lems compromised m ­ others’ finances as well as their ability to find and retain good jobs. The characteristics that devastated ­mothers w ­ ere largely affected by federal and state policy rather than individual choices. For example, welfare sanctions, termination of unemployment insurance benefits, and the inability to access or use supportive transitional ser­vices are all beyond the control of the individual. Therefore, this research suggests that we need to consider the lasting impacts of draconian social policies such as welfare sanctions, time limits, and a welfare system that focuses on casework instead of social work. Furthermore, social programs that devastate families in times of recession should be eliminated. The ­women in this study ­were making the best individual decisions they could given their circumstances—­but their choices ­were often constrained by their dire economic situations and meager assistance from the social safety net.

Conclusion In this third wave of research a­ fter welfare reform, we can use findings like ­those presented h ­ ere to discuss the post­recession conditions of work for low-­wage workers, the reformed safety net, the job market for recent college gradu­ates, and potential policy changes. Through longitudinal research with single

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­ others who pursued higher education while on welfare, I found that higher m education does increase ­mothers’ chances of economic stability, even in times of recession, especially for bachelor’s degree holders. The G ­ reat Recession deeply affected most American families, especially low-­income and formerly low-­ income families. The w ­ omen in this study can be viewed as the canaries in our ­labor market. Since they had only recently graduated from college and left welfare for the ­labor market, their economic and familial lives ­were still trying to strike a delicate financial balance between poverty and the working class. Some ­women ­were more securely moving t­ oward the m ­ iddle class than ­others. But even minor changes in the economy and l­ abor market, decreases or cuts to social ser­vice programs or benefits, increases in the costs of consumer products or transportation, and other such dynamics could affect all of the ­women’s economic condition. The ­Great Recession exposed the facts that the American safety net for low-­income families had been shredded over the past twenty-­five years, and that ­mothers who had been able to climb out of poverty still suffered greatly during economic downturns. Their experiences illustrate that we need to rebuild the safety net so that it is available to every­one during recessions. ­These canaries offer impor­tant insights into not only how low-­income families move up eco­nom­ically, but also what can keep members of the middle-­class from sliding downward. The 1996 and 2006 welfare reforms emphasized a work first approach aimed at reducing caseloads and moving families quickly into work, without addressing the condition of low-­wage workers in Amer­i­ca. As a result, welfare caseloads dropped dramatically, but the number of families in extreme poverty roughly doubled from 1996 to 2011, especially among families who ­were affected by the 1996 welfare reforms and t­ hose headed by single m ­ others.29 Overall, this research demonstrates the immediate need to rebuild the national safety net by expanding the welfare program, increasing access to higher education for low-­income students, and providing additional supportive and transitional ser­vices (especially child care, medical care, food stamps, and m ­ ental health assistance) that would increase single m ­ others’ chances of economic self-­ sufficiency. Increasing access to higher education for welfare parents helps families become eco­nom­ically self-­sufficient when time-­limited aid ends, thereby decreasing the poverty rate and shrinking the welfare rolls. Other major social programs like universal health care, affordable housing, expanded public transportation networks, and implementing a living wage would further support participants’ and other low-­income families’ chances of economic self-­sufficiency. Further research is needed in this third wave of welfare reform research about the ­Great Recession’s aftershocks for low-­income working families.

8

An American Dream for All

Over the course of this research, sixty-­three ­women told me their intimate stories about trying to beat the odds and, as ­people at Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME) would say, to gradu­ate off welfare and out of poverty, for good. Despite all odds, despite all of their barriers to work, the ­mothers in this study pursued higher education while on welfare. They talked about their strug­gle and fighting the hardest fight ­every day to get their education despite policy makers and caseworkers telling them that they could not do it. They graduated! They found jobs during the ­Great Recession. They voted. They marched. They met with policy makers to advocate for improvements to welfare policy. They also participated in this research and told their stories in the hope that welfare and social policies would be changed. Through their narratives they wanted to show policy makers that they did not want their lives to be tons easier, and they did not want a ­free r­ ide. They just wanted each day to be a ­little easier; they wanted the same opportunities for higher education as middle-­class students or t­ hose who did not have kids. They also wanted time to raise their c­ hildren, and most importantly, they wanted to help ­others have the same ­things. They wanted all ­mothers on welfare to be told about the opportunity to pursue a higher education and to be able to attend school. In the end, that was the most common answer to the last question I asked in e­ very interview, “what is the most impor­tant t­ hing you want ­people to know about your experiences?” They asked me to tell ­others on welfare that they could do it, too! 167

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Throughout this book, I have explored how low-­income single m ­ others participated in the reformed welfare system, pursued higher education, engaged in grassroots activism, and graduated during the ­Great Recession. Their experiences deeply challenge the prevailing societal conceptions of welfare m ­ others and instead illustrate how low-­income ­mothers are pursuing the American Dream. They are fighting for their families’ ­f utures in a society that blames them for their plight in poverty. In chapter 7, I argued that we could understand them as the canaries in our urban l­ abor markets. Their goals, like t­ hose of many o­ thers pursuing the American Dream, focused on providing for their ­children and completing an education that would help them find fulfilling jobs or c­ areers. However, during their journeys, the ­mothers uncovered grave prob­ lems with the reformed welfare system and experienced discrimination and in­equality. Just as importantly, they also experienced empowerment through their education or grassroots activism, and they used a critical lens through which to view the American Dream. The closing chapter of this book considers how the ­mothers are still pursuing an American Dream, while being critical of the American Dream. By believing in and attempting to pursue the American Dream, m ­ others on welfare in higher education make a central point to conservative critics: they are not culturally dif­fer­ent from other Americans. Through this research I have illustrated that ­mothers on welfare do not have deviant views of work, education, ­family, and personal responsibility, as assumed by the p­ eople who crafted the 1996 welfare reform policies. Instead, the significance that welfare ­mothers attribute to the pursuit of higher education is similar to that of other Americans: higher education offers the potential to advance in the ­labor market, earn more money and build c­ areers, be role models for their c­ hildren, and give meaning to their lives. My research finds that the ­mothers’ pursuit of higher education is in line with many cultural beliefs about what is needed to pursue and achieve the American Dream. ­Mothers on welfare pursue higher education to support themselves and their families, and their beliefs are rooted in the same understanding of what it takes to pursue the American Dream that many other Americans have. This closing chapter analyzes how the ­mothers in this study define the American Dream, explores their suggestions for social policy changes, and asks what could our national safety net look like if we believed more in the demo­cratic and meritocratic ele­ments of the American Dream instead of the cap­i­tal­ist and materialist ele­ments? What would happen if we collectively challenged systemic sexism, racism, and economic inequalities? Over the course of this research, the ­mothers who participated in it earned associate’s, bachelor’s, and master’s degrees. They built c­ areers, many of them in advocacy, social ser­vices, or activism, working to help other low-­income families. Through an analy­sis of their perspectives and experiences, we see that the American Dream does not need to be materialistic but instead could include a

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more robust social safety net, demo­cratic engagement, and community participation. Participants reconceptualized the American Dream in their narratives. The American Dream, much in the same way that James Truslow Adams wrote about it in the 1930s, could include a higher quality of life and a stronger community instead of increasing the quantities of stuff in our individual lives.1 As a society, we could strive to meet ­people’s basic needs, provide health care for all, expand opportunities to pursue education, create more community centers and parks, and improve the conditions of work. The w ­ omen in this research believed that we could improve the quality of ­people’s lives and ­people’s engagement with their communities in ways that did not focus on individual material accumulation. This chapter examines the ­women’s assessment of the American Dream and their ideas for social policy changes. The ­women who w ­ ere involved in grassroots activism framed their ideas for social policy changes differently from ­those who ­were not involved. The ­women involved in activism focused their social policy ideas on changing the structure of our welfare system and rebuilding a national social safety net. However, the w ­ omen not involved in grassroots activism focused their ideas more locally on improving experiences at the welfare office. This difference is illuminating. While both are certainly needed, if the ­whole welfare system is reconceptualized along the lines that the activist ­mothers suggested, with a focus on social work and rebuilding a true safety net for families in the United States, then the local welfare experience should improve as well. Fi­nally, given that rates of deep poverty and the ranks of the working poor have both doubled in the United States in the past fifteen years, this research is a touchstone for identifying social policies that can provide economic security for every­one. Therefore, in closing, this chapter reflects on how expanding access to higher education, creating job market supports for the working poor, extending unemployment assistance, expanding welfare, ensuring the availability of affordable health care, and strengthening transitional child care could not only help low-­income families move up eco­nom­ically, but also keep members of the ­middle class from moving down. Social policy changes can be a gateway to the American Dream for all in our society. We just have to want a collective dream alongside or instead of individual ones.

Reconceptualizing the American Dream The m ­ others’ critiques of the American Dream started surfacing during the second round of interviews in 2008, when, in the midst of the recession, participants started mentioning their frustration with the media’s coverage of it. Up to this point, I had not asked them about the American Dream specifically. Yet their biting criticism of the cap­i­tal­ist part of its ideology was clear in their

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narratives. At the same time, the mainstream media was also asking if the American Dream was dead. This popu­lar question was often followed by stories about increasing inequalities, the high unemployment rate, bank failures, home foreclosures, and rising tuition for college. Hence, during the third round of interviews (conducted in 2011), I asked participants directly to define the American Dream and tell me what it meant to them. Their answers w ­ ere much more illuminating and critical than any of the mainstream media’s coverage. One of the most illuminating definitions came from Mercedes, a Latina ­mother of four, who said: I think that it is a lot of propaganda, b­ ecause every­one is buying ­houses and this is your American Dream. And I wanted to buy a h ­ ouse, but it w ­ asn’t [one of] my top three ­things that I wanted to do—­which for me was to get an education, get a job, and provide for my f­ amily. And then I started buying into it and thinking I do need a h ­ ouse, and maybe I am not as worthy—­what is wrong with my American Dream? But I think p­ eople now realize that it is not so much the material side of it, it is more—it is the social network, your community. It builds up and it also makes the individual. The American Dream it is more of a community dream to me.

Mercedes, like many o­ thers in this study, had earned a bachelor’s degree, had a good job, and was pursuing a master’s degree. She was a leader with LIFETIME and had survived a very serious medical condition during this research. Her view on the American Dream echoed o­ thers’ views and was critical of the expectation that this dream could be fulfilled only through individual pursuits of home owner­ship or material accumulation. In their narratives, the ­mothers focused on four themes related to the American Dream: achieving modest financial stability, being involved in their community, embracing the strug­g le, and making an opportunity to reconceptualize society. First, similar to normative expectations of the American Dream, but in a more restrained way, they discussed modest dreams about financial stability. Nicole explained, “It’s not a white picket fence, I know that. I think, to me, the American Dream is being able to succeed in life ­doing what you need to do and being also self-­sufficient. And being able to be stable financially.” Betty continued with this idea: “You hear, ‘oh the American Dream—go to school, get a job, buy a h ­ ouse, and be financially—­not rich, but maybe not have to strug­g le.’ I would love to be able to have a ­house, buy a ­house, pay off my credit cards, and just continue on. That would be the American Dream, I think. I got my education, but I’m far from the American Dream. I think ­people just want to not have to worry. Have some place to call their own.” Modest dreams filled the ­women’s narratives. They wanted to be out of debt and have a good job with benefits. They wanted to have housing stability.

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They needed health care. They wanted a better life for their kids. They worried about retirement. Marie ner­vously laughed when she said: Um, you know honestly, I ­don’t have to have a mansion, but if I could have a ­house that I could afford to pay my mortgage, put food on the t­ able, and be able to take some trips with my f­ amily—­that, and then be able to age and retire and live comfortably. Where, you know, the bills are paid and ­there is food on the ­table, and I could go places ­every now and then, I would be a happy camper. For me, that’s, you know, my American Dream. I d­ on’t need to have the biggest or the best or the most expensive, but just have my basic needs met where, you know, I’m comfortable and not feeling like I’m struggling or worried all of the time about money, you know?

Yes, we know. Along the same lines, Sally related how her dream of financial stability was to be able to trust banks and lenders in the same way as the m ­ iddle class does. The issue of being “unbanked” or not having access to mainstream banking institutions has been extensively explored in poverty research.2 Furthermore, many low-­income ­people do not trust financial institutions ­because of predatory lending practices that exploit low-­income communities. Poverty comes with dangers and pitfalls that the ­middle and upper classes deal with less commonly. Sally’s American Dream included not being a victim to ­those predatory lending practices: “I guess in part it does mean having a ­house without some predatory lender rip you off—­that’s part of the American Dream. Having a car, a nice reliable car that you can purchase through financing without getting ripped off again, equality and stability for t­ hose around me.” Next, ­mothers discussed their desire to be engaged in their communities. Their dreams of being modestly comfortable did not preclude their involvement in their communities. Their dreams w ­ ere not the individualistic ones usually associated with the American Dream—­instead, they spoke of collective dreams of engaged communities, social justice, and involvement in social change. Courtney explained: Being comfortable, being able to pay bills on time, being able to give back to my community—­and I’m not ­really interested in so much materialistic ­things. . . . ​I mean, it’s like, I would call it comfortable. I want to be able to not be stressed or have to live paycheck to paycheck, that’s the American Dream to me. Being able to, you know—­I’m looking into the f­ uture now, making my grandchildren happy on Christmas without it breaking my bud­get, you know? I guess if my car breaks down, I’ll be able to repair it without saying, “oh my goodness, they ­aren’t g­ oing to have dinner to­night,” you know? That’s the American Dream for me.

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D, the oldest participant in this study, related how her dream has changed over the years and through her complicated experiences in life: “Over time, the American Dream was to me—­I was married, I had a cushy job, I had two cars and a garage, and 2–3 ­houses, one in the hills, one in the flatlands, and one in the Virgin Islands. But the American Dream now is just to live well holistically, emotionally connected, mentally connected, physically connected, and most of all spiritually connected. I can have all t­ hose t­ hings. . . . ​So my investment of the American Dream is to do well so I can help o­ thers do well.” In addition to the American Dream not being about concrete achievements or material possessions, a few w ­ omen mentioned that it is also about the pro­ cess or the journey through life. To some, the American Dream was about turning life’s strug­gles and challenges into opportunities and personal freedom. Lele explained her understanding of the concept in this way: “To me, to be able to drive [your own life]. To be able to have opportunities. I guess to me it’s—­I guess the first word that came to my head when you said ‘American Dream’ was opportunity. See how all of this is g­ oing to come to be. And also I want—­I want the opportunity to be able to have all of the t­ hings that this country, all of the ­things that our forefather[s] said that we should have. We should all be able to have some place decent to live, we should all be able to work and be compensated for it, we should all be able to be a part of the decision-­making pro­ cess. So to me, that’s what the American Dream is.” RBS built on Lele’s ideas in her narrative when she told me: “I think the American Dream to me is exactly this. I think when we are young, we are conditioned to look at the TV and look and see that the American Dream is a white picket fence, f­ amily—­wife and husband, kids—­and stuff like that. But I think the American Dream is all about the strug­gle. ­Really, I believe that it is. I believe that it is what you make of it.” Yet like many p­ eople in the United States, some m ­ others wondered if an American Dream was accessible to them. Dena related her pessimism about it, saying, “I d­ on’t even know if that exists anymore, to be frankly honest. Growing up—in my era, it used to be having the home and vacation home and the two kids. They went to college, and I just—­I just I ­don’t know. I definitely d­ on’t see myself owning a home.” Lucy’s pessimism shifted ­toward a reconceptualization of the concept: [The] American Dream—­I guess to me it’s more like ­family. Having a nice ­house, a nice car, every­thing is perfect. But I just feel like that’s just not real­ity. We c­ an’t always have what we wish for and what we want, so the American Dream is a lie. [laughs]. It ­really is. I feel like it’s a lie, and in the end it’s ­really about being grateful and appreciation and learning to value what we are able to grasp and get our hands on and get out of life. And if we ­can’t get every­thing, we have to realize that it’s the way life is, and we c­ an’t let that bring us down, you know? . . . ​So I believe that the American Dream is a lie. And I d­ on’t know

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who came up with that concept, but d­ on’t fall into that trap. ­Because it is your life and what you make of it.

Throughout the ­women’s narratives about the American Dream—no m ­ atter if the subject came up when they answered questions that I asked directly about what the American Dream meant to them, or if it came up while they ­were discussing other issues such as the economy, their pursuit of higher education, their strug­gles in the ­labor market, raising their c­ hildren, or their hopes for their ­futures—­the ­women pushed back against materialist conceptions of the American Dream. ­Mothers mentioned some traditional aspects of the American Dream, including personal freedom, hope, control over decision making, fulfilling employment at a livable wage, access to higher education, and the ability to buy a home. However, through my analy­sis of the ­mothers’ perspectives, I found that their quest for the American Dream did not need to be materialistic, although they insisted that the American Dream include having their personal needs met and that it must incorporate a collective dream about a more just society—­such as through a more robust social safety net, demo­cratic engagement, and community participation. M ­ others mentioned that our new American Dream could also include protection from deep poverty (or access to a social safety net), access to health care, and secure retirement. They called t­ hese ideas “an American Dream for all.” The ­mothers ­were critical of the dominant capitalistic conception of the American Dream and instead envisioned an American Dream that included at least a minimum of economic security for every­one. In their discussions both of the American Dream and of social policy changes, ­mothers focused on social policies that would expand access to higher education, create job market supports for the working poor, extend unemployment assistance, expand welfare payments and eligibility, ensure the availability of affordable health care for all, strengthen and expand affordable high-­ quality child care, and build safe and connected communities. Their American Dream centered on a social safety net for families—­including families like theirs. They hoped that in a country as wealthy as the United States, families would not experience poverty. In wealthy nations, poverty is a choice. The United States has made social policy choices that mean some ­people, despite their hard work or individual efforts, ­will still be poor; and some ­people, despite their need, ­will not have access to health care, higher education, or housing. The w ­ omen in this study think that ­those policy choices are abominable. Their American Dream was one of opportunity and meritocracy. They worked hard, in school and in the ­labor market, to move ahead. They argued that the United States can afford to choose social policies that guard against deep poverty and open opportunities. ­These sorts of policies could help low-­income families move up eco­nom­ically and also keep p­ eople in the middleclass from moving down.

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Poverty Theory and Poverty Policy This research used a grounded theory approach, drawing on the narratives of ­mothers on welfare who w ­ ere pursuing higher education to contribute to academic theories of poverty and ­human capital. The ­mothers who participated in this study used ­these approaches in their narratives. Although they did not necessarily use the academic jargon, the m ­ others’ explanations of their experiences and suggestions for policy changes w ­ ere in line with t­ hese academic theories. The ­mothers pursued higher education for reasons consistent with an individual h ­ uman capital approach: they believed that getting more education, particularly an associate’s or bachelor’s degree, would pay off in higher earnings. They w ­ ere also enmeshed in and aware of the structural arguments about the ­causes of poverty—­such as a dearth of well-­paid jobs—­but understanding ­those arguments did not help them put food on their t­ able daily or pay their rent. For that reason, many ­mothers w ­ ere involved in economic justice organ­ izations, while at the same time working to increase their own h ­ uman capital. They recognized that social change happens very slowly but still believed it pos­ si­ble. The m ­ others’ narratives about welfare policy and potential social policy changes focused on two main components: the importance of education and training for individuals to get off welfare and out of poverty, and the need for structural improvements in our ­labor market and social safety net. This vernacular approach is very similar to Mark Rank’s structural vulnerability theory; the theory is novel b­ ecause it highlights both h ­ uman capital theory and components of a structural theory of poverty.3 The narratives shared by the ­women in my study and the ideas they offered for poverty and welfare policy changes can best be understood using Rank’s structural vulnerability theory and the analogy of economic musical chairs: ­there are always players who are not able to get a chair when the ­music stops. Rank’s analogy illustrates the two central questions about poverty. The losers raise the question, who is more likely to experience poverty? But the question logically preceding it is, why does poverty exist in the first place? Or, for the game of musical chairs, why are ­there too few chairs to begin with?4 The m ­ others in my study w ­ ere aware that they and ­others like them w ­ ere losing in this game of economic musical chairs. They ­were ­doing every­thing in their power not to lose in the economy, primarily through acquiring additional education. Yet they also realized that while they might do every­thing in their power to increase their skills, t­ here still would not be enough jobs paying wages that could support a ­family. As ­these m ­ others discussed their policy recommendations, they distinguished between increasing their individual chances and the individual chances for other w ­ omen like them, and fundamentally changing economic opportunities for low-­income families. Many of the m ­ others w ­ ere involved in LIFETIME, which focuses on grassroots po­liti­cal change. They

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wanted to be part of a fundamental change in our society—­changing the nature of the game that, in Rank’s words, “produces losers in the first place.”5

Getting My Own Chair The overall theme of the ­mothers’ policy suggestions, w ­ hether at the federal or state level, was increased access to higher education. They viewed education as the most critical individual-­level strategy to getting themselves and ­others like them out of poverty. Alexis explained: A lot of [­mothers on welfare] are not encouraged to go to school, to community college, or to four-­year universities, so they stay in that hole, that low-­ minimum-­wage hole that they c­ an’t get out of. I think that, umm, I think just that m ­ others on welfare—­anybody who’s on welfare should ­really just try to go to school. You know, b­ ecause it relieves a lot of the worries, of, “well, am I g­ oing to get fired from this job,” you know. At least if you are—if you stay in school, you know that it is something that is temporary, that eventually in the long term, ­w ill give you a better chance of succeeding and, you know, in the workforce or what­ever you wanna do. You have a greater chance ’cause you have more knowledge, more information.

I then asked Alexis, “how could welfare policies be changed or improved so that policies encouraged p­ eople to go to school, or help them stay in school?” She responded: Having like orientations about education, about four-­year colleges, four-­year universities—­having that as part of the orientation, like a full pre­sen­ta­tion on how you have the option, versus instead of g­ oing into a vocation, how you have that option, and making that like a mandatory orientation before getting your cash or before getting your food stamps. Making that something mandatory from the beginning, you know, right up front. Like you can e­ ither work, [have a] vocation, or [go to] community college or four-­year university—­you know, giving p­ eople the option, like making that like an orientation. They should also set up CalWORKs [California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids] programs on four-­year university—at, you know, the four-­year university campuses, I think, ­because they only offer that at the community colleges. If a bill could be passed or something like that. It could be the t­ hing of the land where like in ­every state they had like a CalWORKs program at a four-­year university, or something. A federal focus.

Lele added to Alexis’s ideas and explained: “You know, basically [education] is a passport into society. It is your ticket into ­people saying that you had enough—­ you had enough discipline, enough focus to go through X amount of years, to

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focus on one goal, and we applaud you for that. So it is definitely a ticket for ­people to look at you.” Lele’s explanation meshes with Rank’s musical chairs analogy: she felt that her education at the community college, and especially when she gradu­ates from the University of California (UC), Berkeley, w ­ ill get her a chair in the economic game, and recent research supports her position. Despite the message of “work first, education last” from Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF), w ­ omen still pursue education and job training programs to try to increase their wages and leave the welfare system—to meta­ phor­ically gain a chair in the game of economic musical chairs.

Creating More Chairs in the Game The m ­ others acknowledged that increasing access to higher education is an individual strategy that works only if t­ here are enough jobs. They discussed the structural need to expand the number of available jobs at wages that could support a ­family and the immediate need for a real social safety net. ­These two policy suggestions, together with increasing access to higher education, coincide with three of the five key strategies Rank outlines for reducing poverty, as discussed below.6 By increasing the number of jobs or creating an environment in which ­there are more living-­wage jobs (by significantly increasing the federal minimum wage, as an example), t­ here would be more chairs in the economic game and thus fewer losers. Angela, the youn­gest participant in this research, criticized the current situation: ­ ere’s r­ eally no good jobs. Oh, I’ve worked at the mall. Recently, the holidays Th just passed, and I was working at the mall. And them shitty jobs are like $7.75, ick, you [know], and just dealing with, being able, from the difference from how I used to live, and you know, and assimilate, and they pay $7.75 an hour, and some places even $8, and I was getting paid $10 in San Francisco. . . . ​But it’s bad, you d­ on’t get paid no more than $10, sometimes you get paid $7.50, $7.75, and I mean, so ­people—­that’s why they feel like they ­don’t have any hope, or they ­don’t have any other choice to do ­things, ­because they ­don’t have enough for their ­house or their food, or what­ever it may be. But, I mean, the work, the jobs that they have available for us minorities, or ­women on CalWORKs, I mean . . . ​we d­ on’t have good jobs out ­there.

Nicole further explained the importance of access to education for increasing an individual’s chances in the l­ abor market. She also described how t­ here ­were not enough resources focused on ending poverty in the first place, ensuring that ­people who are poor remain poor (that is, losers in the economic game): “I think just higher-­paying jobs would be one t­ hing, education would be, two. If p­ eople

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­ ere encouraging parents to, hey, go to school and get an education, that would w benefit—­that would prob­ably be the best t­ hing right ­there. But a lot of the time, ­people ­don’t have the resources, you know what I mean, and a lot of times, ­there are not enough focus or attention on poor ­people to actually get out of poverty. ­There are not enough resources in schools, t­ here are not enough. Pretty much, t­ here is just not enough.” Sally, an Asian Pacific Islander ­mother of two and former methamphetamine addict, had finished her associate’s degree in drug counseling in the spring of 2006. She was very critical of the current system and its work first rhe­toric, as well as the role of corporate greed and the lack of motivation on the part of politicians and the general public to change the system. The end of her quote came the closest to explaining outright the economic musical chairs game: You know, interestingly enough, I think for a w ­ oman in general who is trying to get [a job], [it’s] bad. I saw somewhere in the paper that t­ here was some—­like California’s got booming jobs, but ­they’re prob­ably all at Wal-­Mart. You know, that’s how come—­because, it’s not like, it’s not meaningful. I d­ on’t think ­there’s a lot of meaningful work that’s accessible to p­ eople who phase out of CalWORKs. ­Because, I mean, in large, I think a lot of ­women who are on CalWORKs are being forced to work, they are not encouraged to pursue their education, you know. And work takes on many dif­fer­ent levels but, umm, I ­don’t think [­there are jobs for w ­ omen leaving CalWORKs]. . . . ​I think that, you know—go back to what I said about share the wealth. Subsidize employment, if ­you’re working. That would get you from at least below the poverty level, that’s a start. D ­ on’t call it welfare, call it what­ever ­these corporations call it, tax somethings, benefits somethings—­you know, give it a ­whole new name. Get the stigma away from it. Umm, education r­ eally should be accessible, you know, a­ fter high-­school level. You know, like my ­sister—­she can barely qualify for financial aid, she should go back to school. Her husband’s got two jobs, ­they’re living in a two-­bedroom apartment that is subsidized, they have two car notes [loans], they just want the American Dream, but it’s all on the credit card. And the bill collectors are calling the neighbors looking for them. You know it’s just, yeah, it’s not a, it’s not, umm—­a nd you know ­people should have the option to go to school. But I think that the w ­ hole system is not built around having that happen. The w ­ hole values of our culture—­it’s not ­there, it’s just not ­there. So I ­don’t ­really see it happening, you know, I ­don’t.

I then inquired how she would change the welfare system, and Sally responded specifically: “Put some money into it. Put some money into it. Make real meaningful programs. What would I want them to do? Stop giving the corporate

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fucks a write-­off on every­thing. That’s where a source of the money could be. Tax the fuckers. Get real with it. Share the fucking wealth. Hello, fifth-­largest economy,7 hello! You know, I mean it’s—­it’s not that complicated. Well, it is for them ­because it ­will mean something to do with their profit, you know, margins. Well, fuck. You know, I d­ on’t know—­that’s what I would tell the politicians [laughs].” Sally emphasized that the values of our country conflict with the policies in place. She believed in the American Dream, yet she was skeptical of the chances for low-­income ­women to achieve that dream given the current system. Tony, a recent UC Berkeley gradu­ate, also emphasized the irony in the current policy. She highlighted the disparity between how the current policy was structured and what was needed for m ­ others to be eco­nom­ically self-­sufficient: When you compare the standard of living from p­ eople who have been able to get an education and t­ hose who have not, it is absolutely a no-­brainer. And so I think that the social ser­v ice agency perhaps, or even legislator[s], policy makers, what­ever, need to look at what the goals are. If their goals are to have functioning, self-­sufficient, productive members of society, that are giving back to their society, then maybe they need to better look at how they can outfit social policy to fit that goal. But if that is not their goal, then [laughs], then they are ­doing exactly what they should be—­which is wasting time, wasting public funding, not getting done what should be done.

The m ­ others in this study pointed out the immediate need for a real social safety net and that, given the many prob­lems with the current system, one does not exist. ­A fter the 2006 reauthorization of TANF, the work policies ­were further emphasized, and the m ­ others believed that the system was moving even further from creating a social safety net that actually worked for the families that needed it the most. Interestingly, many of the participants mentioned that they supported time limits on cash aid—if ­those limits included reasonable exceptions to the time limit, higher cash aid grant levels during their time on aid, and real help getting off welfare before reaching a lifetime limit. One of the best ideas was offered by a ­mother who discussed raising the grant levels for a set amount of time, such as five to seven years, and providing real supportive ser­vices to help the ­family transition off welfare. If, ­after that time, the person could not get off welfare, then the m ­ other suggested moving him or her into another type of program that would provide longer-­term safety-­net benefits at a lower level (that still covered basic needs) and maybe fewer supportive ser­vices. The ­mothers ­were insistent that real help was necessary for them to leave poverty, and they wanted to get off welfare as much as the conservatives wanted them off it. Monique explained: “So, it’s just like—­you get t­ hese types of assistance,

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and [so why] not take advantage of them and use them while you have them? And when you get your job and get working, and make the money, . . . ​you can get off of them and let somebody e­ lse use them.” The m ­ others in this study wanted nothing more than the opportunity to move out of poverty and into the ­middle class. Many of them also expressed the desire to help ­others do the same—­through their c­ areers and po­liti­cal activism. They wanted to change the game for themselves and every­one e­ lse, so that fewer p­ eople would be economic losers.

Differences in ­Mothers’ Social Policy Suggestions and Why This M ­ atters All of the ­mothers who participated in this study emphasized the importance of their education as a means of leaving poverty. Furthermore, they acknowledged that structural ­factors, such as job market dynamics, also played a role in who is poor. The m ­ others’ views on the social policies and structural f­ actors that affected their daily lives illustrate how, as a society, we can create policy together that more closely reflects the lived real­ity of poverty. The on-­the-­ ground experiences of m ­ others on welfare tell a very dif­fer­ent story from the rhe­toric that is used by administrators and politicians in the welfare debate. I believe that listening to the voices of t­ hose affected by t­ hese social policies is a critical step in making policies that would improve their daily lives. I conducted this research in the midst of the ongoing policy uncertainty of TANF reauthorization, the ­Great Recession, and po­liti­cal changes. During this study, I repeatedly asked participants about their views on poverty and welfare policy, the local ­labor market, and what changes they would like to see take place. The ­mothers had quite a lot to say about the social policies that affected their daily lives, and as demonstrated in ­these chapters, they wanted their voices and experiences heard in the policy pro­cess. However, variations emerged in the specific policy suggestions that the ­mothers gave, particularly between t­ hose who did and t­ hose did not participate in LIFETIME. One of the main differences between the narratives of ­these two groups of m ­ others lay in the nature of their policy suggestions. The LIFETIME parent leaders’ suggestions w ­ ere more structural and focused on larger changes in the welfare system and federal social policies than ­those of non-­LIFETIME participants. For example, LIFETIME ­mothers focused on shifting from a work first focus to expanding access to education and training programs, streamlining the welfare bureaucracy, and providing universal access to health care and child care. In contrast, the suggestions of the non-­ LIFETIME participants focused on more local issues, such as interactions between clients and caseworkers and vari­ous practices at the local welfare offices. Although ­these issues are indicative of broader systemic concerns,

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­Table 8.1

Policy Suggestions Chiefly from LIFETIME ­Mothers Suggestion

­Mothers making the suggestion

Expand access to university and graduate-­level education.

Jasmine, D, Nicole, Mercedes, MMM, Jewel, Nancy, Betty, Sally, Angela, Princess, Michelle

Expand access to affordable health care.

Jasmine, Mercedes

Provide domestic vio­lence and/or ­mental health assistance and accommodations in welfare-­to-­work contracts.

Jasmine, Mercedes, Betty, Misha

Provide transportation assistance.

Jasmine, Mercedes

Expand access to child care, especially in the eve­nings and on campus.

Jasmine, Mercedes, Rebecca, Tony, Nicole C.

Fix the bureaucracy in the welfare system.

D, Nancy, Tony, Sally, Lucy

Remove time limits for participants pursuing higher education.

Marie, Betty, Kelly

Listen to the ­people who are on welfare when crafting policies.

Lele J., Courtney, Betty, Faith, Sydney, Sally

Provide supportive structures for parents at California State University system campuses or at the university level like the Cooperative Agencies Resources for Education program and/or special financial aid for student parents.

Betty, Faith, Sydney, Tony, Alexis

NO T E: The names in italic are non-­LIFETIME ­mothers.

the ways that non-­LIFETIME ­mothers framed their policy suggestions w ­ ere pointedly local in nature. ­Tables 8.1 and 8.2 summarize the specific policy suggestions that ­mothers mentioned in their interviews, or­ga­nized by the ­mothers’ participation status in LIFETIME (twenty-­four w ­ ere LIFETIME m ­ others, and twenty-­one w ­ ere not). In only a few cases did ­mothers give a policy suggestion that was more commonly given by ­mothers with a dif­fer­ent participation status: eight non-­ LIFETIME ­mothers made suggestions that ­were most commonly made by LIFETIME ­mothers, and four LIFETIME ­mothers made suggestions that ­were most commonly made by non-­LIFETIME m ­ others. As seen in ­tables 8.1 and 8.2, the policy suggestions of ­mothers who participated in LIFETIME w ­ ere strikingly dif­fer­ent from the suggestions of m ­ others who did not. The policy suggestions from the LIFETIME m ­ others focused on systemic changes to the welfare system that emphasized a shift in priorities from a work first approach to more holistic conception of the supportive ser­vices that

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­Table 8.2

Policy Suggestions Chiefly from Non-­LIFETIME ­Mothers Suggestion

­Mothers making the suggestion

Treat each person as an individual and/or have more individual flexibility in program rules.

RBS, Dena, Jewel, Mindy, Vanessa, Daria, Twitch, Mercedes

Have more caseworkers or fewer cases per caseworker.

Jane, Monique, Jewel, Kelly, Mindy, Daria, Angela, Twitch

Have better-­trained caseworkers.

Jane, Monique, Jewel, Vanessa, Angela, Tony, Sally

Have dif­fer­ent rules for CalWORKs students, to allow them to go to school.

Dena, MMM, Mindy, Sally

Ask less personal information of participants.

Keisha, Jewel

Provide access to information about welfare; give participants all the options for work activities.

Jewel, Nicole C., Angela, Alexis

NO T E: The names in italic are LIFETIME ­mothers.

­ omen need to be eco­nom­ically secure. Th w ­ ese suggestions included expanding access to bachelor’s and master’s degree programs and eliminating time limits for ­people in school; expanding access to universal health care, including ­mental health and domestic vio­lence ser­vices; providing universal child care; investing in public transportation or providing transportation assistance; and creating supportive structures at the university level for welfare students. In addition, in ­these policy suggestions participants called attention to the real­ity that they had not been considered when policy makers created t­ hese policies and emphasized that they should be. Fi­nally, t­ hese suggestions highlighted the substantial inefficiencies in the system and explored ways that it could be streamlined. In contrast, the policy suggestions made by non-­LIFETIME m ­ others ­were more locally focused on interactions within the county welfare systems and at the county welfare office. Suggestions such as hiring more caseworkers and providing better training for them brings to light the strug­gles that many ­mothers have with their caseworkers. Yet the ­women did not link ­these individual prob­ lems with larger issues in the welfare system. The overall priorities of welfare reform created a policy that was more intrusive, less efficient, and more punitive. The non-­LIFETIME ­mothers noticed t­ hose qualities, but they did not recognize that ­these issues ­were systemic instead of local concerns. Therefore, when they suggested policy changes, ­these ­mothers did not acknowledge that their suggestions might be indicative of broader concerns with the reformed welfare policy.8

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Social Policy to Create an American Dream for All ­ others pursuing higher education while on welfare made both concrete local M policy suggestions and a structural critique of the welfare system and the society in which it is embedded. Not surprisingly, access to higher education for low-­income ­women, both to ­those on welfare and ­those not on it, was central to their proposals. By accounting for all of the ­mothers’ discussions of policy changes and the inadequacies of the vari­ous systems in which they participated (welfare, higher education, and the U.S. economy) and by thoughtfully examining the frequency and attention that each concept received throughout the interviews and focus groups, I suggest the enactment of seven essential social policies. The key is that ­these policy recommendations emerged from my conversations with the ­women and through their narratives. None of ­these policy recommendations are new—­other social scientists and researchers have made them previously. I have documented examples of t­ hese studies in the note for each policy. What is new is the totality of this list. The seven policies are: 1.

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Expand access to higher education for all Americans and provide the financial and supportive assistance that students of vari­ous backgrounds need to complete their degrees.9 Ensure universal access to health care, including ser­vices for domestic vio­lence, ­mental health, and substance abuse.10 Expand access to affordable housing for families making less than the self-­sufficiency standard.11 Increase public transportation networks and affordable access for riders.12 Provide access to safe, affordable, and enriching child care for all families.13 Increase the federal minimum wage to living-­wage levels.14 Focus on social work, not casework, in social support programs.15

If t­ hese seven essential social policies w ­ ere a­ dopted, I think that many families would no longer need welfare, and the poverty rate would fall. Welfare reform focused on reducing caseloads and moving families into work, without addressing the condition of low-­wage workers in Amer­i­ca. As a result, the welfare caseloads dropped dramatically, but the poverty rate did not fall.16 ­These seven essential social policies address the spectrum of issues that w ­ omen on welfare, low-­wage workers, and many p­ eople in the working and ­middle classes deal with on a daily basis. Any one or two of t­ hese policies could create significant changes for poor families in our country. Yet the primary policy contribution of my study is that we need to implement all seven of ­these policy recommendations. Often policy makers and academics focus on one policy solution. However, this

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fragmentation of social policy does not address the scale of prob­lems that low-­ income families face. One or two policy solutions are not g­ oing to address the structural failures that leave many families vulnerable to long-­term poverty. With all seven policies, I believe that we could drastically reduce poverty in this country. This may be a wish list, but in discussions of change in U.S. politics, we need to start somewhere.

Afterword Evolution of the American Dream 2018 More than fifteen years have passed since I started this research. When I moved to California in August 2003, the po­liti­cal buzz was Arnold Schwarzenegger’s ­running in the recall election of Governor Gray Davis. Much to my surprise, Schwarzenegger won. The bodybuilder-­turned-­actor-­turned–­Republican politician became a fairly popu­lar and moderate governor of the left-­leaning state. He had married into a well-­k nown po­liti­cal f­amily whose members valued public ser­vice, and he learned much from them. He had a hunger and a willingness to learn about topics that he ­didn’t know anything about. “The Governator” talked about having “college” at his dining-­room ­table for a ­couple of hours each day during the campaign, for him to learn about issues that he was unfamiliar with. Many times during the years that LIFETIME was working on welfare or poverty policy, Schwarzenegger would change his position ­after po­liti­cal actions or protests, meetings with advocacy groups, and learning more about the topics. His initial positions w ­ ere typical conservative Republican stances, but advocacy, personal testimony, facts, research, and discussion could moderate or move his actions or decisions closer to the center. He ­wasn’t as bad a governor as many feared he would be. He ­wasn’t g­ reat e­ ither, but then the ­Great Recession hit California hard. The voters swung back from electing a po­liti­cal outsider to reelecting former Governor Jerry Brown, a Demo­crat, in 2010 to help fix the prob­lems of the recession. 184

Afterword  •  185

Fast forward to 2016. Another outsider candidate wins an executive office. However, the election of Donald Trump to the U.S. presidency was a very dif­ fer­ent moment for Amer­ic­ a. The businessman-­turned–­real­ity star–­turned–­ Republican politician was not moderated by a sense of admiration for public ser­vice, a re­spect for learning about topics unknown to him, or being married to a member of the Kennedy ­family. Reports emerged from inside his campaign and the White House about Trump’s short attention span, disregard for scientific evidence or facts, and unwillingness to learn about issues.1 Trump’s tweets and public comments stoked misogyny, racism, anti-­immigrant sentiments, xenophobia, and homophobia.2 His campaign slogan “Make Amer­i­ca G ­ reat Again” begs a question: ­Great again for who? Blacks, immigrants, ­women, LGBTQ p­ eople, and many other groups certainly d­ on’t want to return to e­ arlier eras. The ideals of 1950s families and notions of simpler times or easier economic conditions for workers are just not accurate reflections of Amer­i­ca’s past. In a new 2016 foreword to her classic The Way We Never W ­ ere: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap, Stephanie Coontz argued that “one ­thing has not changed since my book first appeared in 1992—­the tendency of many Americans to view present-­day f­ amily and gender relations through the foggy lens of nostalgia for a mostly mythical past.”3 Furthermore, she contends that selective memory is “a serious prob­lem when it leads grown-­ups to try to re-­ create a past that ­either never existed at all or whose seemingly attractive features w ­ ere inextricably linked to injustices and restrictions on liberty that few Americans would tolerate ­today.”4 The idea of making Amer­i­ca ­great again falls into this nostalgia trap—­a nd it is an inaccurate reimagining of Amer­i­ca’s history. Amer­i­ca is and can be ­g reat—­that is part of the American Dream. Thinking that we need to return to a mythical past for that greatness is misguided. Instead, we could focus on what values we share as a society and make a better path ­toward the American Dream. At the beginning of chapter 8, I asked, “what would happen if we collectively challenged systemic sexism, racism, and economic inequalities?” Much to my surprise and absolute delight, more ­people are more actively asking this question ­today than when I conducted this book’s research in the period 2003– 2011. However, like in past eras, it took dark moments in the United States to mobilize p­ eople to engage in this grassroots activism. The ­Great Recession motivated grassroots activism in 2011 and 2012, focused on economic inequalities through the Occupy Movement’s protests and student campus activism against the rising costs of higher education. The murders of Trayvon Martin, Oscar Grant, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and countless ­others catalyzed renewed organ­izing against police brutality and the killing of unarmed black men and ­women. The use of hashtags such as #BlackLivesMatter and #SayHerName raised awareness on social media about the racial injustices in our com-

186  •  Reformed American Dreams

munities and criminal justice system. ­These are impor­tant social movements and activism, yet their concerns ­were marginalized or discounted by the media and mainstream politics. This marginalization, in many ways, proved the activists’ point—­blacks and minorities are marginalized, silenced, and killed in our communities simply for living. One black president did not change this fact: Amer­i­ca remains a deeply racist country. ­A fter the election of Trump, many of us felt shocked, saddened, sickened, and angered. ­People poured into the streets in the days ­after the election. ­People who had never participated in a protest, a march, a visit to their elected official, or a grassroots action became engaged. Motivated by the election, grassroots activists and everyday ­people worked together to or­ga­nize inauguration weekend protests, the W ­ omen’s Marches, the March for Science, and other civic protests. Groups like Indivisible helped spur this organ­izing by putting together online how-to resources and helped ­people establish local groups for grassroots actions. As spring 2017 progressed, Congress took up policy issues such as the repeal of the Affordable Care Act, and p­ eople or­ga­nized to save their access to health care. ­People visited their elected officials, crowded into town-­hall meetings, and called their representatives. Visiting politicians took on a new tone. Often constituents w ­ ere not welcomed and took to occupying offices, refusing to leave ­until their voices ­were heard. ­People ­were arrested for trespassing. Politicians ­were caught on mobile phone cameras dodging their constituents outside district offices or town-­hall meetings. Health-­care activism heated up, and many p­ eople went to Washington, D.C., to advocate to protect their health care. Grassroots activists, the el­derly, parents with their ­children, p­ eople in wheelchairs and on crutches, and everyday Americans who used the Affordable Care Act to meet their health care needs expressed their concerns about the policy b­ attle. They wanted their voices heard in the policy debates. They insisted on meeting with their representatives and holding their elected officials accountable for this vote. Many w ­ ere dragged out of the U.S. Capitol in handcuffs and arrested for protesting the pos­si­ble repeal of the Affordable Care Act. This spring, once again, I was disheartened and then surprised. Students, who for de­cades have endured the nightmare of school shootings and threats of gun vio­lence as they try to learn, fi­nally had enough a­ fter another heartbreaking mass school shooting. They took to the streets in the Marches for Our Lives. Even students in elementary school joined in the organ­ization of national and local marches for gun control, protection on our campuses, and their right to learn in a safe environment. Gender activism including reproductive health access, the #metoo movement, and LGBTQ activism are also critical issues and the focus of grassroots actions. Grassroots organ­izing, marches, protests, court b­ attles, and media campaigns are raising awareness of issues of gender equality. ­People are fighting to

Afterword  •  187

ensure that access to rights that have already been de­cided by the Supreme Court do not get taken away. Activists are also fighting for new rights and social ac­cep­tance. The resurgence of activism and grassroots organ­izing has also seen an increase in more diverse populations ­running for po­liti­cal office. New candidates, especially w ­ omen, LGBTQ ­people, and members of racial and ethnic minority groups are joining campaigns or r­ unning for office for the first time. New candidates are challenging incumbents for their seats, jobs, and power. Th ­ ese new candidates are winning. The activism and po­liti­cal engagement that has occurred since I concluded the main research for this book is fundamentally dif­fer­ent from the activism I studied in one primary way: the expansion of social media. During the bulk of LIFETIME’s activism, social media was in its infancy. It did not play a main role in the organ­izing and engagement that LIFETIME did. The use of social media in grassroots organ­izing grew as this research progressed. Social media platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, among many, now play key roles in grassroots organ­izing, activism, po­liti­cal engagement, and po­liti­ cal campaigns. No m ­ atter the method or platform—­the idea is the same—­social media enables activists to engage p­ eople on the issues that affect their lives. This has been a game changer ­because grassroots organ­izing, w ­ hether in person or through platforms such as social media, can energize p­ eople to vote and engage in the demo­cratic pro­cess. Grassroots organ­izing can change public perceptions, raise awareness of injustice, and encourage the fight for social justice. Much like the ­women in my research, the grassroots activists and everyday ­people who have been protesting in the past few years see their protests as a ­matter of fighting for their lives. Th ­ ese are not abstract or distant policy debates. ­These are core issues that affect p­ eople’s everyday lives—­access to affordable health care and reproductive ser­vices, laws about who you can love or marry, immigration policies and border crossings, paying for a higher education, meeting your families’ basics needs for a home and food, and safety at school and in our communities. When we think of the American Dream, all of ­these issues play a role. I finished this book in Guanajuato, Mexico during June and July 2018. I was in Mexico when the news broke about families being separated at the U.S.-­ Mexican border. I was sick, disgusted, and outraged at my country’s leaders. I  felt disheartened that current politicians so misunderstood border issues, immigration dynamics, and world history that they had resorted to such horrific mea­sures. I have engaged in many conversations with Mexican and American friends ­here about U.S. politics;, immigration policies; our interconnected economies; and, yes, Trump. Cynicism and disbelief about current U.S. social policy is rampant h ­ ere. A common sentiment, and one that I deeply agree with, is that we need to fix many social prob­lems in the United States, but the cur-

188  •  Reformed American Dreams

rent path is not the one that ­will lead to the changes that are needed. As an academic, I believe in research. Social science research on many of t­ hese issues is actually quite clear. We are not stumbling in the dark. We can use scientific and social science research to create evidence-­based policies, policies that fix social prob­lems. More than anything, the final point I want to make is that grassroots activism can make a difference in politics and social policy. Involvement in the social policy pro­cess, grassroots organ­izing, and engagement in mainstream politics changes the narrative. Big money and traditional mind-­sets do not have to win. All politics are personal and local. Supporting ourselves and our families, engaging in meaningful work, accessing health care, pursuing education, and contributing to our communities—­these are core values that many everyday ­people, in this research and across the Amer­i­cas, agree on. Use your voice to be loud about the issues you care about. Get involved. Use your talents, strength, time, or resources. Make a difference. The w ­ omen in this research do. I try to. You can, too. We w ­ ill, together.

Appendix A

Methods Appendix Throughout this book, I continuously discussed the research methods that I  used to conduct this study. Therefore, this appendix ­will pre­sent just a few more details, decisions, and discussions of the methods employed. This book started with my dissertation research in 2003. Most gradu­ate students have heard this advice: Choose a dissertation topic that you are passionate about so that you ­won’t get bored with it before you finish. Well, I took that to heart. I finished the dissertation in 2008 and kept ­going! I have worked on this proj­ect for fifteen years, through three rounds of data collection. Qualitative interviewing, focus groups, and participant observation ­were the most appropriate tool to capture the on-­the-­ground narratives and experiences of ­mothers on welfare and in college. I used interviewing to discover their observations, significant life events, and perspectives on higher education and welfare reform. As Robert Atkinson argues, “an individual life, and the role it plays in the larger community, is best understood through story.”1 Qualitative interviewing uncovers individual interviewees’ stories, which when aggregated can collectively provide insight into larger so­cio­log­i­cal issues. Grant McCracken contends that qualitative interviewing “takes us into the ­mental world of the individual, to glimpse the categories and logic by which he or she sees the world.”2 To completely address this study’s research questions, I needed to do more than design the ideal research tool, the interview guide. I also had to be aware of the interactions that occurred during qualitative interviews, focus groups, or participant observation that allowed the full story to evolve. Although most qualitative researchers enter the field with an interview guide, the pro­cess of qualitative research is fluid, changing, and varied. The interview guide informs 189

190  •  Appendix A

the direction of the interview, but qualitative interviews and research are interactions and active pro­cesses. It is the interaction between the researcher and the participant that creates rich qualitative data. No two interviews are the same, just as no two interactions between two ­people are the same. James ­Holstein and Jaber Gubrium argue that “the interview conversation is thus framed as a potential source of bias, error, misunderstanding, or misdirection, a per­sis­tent set of prob­lems to be minimized. The [presumed] corrective is ­simple: If the interviewer merely asks questions properly, the respondent ­will emit the desired information.”3 They argue that instead interviews are sites in which the participant and the interviewer are active and involved in “meaning-­making work” and that participants “are not so much repositories of knowledge—­treasuries of information awaiting excavation—as they are constructors of knowledge in collaboration with the interviewers.”4 Feminist reflections on interviewing techniques also acknowledge the active role of the researcher. Researchers are more than an instrument of data collection during qualitative interviewing; the interactions during the qualitative interview lead to knowledge construction. This knowledge construction, or meaning making, yields dif­fer­ent data than do surveys or lengthy questionnaires. I use grounded theory in my research, most closely aligned to the work of Kathy Charmaz.5 She mentored this proj­ect and me over the course of this research. Initially, I read work by her and other scholars about qualitative methods and grounded theory. As I was developing this proj­ect, I took workshops on grounded theory with her at several conferences. Then, as my data collection started, I received a grant to take a summer intensive course from her. As I was finishing my dissertation, I accepted a position at Sonoma State University (SSU) in the same department with her. Throughout my time at SSU and through phases two and three of the interviews, she mentored me as a se­nior colleague and through SSU’s Faculty Writing Program, which she directed. She has read and commented on many of ­these chapters and my methods throughout this proj­ect. We have also published together on grounded theory.6 The first round of interviews took place from the fall of 2005 through late 2006. I conducted five pi­lot interviews, transcribed them myself, and analyzed them using grounded theory. I changed the interview guide slightly and started conducting more interviews. I continued ­until I had enough data that I was not finding new patterns in my analy­sis, which is the threshold for grounded theory research.7 ­Human subjects institutional review board (IRB) approval came from Vanderbilt University for the first two phases of the interviews and the focus group research. I did the first round of interviews with no funding; participants ­were not paid for their participation. I offered snacks and a beverage at most interviews (I carried a snack bag with me to interviews that had bottled w ­ ater, a c­ ouple of cans of soda, candy bars, granola bars, small bags of chips, and apples in it). Additionally, to show my appreciation to the m ­ others

Appendix A  •  191

for participating in the interviews, I bought two $50 gift cards to Target with my own money and held a drawing for participants at the end of this round of research. I conducted the drawing at a meeting of parent leaders of Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME), to which I also brought a sheet cake to as a thank-­you pre­sent to the members of the organ­ ization for their help. One of the two winners was pre­sent; I did not read the name of other winner aloud, choosing to keep the name confidential and contact her ­later. More specific details about the methods used in this phase of research are in my dissertation.8 From the beginning, I intended this to be a longitudinal study. The original consent form included a question asking for permission to contact the participant in the ­f uture for additional interviews. All participants said yes. As happens in most longitudinal studies, I could not locate or get in touch with some participants a­ fter our first interview. In 2008, I successfully contacted and interviewed twenty-­five of the original forty-­five interview participants. With a small National Science Foundation grant, I paid participants $35 and provided them with lunch for participating in the interview. In 2011, with a grant from the National Poverty Center and IRB approval from SSU, I started a final round of interviews with participants. In the spring of 2011, I was able to contact more of the original participants than I had been in 2008. This was due to two f­ actors: social media and help from the advocates who first introduced me to the w ­ omen. I have been active on Facebook since 2006, and over the course of the research some of the w ­ omen who participated have sent me friend requests. I never sent any research participant a friend request, but I did accept theirs. Starting in January 2011, I tried to contact w ­ omen through the email addresses and phone numbers I had for them. If that did not work, I sent short Facebook messages to participants about the research and a reminder of who I was. My profile picture at that time was a clear photo of my face to help them remember. I also had a small grant and gave each interviewee a $40 Amazon gift card. Between the contact information provided to me during ­earlier phases of the research and this approach, I completed more interviews in 2011 than in 2008. This study’s 78  ­percent retention rate is notable for both qualitative research and research with marginalized populations. LIFETIME, along with all of the other recruitment sites, provided “site permission” letters in support of my initial IRB application for ­human subjects research. At the time the research started, LIFETIME served over 300 advocacy clients a year, and its organ­izing work included approximately 200 active members and more than 2,000 supporters or less active members. LIFETIME involved low-­income parents throughout California, but ­because it was located in Oakland, about 60 ­percent of LIFETIME’s participants lived in San Francisco Bay Area counties.

192  •  Appendix A

Interviews in all three phases lasted from just ­under a half-­hour to more than three hours, with most of the first interviews being 80–90 minutes, second interviews 45–120 minutes (most 55–60 minutes), and third interviews 25–180 minutes (typically 45 minutes). An interview guide was used for each phase of interviews, but overall the interviews w ­ ere semi­structured. The guide initiated the interview pro­cess, but often the participants took the interviews in their own directions and answered the questions more fully than if the interviews had been structured more tightly. All first interviews w ­ ere conducted in person, most second interviews ­were in person (two ­were by phone), and half of the third interviews ­were in person (the rest ­were by phone). The in-­person interviews ­were conducted in a variety of locations, depending upon what was con­ve­nient for the participant and what facilities we had access to. Locations for the first interviews ­were chosen to allow privacy; however, when that was not pos­si­ble, we used public places where anonymity created privacy. Most often, first interviews ­were conducted on the campuses: in the advocacy office; in study rooms at libraries, cafeterias, and student lounges; or at local restaurants and coffee shops. A few interviews ­were conducted at ­either my h ­ ouse or the participant’s home. Two interviews ­were conducted at the participant’s place of work. Fi­nally, a few interviews w ­ ere conducted at LIFETIME’s office, in the sound-­isolated case-­management room. The second interviews ­were conducted primarily in restaurants and cafés of the participants’ choice b­ ecause of a grant that allowed for the purchasing of hospitality for participants. The third interviews ­were more likely to be in the participants’ homes, by phone, in their places of work, or in coffee shops. In a few cases, we met at the same café or restaurant that we had used for the second interview. In all cases, participants guided the location se­lection to find a place that was most con­ve­nient and comfortable for them. Often c­ hildren w ­ ere pre­sent during the interviews. Several times interview participants introduced me to prospective interviewees on campus or at LIFETIME events, enabling me to use snowball sampling. ­These introductions w ­ ere invaluable to my recruitment efforts and usually involved the first participant conveying how much she had enjoyed participating in the interview and how I “got it” when discussing welfare issues. This was very impor­tant, especially when recruiting parents at the bachelor’s degree level or ­those with more complicated paths onto welfare and into higher education, b­ ecause many of them w ­ ere cautious about participating in academic research about welfare. Recruitment for the focus groups happened in a similar way, through contacts at the local community colleges and with LIFETIME, with a few variations (­these included assistance from campus staff members in recruiting and arranging for the focus group to occur a­ fter mandatory meetings, due to the need to get all participants in the same place at the same time). Participants in the focus groups ­were paid a small amount for their time, and this incentive

Appendix A  •  193

was mentioned on the recruitment materials. The first two focus groups ­were stratified by county, with one held in San Francisco and the other in Alameda County; they took place at community colleges and w ­ ere held in meeting rooms on campus. The third focus group was with parent members of LIFETIME and was held in the conference room at the organ­ization’s office. I used the same focus group guide for all three groups. The three focus groups each lasted 1.75– 2.5 hours. The focus group discussions centered on participants’ experiences ­under welfare reform, their use of resources, and their policy suggestions, and although the discussion did not directly inquire about the w ­ omen’s life histories, they brought up many of their experiences in the conversation. Interviews and focus groups ­were audiorecorded (except for two first interviews), and only twice did participants request that the recording be turned off for a few moments. The recordings w ­ ere transcribed verbatim and entered into ATLAS.ti qualitative data software (versions 4–6; Berlin, Germany) for coding and grounded theory analy­sis. During the course of the research, I lived in the community9 and both worked and volunteered with LIFETIME. I came to know about half of my research participants (LIFETIME participants and t­ hose not involved in the organ­ization) outside of the formal interviews and focus groups through planning meetings, trainings and workshops, po­liti­cal actions and protests, conferences, and everyday interactions in the organ­ization’s office or on the vari­ous campuses (which I frequently visited). During t­hese interactions, I was a researcher but also a coworker, fellow student, neighbor, and fellow activist. Most participants knew I was married, did not have any ­children, and had never been on welfare. When they asked me personal questions, I answered them openly and truthfully. I became friends with a small handful of the ­women who participated in this study, and we occasionally engaged in social activities such as g­ oing out for lunch or coffee, attending occasional parties (to celebrate graduations, holidays, or c­ hildren’s birthdays), sharing rides, or chatting ­after work or events. I worked hard to maintain ethical and respectful bound­aries in my research, and ­there ­were only a few times when this was difficult. I wrote about one of ­those instances in chapter 7, with Princess. This was the only time in the research that I outright gave a participant more money than was outlined in the consent forms. On another occasion, a m ­ other asked me if she could have the rest of the contents of my snack bag for her c­ hildren’s lunch that week. I gave her the w ­ hole t­ hing, including the tote bag. A few other times I helped participants with resumes or preparing for a job interview, provided rides to Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) stations or home from an event if I had my car, or read over a draft of a paper for school. ­Toward the end of writing my dissertation, Betty and I worked side by side in coffee shops while she was writing her master’s degree final proj­ect. We provided support for one another at a very stressful time

194  •  Appendix A

for both of us. When I left the Bay Area in 2014, I went out to lunch or coffee with several of the ­women to say goodbye before I moved. ­A fter I moved to Houston, Texas, I went through a traumatic time and a hard divorce. Some of the ­women reached out to me, offering comfort and help. They knew what I was ­going through, and I am thankful to them. We remain in touch by email and Facebook.

Appendix B

Profiles of Interview Participants in 2006

195

Age

39 29 25 37 46 27 33 23 30 25 37 41 18 30 42 27 38 32 21 35 20 40 28

Pseudonym

1. Jasmine 2. Misha 3. Alexis 4. Lele 5. D 6. RBS 7. Nicole 8. Jane 9. Marie 10. Monique 11. Sally 12. Barbara 13. Angela 14. Twitch 15. Dena 16. Taz 17. Mercedes 18. Gloria 19. LaToya 20. Princess 21. Keisha 22. Lele J. 23. Courtney

White/Latina Black Latina Black Black Filipino Black Black White Black Asian Pacific Islander Black Latina Black White Black Latina Latina Black Italian Black Black White

Race/ethnicitya

3 1 1 5 3 1 1 1 2 1 2 1 1 1 1 2 4 3 1 2 1b 2 4

Kids

Domestic vio­lence Unexpected pregnancy Unexpected pregnancy Domestic vio­lence Domestic vio­lence Unemployment Unexpected pregnancy Unexpected pregnancy Unexpected pregnancy Unemployment Substance abuse Unemployment Teen pregnancy Domestic vio­lence Later-­life pregnancy Teen pregnancy Domestic vio­lence Domestic vio­lence Teen pregnancy Domestic vio­lence Teen pregnancy Unemployment Substance abuse

Pathway

AA completed AA current BA current AA current AA current AA current AA current AA current BA completed AA current AA current AA current AA current BA completed AA current AA current BA completed AA current AA current AA current AA current AA current AA current

Degree

Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda

County of residence

Leader No No Leader Leader Potential Leader No Leader No Leader No No Leader Client No Leader Client No No No Leader Potential

Advocacy

29 31 37 34 Mid-40s 39 42 41 45 34 30 Late 30s 31 30 29 39 35 31 Mid-30s Early 40s Early 30s 33

White Latina White White Black Black Rus­sian Israeli Jew White Latina Latina White Black Asian Pacific Islander Latina White White White Black Latina Black Black Black

1b 4 1 2 4 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 1 3 1 1 2b 3 3 1 3 2

Substance abuse Teen pregnancy Substance abuse Substance abuse Substance abuse Domestic vio­lence Domestic vio­lence Substance abuse Later-­life pregnancy Unemployment Unexpected pregnancy Domestic vio­lence Unexpected pregnancy Unmarried partners Unexpected pregnancy Substance abuse Unmarried partners Teen pregnancy Domestic vio­lence Later-­life pregnancy Domestic vio­lence Domestic vio­lence

BA current BA current AA enrolling BA current AA current MBA current AA current BA enrolling BA completed AA current AA current BA current AA current AA current BA current MSW current AA current BS current BA current MSW completed BS completed BA completed

Alameda Alameda Contra Costa Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda Alameda San Francisco San Francisco San Francisco San Francisco San Francisco San Francisco San Francisco Alameda San Francisco Santa Clara Alameda San Francisco Contra Costa Alameda

These w ­ omen w ­ ere pregnant at the time of the interview. So, the number of c­ hildren was the number of current c­ hildren, but was expected to increase soon.

All race/ethnicity information was provided by the interview participants.

b  

a

24. Michelle 25. MMM 26. Jewel 27. Rebecca 28. Trisha 29. Phoebe 30. Kelly 31. Mindy 32. Nancy 33. Mariposa 34. Vanessa 35. T 36. Jade 37. Lucy 38. Daria 39. Betty 40. Nicole C. 41. Faith 42. Grace 43. Robin 44. Sydney 45. Tony

No No No Client Leader Leader No Client Leader No No No Leader No Client Leader No Leader Client Client Leader Leader

Acknowl­edgments My acknowl­edgments could be as long as the book itself; I want to express my deepest gratitude to every­one who made this proj­ect pos­si­ble, especially t­ hose listed below. Your support, guidance, and advice made this research pos­si­ble. First and most importantly, I want to thank Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME) and the w ­ omen who shared their stories. You gave your time, the most precious of resources, and I am so grateful for that, along with your willingness to share your stories and experiences with me. Thank you to Sally Stickney, Mildred Lewis, Tracey Faulkner, and Alice Jordan for introducing me to w ­ omen on your campuses. To LIFETIME’s directors, Diana Spatz and Anita Rees, and all of LIFETIME’s staff members and parent leaders, thank you for your support and guidance. You graciously taught me about California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs), Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF), grassroots organ­izing, and the complicated terrain that is California politics. To all ­those involved with LIFETIME, your leadership on ­these issues is vital, innovative, and effective; you are making a difference daily in p­ eoples’ lives. My deepest gratitude to my dissertation chair, Karen Campbell, for your mentoring, which challenged me to achieve more than I thought was pos­si­ble. You worked tirelessly to support my efforts, even across a g­ reat distance. I want to convey my gratefulness to the other members of my dissertation committee—­ Laura Carpenter, Daniel Cornfield, and Brooke Ackerly. Thank you for your detailed comments, encouragement, suggestions, advice, and long-­distance support. Your engagement with my work is appreciated more than I can express. My deepest gratitude goes to Kathy Charmaz, Melinda Milligan, Cindy Stearns, and James Dean for your mentoring at Sonoma State University (SSU) during the early phase of my ­career. I want to express my heartfelt appreciation 199

200  •  Acknowl­edgments

to SSU’s Faculty Writing Program, with Kathy’s outstanding leadership, and all of the members through the years who read many versions of many of my chapters. To my writing and accountability partner, Jessica Taft, thank you for simply every­thing. My deepest thanks to Lindsay Kee, Autumn Green, Celina Paquette, and Melissa Guerra for being more than friends—­you are my ­sisters. Over the many years of this proj­ect, several p­ eople have worked to give me research support and assistance. I particularly want to thank Sarah Gillett, Jessica Muscatell Burris, and Laura Livesey. To my mentors at the University of Houston, Xavia Karner, Samantha Kwan, and Amanda Baumle, thank you for helping me focus on finishing this! Thank you to Robert Hauhart for suggestions and extensive comments about the American Dream and writing books. To Avigail Oren, my deepest appreciation for your keen eye, sharp and funny comments, and encouragement through editing to finish this manuscript. To Rutgers University Press, particularly Peter Mickulas, thank you for giving this book a home. To the reviewers of this proj­ect, my appreciation to you for helpful comments and insights. My ­family . . . ​you have provided me with love, support, and encouragement along this path. Dad, you showed me how to lay a solid foundation of hard work and determination and carefully complete each step t­ oward my goal. Mom, through your innovative spirit, you taught me to take risks and follow my dreams, even if they are not always what is expected of me. Although my grandparents Patricia and Harry Baker are no longer with us, their love, support, and pride still affects me daily. My grand­father was a u­ nion or­ga­nizer, who fought for living wages and fair working conditions throughout his life; he taught me that the collective voice is louder than individual ones. One of my favorite memories of my grand­father was one of the last times I saw him. He had been released from the hospital to travel to Nashville for my master’s degree graduation, and ­after the ceremony we walked downtown along the river, talking about my work. That eve­ning, we both understood for this first time that my passion for ending poverty was a continuation of his work for fair ­labor practices. He told me how proud he was of me and to keep fighting for common ­people. Furthermore, my grand­mother, who was never able to complete more than an elementary school education, became one of my fiercest supporters in my desire to go as far as I can in my education. She instilled in me a bullheaded determination that kept me ­going many times through this pro­cess. Dan, I try to tell you ­every day how much you mean to me, but ­here in print, let me say it again. Thank you for being my partner, my spouse, and my friend. I love you. We have a beautiful pre­sent and an amazing f­ uture together filled with books, food, cats, and travel. Funding for this proj­ect came from many sources since 2005. This dissertation portion of this research was supported by the National Science Foundation,

Acknowl­edgments  •  201

u­ nder Grant No. SES-0727624, and a Vanderbilt University Dissertation Enhancement Grant. In 2011, this proj­ect was supported by the National Poverty Center, using funds received from the U.S. Department of Health and ­Human Ser­vices, Office of the Assistant Secretary for Planning and Evaluation, Grant No. 1 U01 AE000002-03. The opinions and conclusions expressed herein are solely t­ hose of the author and should not be construed as representing the opinions or policy of any agency of the federal government. Internal grants from Sonoma State University and the University of Houston supported phases of the research, summer salary, research assistance, and final editing. Fi­nally, in 2016, the American Association of University ­Women (AAUW) National American Publication Fellowship helped finish the book. This book was supported and encouraged by many p­ eople in many places for many years. Thank you for being a part of my life and helping me to write about t­ hese issues.

Notes Introduction 1 Sharon Hays, Flat Broke with C ­ hildren: W ­ omen in the Age of Welfare Reform (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 1. 2 Jennifer Hochschild, Race, Class, and the Soul of the Nation: Facing up to the American Dream (repr., Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1995), 159. 3 Sara Goldrick-­R ab, “On Scholarly Activism,” Contexts (blog), December 4, 2014, https://­contexts​.­org​/­blog​/­on​-­scholarly​-­activism​/­.

Chapter 1  Reforming the American Dream 1 Jennifer Hochschild, Race, Class, and the Soul of the Nation: Facing up to the American Dream (repr., Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1995), 17–23. 2 Kathleen Shaw, Sara Goldrick-­R ab, Christopher Mazzeo, and Jerry Jacobs, Putting Poor ­People to Work: How the Work First Idea Eroded College Access for the Poor (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2006), 3; Paul Attewell and David E. Lavin, Passing the Torch: Does Higher Education Pay Off across the Generations? (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2007). 3 National Forum on Higher Education for the Public Good, “A Common Agenda,” Educational Publishing (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2003). 4 Jim Cullen, The American Dream: A Short History of an Idea That ­Shaped a Nation, 9th ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 60. 5 James Truslow Adams, The Epic of Amer­i­ca (Garden City, NY: Garden City Books, 1931), 317. 6 Robert C. Hauhart, Seeking the American Dream: A So­cio­log­i­cal Inquiry (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 68. 7 Hauhart, 69. 8 Leslie Wolfe and Jennifer Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings: The Impact of Welfare Reform on the College Aspirations of Low-­Income W ­ omen” (Washington: Center for W ­ omen Policy Studies, 2001), 7.

203

204  •  Notes to Pages 14–19

9 Sheila Katz, “TANF’s 15th Anniversary and the G ­ reat Recession: Are Low-­ Income M ­ others Celebrating Upward Economic Mobility?,” Sociology Compass 6, no. 8 (2012): 657–670. 10 Katz. 11 Tonya Mitchell, “If I Survive, It ­Will Be Despite Welfare Reform: Reflections of a Former Welfare Student,” in Reclaiming Class: W ­ omen, Poverty, and the Promise of Higher Education in Amer­i­ca, ed. Vivyan Adair and Sandra Dahlberg (Philadelphia: T ­ emple University Press, 2003), 118. 12 Maura Kelly, “Regulating the Reproduction and Mothering of Poor ­Women: The Controlling Image of the Welfare M ­ other in Tele­vi­sion News Coverage of Welfare Reform,” Journal of Poverty 14, no. 1 (2010): 77. 13 Kelly. 14 Elaine Bell Kaplan, Not Our Kind of Girl: Unravelling the Myths of Black Teenage Motherhood (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997). 15 Yvonne Luna, “Single Welfare ­Mothers’ Re­sis­tance,” Journal of Poverty 13, no. 4 (2009): 442. 16 Gwendolyn Mink and Rickie Solinger, eds., Welfare: A Documentary History of U.S. Policy and Politics (New York: New York University Press, 2003). 17 Mink and Solinger. 18 Mimi Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of ­Women (Boston: South End Press, 1999). 19 Mink and Solinger, Welfare. 20 Mink and Solinger, 89. 21 Mink and Solinger. 22 Jill Quadagno, The Color of Welfare: How Racism Undermined the War on Poverty, rev. ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996). 23 Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of ­Women. 24 Mink and Solinger, Welfare. 25 Mink and Solinger, 195. 26 Mink and Solinger, 196. 27 Mink and Solinger. 28 Felicia Kornbluh, The B ­ attle for Welfare Rights: Politics and Poverty in Modern Amer­i­ca (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007). 29 Mink and Solinger, Welfare. 3 0 Jason DeParle, American Dream: Three ­Women, Ten Kids, and A Nation’s Drive to End Welfare (repr., New York: Penguin Books, 2005). 31 DeParle, American Dream. 32 Shaw et al., Putting Poor ­People to Work, 21. 3 3 Shaw et al. 3 4 Shaw et al., 24. 3 5 Attewell and Lavin, Passing the Torch, 3. 36 DeParle, American Dream. 37 Mary Jo Bane and David R. Ellwood, Welfare Realities: From Rhe­toric to Reform (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996). 3 8 DeParle, American Dream, 100. 39 Quoted in DeParle, 4. 4 0 Shaw et al., Putting Poor ­People to Work, 28. 41 Shaw et al., 28.

Notes to Pages 19–22  •  205

42 David Ellwood, Poor Support: Poverty and the American F ­ amily (New York: Basic Books, 1988), 4. 4 3 Lawrence Mead, Beyond Entitlement: The Social Obligations of Citizenship (New York: F ­ ree Press, 2008), 209. 4 4 Two-­parent families also implied that the parents w ­ ere heterosexual and married to each other. Office of ­Family Assistance, “About TANF,” last reviewed June 28, 2017, https://­w ww​.­acf​.­hhs​.­gov​/­ofa​/­programs​/­tanf​/­about. 45 Gwendolyn Mink, “Violating ­Women: Rights Abuses in the Welfare Police State,” in Losing Ground, ed. Randy Albelda and Ann Withorn (Brooklyn, NY: South End Press, 2002), 300. 4 6 Office of F ­ amily Assistance, “About TANF.” 47 Mary Corcoran, Sandra Danzinger, Ariel Kalil, and Kristin Seefedt, “How Welfare Reform Is Affecting ­Women’s Work,” Annual Review of Sociology 26, no. 1 (2000): 241–265. 4 8 Corcoran et al., “How Welfare Reform Is Affecting W ­ omen’s Work,” 249. 49 Alice O’Connor, “Poverty Research and Policy for the Post-­Welfare Era,” Annual Review of Sociology 26, no. 1 (2000): 551. 50 Corcoran et al., “How Welfare Reform Is Affecting W ­ omen’s Work.” 51 Corcoran et al. 52 Diana Pearce and Jennifer Brooks, “The Self-­Sufficiency Standard for California” (Washington: Wider Opportunities for ­Women, 2003), 17. 53 Gregory Acs, Katherin Ross Phillips, and Daniel Mc­Ken­zie, “Playing By the Rules But Losing the Game: Amer­i­ca’s Working Poor” (Washington: Urban Institute, 2000), 2, https://­w ww​.u­ rban​.­org​/­sites​/­default​/­fi les​/­publication​/­63901​/­410404​ -­Playing​-­By​-­the​-­Rules​-­But​-­Losing​-­the​-­Game​.­pdf. 5 4 U.S. Department of ­Labor, U.S. Bureau of ­Labor Statistics, “A Profile of the Working Poor, 2003,” (Washington: Department of L ­ abor, 2005), 1, https://­w ww​ .­bls​.­gov​/­opub​/­reports​/­working​-­poor​/­archive​/­workingpoor​_­2003​.p­ df. 55 Carmen DeNavas-­Walt, Bernadette D. Proctor, and Jessica Smith, “Income, Poverty, and Health Insurance Coverage in the United States: 2006” (Washington: U.S. Census Bureau, August 2007), https://­w ww2​.­census​.­gov​/­library​ /­publications​/­2007​/­demo​/­p60​-­233​/­p60​-­233​.­pdf. 56 DeNavas-­Walt, Proctor, and Smith, “Income, Poverty, and Health Insurance Coverage in the United States.” 57 O’Connor, “Poverty Research and Policy for the Post-­Welfare Era,” 548. 5 8 Cynthia Negrey, Stacie Carolyn Golin, Sunhwa Lee, Holly Mead, and Barbara Gault, “Working First but Working Poor: The Need for Education and Training Following Welfare Reform” (Washington: Institute for W ­ omen’s Policy Research, 2002); California Bud­get Proj­ect, “Moving beyond Welfare: What Do We Know about Former CalWORKs Recipients” (Sacramento: California Bud­get Proj­ect, 2003). 59 Robert Moffitt, “From Welfare to Work: What the Evidence Shows” (Washington: Brookings Institute, 2002), 1. 6 0 Kathryn J. Edin and H. Luke Shaefer, $2.00 a Day: Living on Almost Nothing in Amer­i­ca (New York: Mari­ner Books, 2016). 61 United Nations ­Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner, “Statement on Visit to the USA, by Professor Philip Alston, United Nations Special Rapporteur on extreme poverty and ­human rights” (December 15, 2017), https://­w ww​.­ohchr​ .­org​/­EN​/­NewsEvents​/­Pages​/­DisplayNews​.­aspx​?­NewsID​=­22533.

206  •  Notes to Pages 22–25

62 Maria Cancian, Robert Haveman, T. Kaplan, D. Meyer, Barbara Wolf, “Work, Earnings, and Well-­Being ­a fter Welfare: What Do We Know?,” in Economic Conditions and Welfare Reform: What Are the Early Lessons?, ed. Sheldon H. Danziger (Kalamazoo, MI: W. E. Upjohn Institute for Employment Research, 1999), 323. 6 3 Corcoran et al., “How Welfare Reform Is Affecting W ­ omen’s Work,” 250. 6 4 Jilynn Stevens, “Active Voices: The Higher Education Experiences of Welfare Recipients” (New York: Federation of Protestant Welfare Agencies, 2003), 7. 65 Susan J. Lambert, “Lessons from the Policy World: How the Economy, Work Supports, and Education ­Matter for Low-­Income Workers,” Work and Occupations 36, no. 1 (2009): 56–65. 66 Sandra S. Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Rebekah Smith, “Securing Higher Education for Low-­Income W ­ omen on Welfare in Maine,” in Shut Out: Low Income ­Mothers and Higher Education in Post-­Welfare Amer­i­ca, ed. Valerie Polakow, Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Peggy Kahn (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004), 217. 67 Charles Price, “A Summary of Conference Proceedings” (Washington: Gallaudet University, 1999), 6. 6 8 Shanta Pandey, Min Zhan, Susan Neely-­Barnes, and Natasha Menon, “The Higher Education Option for Poor ­Women with ­Children,” Journal of Sociology and Social Welfare 27, no. 4 (2000): 117. 69 Lizzy Ratner, “Failing Low Income Students: Education and Training in the Age of Welfare Reform,” in Shut Out: Low Income ­Mothers and Higher Education in Post-­Welfare Amer­i­ca, ed. Valerie Polakow, Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Peggy Kahn (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004), 45–46. 70 Stevens, “Active Voices,” 7. 71 Avis Jones-­DeWeever and Barbara Gault, “Resilient and Reaching for More: Challenges and Benefits of Higher Education for Welfare Participants and Their ­Children” (Washington: Institute for ­Women’s Policy Research, 2006), 8. 72 Valerie Polakow, Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Peggy Kahn, introduction to Shut Out, 7. 73 Pearce and Brooks, “The Self-­Sufficiency Standard for California.” 74 United States Department of ­Labor, Bureau of ­Labor Statistics, “The Employment Situation—­October 2011” (Washington D.C.: United States Department of ­Labor, 2011). 75 Marilyn Gittell, Jill Gross, and Jennifer Holdaway, “Building ­Human Capital: The Impact of Post-­Secondary Education on AFDC Recipients in 5 States” (New York Howard Samuels State Management and Policy Center at the City University of New York, 1993); Anita Mathur, “From Jobs to C ­ areers: How California Community College Credentials Pay Off for Welfare Participants” (Washington: Center for Law and Social Policy, 2004). 76 Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital,” 6–7. 77 Price, “A Summary of Conference Proceedings.” 78 Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital.” 79 Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway. 8 0 Mathur, “From Jobs to ­Careers.” 81 Mathur, 21. 82 Mathur. 8 3 Mathur.

Notes to Pages 25–27  •  207

84 Mathur, 26. 85 Erika Kates, “More than Survival: Access to Higher Education for Low-­Income ­Women” (Washington: Center for ­Women Policy Studies, 1991); Stevens, “Active Voices”; Wolfe and Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings”; Marilyn Gittell and Janice Moore, “Denying In­de­pen­dence: Barriers to the Education of W ­ omen on AFDC,” in Job Training for W ­ omen: The Promise and Limits of Public Policies, ed. Sharon Harlen and Ronnie Steinberg (Philadelphia: ­Temple University Press, 1990), 445–479; Julia Wrigley, “Gender and Education in the Welfare State,” in Education and Gender Equality, ed. Julia Wrigley (Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 1992), 1–24. 86 Stevens, “Active Voices,” 5; Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital.” 87 Wrigley, “Gender and Education in the Welfare State,” 7. 88 Kates, “More than Survival,” 17. 89 Wolfe and Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings”; Gittell and Moore, “Denying In­de­pen­dence.” 90 Jones-­DeWeever and Gault, “Resilient and Reaching for More,” 28. 91 Attewell and Lavin, Passing the Torch, 6. 92 Luisa Deprez and Sandra Butler, “In Defense of W ­ omen’s Economic Security: Securing Access to Higher Education ­under Welfare Reform,” Social Politics 8, no. 2 (2001): 210–227; Pandey et al., “The Higher Education Option for Poor ­Women with ­Children”; Wolfe and Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings.” 93 Deprez and Butler, “In Defense of W ­ omen’s Economic Security”; Stevens, “Active Voices.” 94 Stevens, “Active Voices”; Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital.” 95 Gittell and Moore, “Denying In­de­pen­dence”; Kates, “More than Survival.” 96 Gittell and Moore, “Denying In­de­pen­dence”; Kates, “More than Survival”; Stevens, “Active Voices.” 97 Kates, “More than Survival.” 98 Erika Kates, “Improving Access to Higher Education for AFDC Recipients,” Social Justice 21, no. 1 (1994): 44–49. 99 Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital”; Kates, “Improving Access to Higher Education for AFDC Recipients”; Stevens, “Active Voices”; Wolfe and Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings.” 1 00 Erika Kates, “Escaping Poverty: The Promise of Higher Education,” Society for Research in Child Development 9, no. 1 (1995): 17. 1 01 Kates, “Improving Access to Higher Education for AFDC Recipients” and “Escaping Poverty”; Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital”; Nancy A. Naples, “Bringing Everyday Life to Policy Analy­sis: The Case of White Rural W ­ omen Negotiating College and Welfare,” Journal of Poverty 2, no. 1 (1998): 23–53. 1 02 Kates, “Improving Access to Higher Education for AFDC Recipients,” 47. 1 03 Kates, “Escaping Poverty,” 17. 1 04 Naples, “Bringing Everyday Life to Policy Analy­sis.” 1 05 Naples, 46. 1 06 Jillian M. Duquaine-­Watson, Mothering by Degrees: Single ­Mothers and the Pursuit of Postsecondary Education (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2017).

208  •  Notes to Pages 27–34

107 Autumn R. Green, “Patchwork: Poor ­Women’s Stories of Reweaving the Shredded Safety Net,” Affilia 28, no. 1 (2013): 51–64; and “Babies, Books, and Bootstraps: Low-­Income M ­ others, Material Hardship, Role Strain, and the Quest for Higher Education,” PhD diss., Boston College, 2013. Also see National Center for Student Parent Programs, accessed November 3, 2018, http://­collegewithkids​.­org. 1 08 The exceptions ­here are Green and Duquaine-­Watson, both of whom conducted their research si­mul­ta­neously with mine and published their results ­a fter my research ended. See Green, “Patchwork”; Duquaine-­Watson, Mothering by Degrees. 1 09 Kathy Charmaz, “Grounded Theory,” in Con­temporary Field Research: Perspectives and Formulations, ed. Robert M. Emerson, 2nd ed. (Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press, 2001), 351. 1 10 Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital”; Naples, “Bringing Everyday Life to Policy Analy­sis”; Wolfe and Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings.” 1 11 Gary Becker, “The Concept of ­Human Capital,” in Educational Investment in an Urban Society: Costs, Benefits, and Public Policy, ed. Melvin Levine and Alan Shank (New York: Teachers College Press, 1970), 62. 1 12 Gary Becker, ­Human Capital: A Theoretical and Empirical Analy­sis (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993), 17. 1 13 Becker, ­Human Capital, 18. 1 14 Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital,” 2. 1 15 Shaw et al., Putting Poor ­People to Work, 4. 1 16 Rebecca M. Blank, It Takes a Nation, rev. ed. (Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1998), 4. 1 17 Blank, It Takes a Nation, 82. 1 18 William J. Wilson, When Work Dis­appears: The World of the New Urban Poor (New York: Vintage Books, 1996), xviii. 1 19 Katherine Newman, No Shame in My Game: The Working Poor in the Inner City (New York: Knopf, 1999), 42–43. 1 20 Mark Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged: Why American Poverty Affects Us All (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 179.

Chapter 2  Pathways onto Welfare and into College 1 All of the participants’ names used in the book are pseudonyms chosen by the participants during the first interview. 2 Sharon Hays, Flat Broke with C ­ hildren: W ­ omen in the Age of Welfare Reform (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 29. 3 Joan Acker, “From Sex Roles to Gendered Institutions,” Con­temporary Social Science 21, no. 5 (1992): 567. 4 Kathleen Shaw, Sara Goldrick-­R ab, Christopher Mazzeo, and Jerry Jacobs, Putting Poor ­People to Work: How the Work First Idea Eroded College Access for the Poor (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2006). 5 Krista K. Olson and LaDonna Pavetti, “Personal and F ­ amily Challenges to the Successful Transition from Welfare to Work” (Washington: Urban Institute, 1996). 6 Richard Speiglman, “Addressing Barriers on the Path to Self-­Sufficiency” (San Francisco: Child and F ­ amily Policy Institute of California, 2008).

Notes to Pages 34–37  •  209

7 MDRC was formerly known as the Manpower Demonstration Research Corporation, but it formally changed its name to its acronym in 2003. As seen in MDRC’s website https://­w ww​.­mdrc​.­org​/­about​/­about​-­mdrc​-­overview​-­0. 8 Erika Kates, “Debunking the Myth of the Failure of Education and Training for Welfare Recipients,” in Shut Out: Low Income ­Mothers and Higher Education in Post-­Welfare Amer­i­ca, ed. Valerie Polakow, Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Peggy Kahn (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004), 19–43. 9 Jason DeParle, American Dream: Three ­Women, Ten Kids, and A Nation’s Drive to End Welfare (repr., New York: Penguin Books, 2005), 191. 10 Kates, “Debunking the Myth of the Failure of Education and Training for Welfare Recipients,” 35. 11 Jody Raphael and Richard Tolman, “Trapped by Poverty, Trapped by Abuse” (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1997). 12 Joan Meisel, Daniel Chandler, and Beth Menees-­R ienzi, “Domestic Vio­lence Prevalence and Effects on Employment in Two California TANF Populations,” Vio­lence against ­Women 9, no. 10 (2003): 1191–1212. 13 Raphael and Tolman, “Trapped by Poverty.” 14 Eleanor Lyon, “Welfare, Poverty, and Abused W ­ omen: New Research and Its Implications” (Harrisburg, PA: Pennsylvania Co­a li­tion against Domestic Vio­lence, 2000). 15 Lyon, “Welfare, Poverty, and Abused ­Women.” 16 Jody Raphael and Richard Tolman, “Trapped by Poverty, Trapped by Abuse” (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1997). Lyon also discusses their research Lyon, “Welfare, Poverty, and Abused ­Women,” 2. 17 Raphael and Tolman, “Trapped by Poverty.” 18 Susanne Beechey and Jacqueline Payne, “Surviving Vio­lence and Poverty: A Focus on the Link between Domestic and Sexual Vio­lence, W ­ omen’s Poverty, and Welfare” (Washington: ­Legal Momentum, 2002); Martha Davis and Ruth Brandwein, “The Economics of Abuse: How Vio­lence Perpetuates W ­ omen’s Poverty,” in Battered W ­ omen, ­Children, and Welfare Reform: The Ties That Bind, ed. Ruth A. Brandwein (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1998), 200. 19 Thomas S. Moore and Vicky Selkowe, “Domestic Vio­lence Victims in Transition from Welfare to Work: Barriers to Self-­Sufficiency and the W-2 Response” (Milwaukee: Institute for Wisconsin’s F ­ uture, 1999). 20 Jessica Pearson, Nancy Thoennes, and Esther Ann Griswold, “Child Support and Domestic Vio­lence: The Victims Speak Out,” Vio­lence against ­Women 5, no. 4 (1999): 427–448. 21 Lyon, “Welfare, Poverty, and Abused ­Women.” 22 Lele’s situation—­being required to pay child support for c­ hildren she had lost custody of b­ ecause she was a victim of domestic vio­lence—is not that unusual. Child Protective Ser­vices, part of the California Department of Social Ser­vices, can declare a m ­ other unfit if she refuses to leave an abusive relationship. The ­children can be placed in foster care or with another f­ amily member (sometimes, as in this case, the paternal grandparents), often with visitation rights granted to the ­father. Then the m ­ other, the victim of the abuse, must pay child support to the Department for their ­children. This policy leaves many w ­ omen unable to become financially stable ­a fter losing custody of their ­children, and without being financially stable they are unable to get their ­children back. Since ­mothers often

210  •  Notes to Pages 38–46

23

24 25 26 27 28 29

30 31 32 33 34 35

have younger ­children in their custody, they typically go onto welfare and fight for custody of their older c­ hildren. At the suggestion of one of my dissertation committee members in 2008, I thought further about the role of shelter advocates in getting w ­ omen onto welfare. Ola Barnett, Cindy Miller-­Perrin, and Robin Perrin found that one of the top priorities of shelter staff members was to help w ­ omen get onto welfare to become eco­nom­ically in­de­pen­dent from their abusers. In my research, about one-­third of the ­women who experienced domestic vio­lence sought help from a domestic vio­lence shelter, one-­third did not, and it was not clear in one-­third of the cases ­whether or not the w ­ oman had used a domestic vio­lence shelter. Seeking help from such a shelter is an impor­tant ele­ment in the trajectory of ­women fleeing domestic vio­lence and g­ oing onto welfare. However, the domestic vio­lence pathway in my research illustrates the mechanisms through which ­women got onto welfare and into higher education. The role of the domestic vio­lence shelter staff members no doubt remains impor­tant, but it is not apparently a key mechanism by which the ­women in my study got both onto welfare and into higher education. See Ola Barnett, Cindy Miller-­Perrin, and Robin Perrin, ­Family Vio­lence across the Lifespan: An Introduction 2nd ed. (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, Inc., 2005). The cycle of vio­lence is discussed by many, including Lenore Walker, who was an early advocate for the use of this term. See Lenore E. A. Walker, The Battered ­Woman Syndrome (New York: HarperCollins, 1979). Sudha Shetty and Janice Kaguyutan, “Immigrant Victims of Domestic Vio­lence: Cultural Challenges and Available L ­ egal Protections” (Harrisburg, PA: VAWnet, National Online Research Center on Vio­lence against ­Women, 2002). Leslye Orloff and Rachel ­Little, “Somewhere to Turn: Making Domestic Vio­lence Ser­vices Accessible to Battered Immigrant ­Women” (Washington: Ayuda, 1999). Edna Erez, “Immigration, Culture Conflict and Domestic Violence/Woman Battering,” Crime Prevention and Community Safety 2, no. 1 (2000): 27–36. From the “Immigrant W ­ omen Toolbox” on the F ­ amily Vio­lence Prevention Fund’s website at http://­w ww​.­endabuse​.­org​/p­ rograms​/­display​.­php3​?­DocID​=­318 (site discontinued). Although I removed the names of most of the specific schools from the w ­ omen’s narratives, I chose to leave in references to UC Berkeley ­because of the perceived prestige of the school and the role that plays in the ­women’s narratives and identities as UC Berkeley students and gradu­ates. Kathryn Edin and Maria Kefalas, Promises I Can Keep: Why Poor W ­ omen Put Motherhood before Marriage, 2nd rev. ed. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007), 37. Edin and Kefalas, Promises I Can Keep, 47. Naomi Farber, “The Significance of Aspirations among Unmarried Adolescent ­Mothers,” Social Ser­vice Review 63, no. 4 (1989): 519. Frank Furstenberg, “No Silver Bullet: New 30-­Year Study Shows That Preventing Teenage Childbearing ­Won’t Cure Poverty,” in Council on Con­temporary Families (Urbana: University of Illinois, 2008), 1. National Campaign to End Teen Pregnancy, “This Is My Real­ity: The Price of Sex” (Washington: National Campaign to End Teen Pregnancy, 2004), 4. Edin and Kefalas, Promises I Can Keep, 171–172.

Notes to Pages 48–64  •  211

36 House Ways and Means Committee, “Appendix M—­Data on Nonmarital Births to Adults and Teen­agers and Federal Strategies to Reduce Nonmarital Pregnancies” (Washington: United States House of Representatives, 2003). 37 House Ways and Means Committee, “Appendix M,” 8. 3 8 Edin and Kefalas, Promises I Can Keep. 39 Edin and Kefalas, 207. 4 0 Edin and Kefalas, 37. 41 Andrew S. Gruber, “Promoting Long-­Term Self-­Sufficiency for Welfare Recipients: Post-­Secondary Education and the Welfare to Work Requirement,” Northwestern University Law Review 93, no. 1 (1998): 247–299. 42 Gregory Acs, Katherin Ross Phillips, and Daniel Mc­Ken­zie, “Playing by the Rules but Losing the Game: Amer­i­ca’s Working Poor” (Washington: Urban Institute, 2000), https://­w ww​.­urban​.­org​/­sites​/­default​/­fi les​/­publication​/­63901​/­410404​ -­Playing​-­By​-­the​-­Rules​-­But​-­Losing​-­the​-­Game​.­pdf. 4 3 Daniel Chandler and Joan Meisel, “CalWORKs Proj­ect Research: Alcohol and Other Drugs, M ­ ental Health, and Domestic Vio­lence Issues” (Sacramento, CA: California Institute of M ­ ental Health, 2002). 4 4 Harold A. Pollack, Sheldon Danziger, Kristin S. Seefeldt, and Rukmalie Jayakody, “Substance Use among Welfare Recipients: Trends and Policy Responses,” Social Ser­vice Review 76, no. 2 (2002): 256–274. 45 Pollack et al., “Substance Use among Welfare Recipients.” 4 6 She earned her MSW degree in May 2008. 47 Speiglman, “Addressing Barriers on the Path to Self-­Sufficiency.” 4 8 Speiglman. 49 Signe-­Mary McKernan and Caroline Ratcliffe, “Transition Events in the Dynamics of Poverty” (Washington: Urban Institute, 2002). 50 Heather Boushey and David Rosnick, “For Welfare Reform to Work, Jobs Must Be Available” (Washington: Center for Economic and Policy Research, 2004). 51 Boushey and Rosnick, “For Welfare Reform to Work, Jobs Must Be Available.” 52 Edin and Kefalas, Promises I Can Keep; Andrew Cherlin, Caitlin Cross-­Barnet, Linda M. Burton, and Raymond Garrett-­Peters, “Promises They Can Keep: Low-­Income W ­ omen’s Attitudes ­toward Motherhood, Marriage, and Divorce,” Journal of Marriage F ­ amily 70, no. 4 (2008 November 1): 919–933. 53 Edin and Kefalas, Promises I Can Keep, 115. 5 4 Hays, Flat Broke with C ­ hildren; Edin and Kefalas, Promises I Can Keep. 55 Mark Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged: Why American Poverty Affects Us All (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005). 56 Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken,” published as the first poem in his collection Mountain Interval (New York: Henry Holt, 1916).

Chapter 3  Reformed Grassroots Activism 1 Although the LIFETIME event was in no way directly connected to this organ­ization, the basic idea was inspired by the Clothesline Proj­ect (http://­w ww​ .­theclotheslineproject​.­org). 2 Leslie Wolfe and Jennifer Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings: The Impact of Welfare Reform on the College Aspirations of Low-­Income W ­ omen” (Washington: Center for W ­ omen Policy Studies, 2001), 12.

212  •  Notes to Pages 64–79

3 Marilyn Gittell, Jill Gross, and Jennifer Holdaway, “Building ­Human Capital: The Impact of Post-­Secondary Education on AFDC Recipients in 5 States” (New York: Howard Samuels State Management and Policy Center at the City University of New York, 1993). 4 Anita Mathur, “From Jobs to ­Careers: How California Community College Credentials Pay Off for Welfare Participants” (Washington: Center for Law and Social Policy, 2004). 5 In addition to the interviews and focus groups that this research is based on, over the course of four years I observed, participated in, and in some cases helped plan and carry out events with LIFETIME. Th ­ ese events included workshops on campuses, one-­and three-­day parent leadership trainings, po­liti­cal empowerment and engagement trainings, legislative briefings and visits with policy makers in Washington and Sacramento, policy working group meetings, protest actions and po­liti­cal theatre, and grassroots convenings and conferences. 6 During the time of this research, LIFETIME was influential in changing many policies on the county and state level and affecting federal TANF reauthorization. At the county level in Alameda and San Francisco, the organ­ization fought for and won welfare parents’ right to count homework and study time in their weekly welfare-­to-­work hours. At the state level it worked on several bills to increase access to education and job training programs for welfare families and fought to protect cost-­of-­living adjustments to welfare cash grants in the yearly state bud­get negotiations. It aimed to hold the state accountable for providing the education and job training programs and support resources required by law as part of CalWORKs. 7 Mimi Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of ­Women (Boston: South End Press, 1999). 8 Carol Hardy-­Fanta, Latino Politics: Gender, Culture, and Po­liti­cal Participation in Boston (Philadelphia: ­Temple University Press, 1993), 3. 9 LIFETIME’s directors began to use this term for their work and suggested that I look into the concept when I was writing this chapter for my dissertation in 2008. 10 Michael Reisch and Janice Andrews, The Road Not Taken: A History of Radical Social Work in the United States (New York: Routledge, 2002), 6. 11 When one of LIFETIME’s directors read an e­ arlier version of this chapter, she was interested in the concept of oppositional consciousness and requested more information on it. She said that she felt as if this was what she and her colleagues ­were ­doing, but they had not known that it had a specific name. 12 Jane Mansbridge, “The Making of Oppositional Consciousness,” in Oppositional Consciousness: The Subjective Roots of Social Protest, ed. Jane Mansbridge and Aldon Morris (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 5. 13 Mansbridge, “The Making of Oppositional Consciousness,” 5. 14 For more on this, see Sheila Katz, “Welfare M ­ others’ Grassroots Activism for Economic Justice,” Con­temporary Social Science 12, nos. 1–2 (2017): 96–109. 15 Although much of the recruitment for this study was done through LIFETIME, it is also unusual for w ­ omen to complete bachelor’s and master’s degrees while on welfare without advocacy assistance. 16 For example, see Sharon Hays, Flat Broke with C ­ hildren: W ­ omen in the Age of Welfare Reform (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004); Tonya Mitchell, “If I Survive, It W ­ ill Be Despite Welfare Reform: Reflections of a Former Welfare Student,” in Reclaiming Class: W ­ omen, Poverty, and the Promise of Higher

Notes to Pages 79–85  •  213

Education in Amer­i­ca, ed. Vivyan Adair and Sandra Dahlberg (Philadelphia: ­Temple University Press, 2003), 113–118. 17 Katherine Newman, No Shame in My Game: The Working Poor in the Inner City (New York: Knopf, 1999). 18 One of LIFETIME’s directors told me she felt that some of the ­mothers who got most involved with LIFETIME w ­ ere ­those who resisted the shaming before they got involved with the organ­ization. LIFETIME’s framework for discussing shaming may have resonated with them and inspired them to become more involved as a result.

Chapter 4  Survival through College 1 The prevailing idea ­behind this is that ­women on welfare who are enrolled in higher education are highly motivated, ­will “make it” without welfare, and thus do not need the assistance. One of the themes of the TANF reauthorization is to further restrict access to higher education and job training. In the TANF interim final rule issued in June 2006, the Department of Health and H ­ uman Ser­vices stated that, “In par­tic­u­lar, the TANF program was not intended to be a college scholarship program for post secondary education” (see http://­w ww​.­acf​.h ­ hs​.­gov​ /­programs​/­ofa​/­law​-r­ eg​/­tfinrule​.­html for the full text of the Interim Final Rule). The idea is that although w ­ omen on welfare who are enrolled in higher education are very motivated, they should not be rewarded with a college scholarship just ­because they have c­ hildren. Instead, if they want to pursue higher education, they should be removed from assistance and put on financial aid, mainly loans. 2 Patricia Hill Collins, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment (New York: Routledge, 1990), 92–93. 3 Sharon Hays, Flat Broke with C ­ hildren: W ­ omen in the Age of Welfare Reform (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 39. 4 Catherine Kohler Riessman, Narrative Analy­sis (Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1993), 5. 5 Melissa Latimer, “A View from the Bottom: Former Welfare Recipients Evaluate the System,” Journal of Poverty 12, no. 1 (2008): 78. 6 James Scott, Domination and The Arts of Re­sis­tance: Hidden Transcripts (repr., New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992). 7 Scott, Domination and The Art of Re­sis­tance, 21. 8 Yvonne Luna, “Single Welfare ­Mothers’ Re­sis­tance,” Journal of Poverty 13, no. 4 (2009): 442. 9 ­There is a vast lit­er­a­ture on the survival narratives of Holocaust survivors, and any discussion of survival narratives attributes framing to ­those narratives (see, for example, James Young, Writing and Rewriting the Holocaust: Narrative and the Consequences of Interpretation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990); Lawrence Langer, Holocaust Testimonies: The Ruins of Memories (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1991); Zoe Waxman, ­Women in the Holocaust: A Feminist History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). However, surviving poverty is dif­fer­ent ­because it is an economic survival, instead of a literal fight for life. This chapter engages the current lit­er­a­ture on economic survival narratives and positions itself alongside that lit­er­a­ture, of which Kathryn Edin and Laura Lein’s Making Ends Meet: How Single ­Mothers Survive Welfare and Low-­Wage Work (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1997) is a primary example.

214  •  Notes to Pages 85–101

10 Luisa Deprez and Sandra Butler, “In Defense of W ­ omen’s Economic Security: Securing Access to Higher Education ­under Welfare Reform,” Social Politics 8, no. 2 (2001): 210–227; Marilyn Gittell, Jill Gross, and Jennifer Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital: The Impact of Post-­Secondary Education on AFDC Recipients in 5 States” (New York: Howard Samuels State Management and Policy Center at the City University of New York, 1993); Andrew S. Gruber, “Promoting Long-­Term Self-­Sufficiency for Welfare Recipients: Post-­Secondary Education and the Welfare to Work Requirement,” Northwestern University Law Review 93, no. 1 (1998): 247–299; Avis Jones-­DeWeever and Barbara Gault, “Resilient and Reaching for More: Challenges and Benefits of Higher Education for Welfare Participants and Their ­Children” (Washington: Institute for ­Women’s Policy Research, 2006); Sheila Katz, “Welfare M ­ others Pursuing Higher Education During the G ­ reat Recession: Implications for TANF Reauthorization” (poster presented at the U.S. Department of Health and ­Human Ser­vices’ Welfare Research and Evaluation Conference, Washington, D.C., June 2011); Anita Mathur, “Welfare Reform, Education, and In­equality: A Closer Look at Public Assistance Recipients in California Community Colleges” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 2008); Leslie J. Turner, “The Returns to Higher Education for Colorado Works Recipients” (Denver, CO: Colorado Department of H ­ uman Ser­vices, 2011). 11 Miriam J. Stewart, Edward Makwarimba, Linda Reutter, Gerry Veenstra, Dennis Raphael, and Rhonda Love, “Poverty, Sense of Belonging and Experiences of Social Isolation,” Journal of Poverty 13, no. 2 (2009): 173. 12 Diana Spatz, Jodi Berger, and Tamu K. Hamed, “Welfare Reform and the College Option in California: Lesson Learned,” Clearing House Review 34 (2000): 459–476. 13 Kevin Miller, “Single Parents Face Financial Difficulties, Debt, without Adequate Aid” (Washington: Institute for W ­ omen’s Policy Research, 2012). 14 Erika Kates, “More than Survival: Access to Higher Education for Low-­Income ­Women” (Washington: Center for ­Women Policy Studies, 1991). 15 Luna, “Single Welfare M ­ others’ Re­sis­tance.” 16 Luna, 444. 17 Sandra Barnes, “A Case Study of the Working Poor Single M ­ other Experience: An Analy­sis of the Structure versus Agency Discourse,” Journal of Poverty 12, no. 2 (2008): 175–200. 18 Jones-­DeWeever and Gault, “Resilient and Reaching for More.” 19 Department of Health and ­Human Ser­vices, “HHS Federal Poverty Guidelines” (Washington: Department of Health and H ­ uman Ser­vices, 2006), 36460. 20 LIFETIME’s directors told me that they had been told by con­sul­tants to the California Senate’s Bud­get Committee, the California Assembly’s Health and ­Human Ser­vices Committee, and aides to legislators on several occasions not to talk about education and training programs for ­mothers on welfare b­ ecause it is an “unsympathetic issue.” Republican lawmakers on ­those committees believe that welfare is not a scholarship program (a commonly used phrase) and that m ­ others on welfare who are pursuing higher education are highly motivated and would go to school even if welfare w ­ ere not supporting them. Instead, the con­sul­tants and aides tell LIFETIME’s directors that the m ­ others who participate in legislative visits should downplay their role as students to gain credibility as average ­mothers on welfare. However, the directors of LIFETIME argue that ­these ­women are

Notes to Pages 101–123  •  215

average w ­ omen on welfare, and that given the chance, most welfare parents would be successful in community college. This research supports LIFETIME’s directors’ position, b­ ecause many of the w ­ omen in this study ­were identified as having multiple barriers to employment and told that they ­were not college material by caseworkers who tried to get them to quit school. 21 Gittell, Gross, and Holdaway, “Building H ­ uman Capital”; Jones-­DeWeever and Gault, “Resilient and Reaching for More”; Katz, “Welfare M ­ others Pursuing Higher Education”; Anita Mathur, “From Jobs to C ­ areers: How California Community College Credentials Pay Off for Welfare Participants” (Washington: Center for Law and Social Policy, 2004). 22 Scott, Domination, 4. 23 Sheila Katz, “TANF’s 15th Anniversary and the G ­ reat Recession: Are Low-­ Income M ­ others Celebrating Upward Economic Mobility?,” Sociology Compass 6, no. 8 (2012): 657–670.

Chapter 5  My Education Means Every­thing to Me 1 Marilyn Gittell, Jill Gross, and Jennifer Holdaway, “Building ­Human Capital: The Impact of Post-­Secondary Education on AFDC Recipients in 5 States” (New York: Howard Samuels State Management and Policy Center at the City University of New York, 1993); Erika Kates, “More than Survival: Access to Higher Education for Low-­Income W ­ omen” (Washington: Center for W ­ omen Policy Studies, 1991); Anita Mathur, “From Jobs to C ­ areers: How California Community College Credentials Pay Off for Welfare Participants” (Washington: Center for Law and Social Policy, 2004); Leslie Wolfe and Jennifer Tucker, “Clipping Our Wings: The Impact of Welfare Reform on the College Aspirations of Low-­Income W ­ omen” (Washington: Center for W ­ omen Policy Studies, 2001). 2 Katherine Magnuson, “The Effects of Increases in Welfare M ­ others’ Education on Their Young C ­ hildren’s Academic and Behavioral Outcomes: Evidence from the National Evaluation of the Welfare-­to-­Work Strategies Child Outcome Study” (Madison, WI: Institute for Research on Poverty, 2003). 3 Christopher Jencks, In­equality: A Reassessment of the Effect of ­Family and Schooling in Amer­i­ca (New York: Basic Books, 1981). 4 Magnuson, “Effects of Increases in Welfare ­Mothers’ Education.” 5 Jere Cohen, “Parents as Educational Models and Definers,” Journal of Marriage and the F ­ amily 49, no. 2 (1987): 339–351. 6 Jewel was referring to the tokens that Alcoholics Anonymous gives out to participants who have been sober or clean for set amounts of time. 7 Jewel was answering the question “what does your son say about you g­ oing to school?” and her answer combined her son’s responses to her pursuing higher education and her pro­gress t­ oward sobriety. She completed her drug and alcohol treatment program and then enrolled in a job training program. As soon as she graduated from that, she enrolled in an associate’s degree program. ­Because of the fluidity of her pro­cess of getting clean and enrolling in educational programs, it may be difficult to separate her son’s feelings about each individual step on this path. 8 American Association of University ­Women, Gaining a Foothold: W ­ omen’s Transitions through Work and College (Washington: American Association of University ­Women, 1999).

216  •  Notes to Pages 127–147

Chapter 6  Hope and Fear during the ­Great Recession 1 U.S. Department of ­Labor, Bureau of ­Labor Statistics, “A Profile of the Working Poor, 2000” (Washington: Department of ­Labor, 2002), https://­w ww​.­bls​.­gov​/­cps​ /­cpswp2000​.­htm; U.S. Department of ­Labor, U.S. Bureau of ­Labor Statistics, “A Profile of the Working Poor, 2010” (Washington: Department of L ­ abor, 2012), https://­w ww​.b­ ls​.­gov​/­opub​/r­ eports​/w ­ orking​-p­ oor​/­archive​/­workingpoor​_­2010​.­pdf. 2 David B. Grusky, Bruce Western, and Christopher Wimer, eds., introduction to The G ­ reat Recession (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2011), 4. 3 Grusky, Western, and Wimer, introduction, 4. 4 Michael Hout, Asaf Levanon, and Erin Cumberworth, “Job Loss and Unemploy­ reat Recesssion, ed. David Grusky, Bruce Western, and Christopher ment,” in The G Wimer (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2011), 61. 5 Heidi Hartmann and Jeff Hayes, “The Job Loss Tsunami of the G ­ reat Recession: Wave Recedes for Men, Not for W ­ omen: Quick Figures” (Washington: Institute for ­Women’s Policy Research, 2011). 6 Jeff Hayes and Heidi Hartmann, “­Women and Men Living on the Edge: Economic Insecurity a­ fter the ­Great Recession” (Washington: Institute for W ­ omen’s Policy Research, 2011). 7 See the discussion of this issue in Kathryn J. Edin and H. Luke Shaefer, $2.00 a Day: Living on Almost Nothing in Amer­i­ca (New York: Mari­ner Books, 2016). 8 Ellen R ­ eese, They Say Cut Back, We Say Fight Back! Welfare Activism in an Era of Retrenchment (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2011), 7. 9 James Kaminski, “Trends in Welfare Caseloads” (Washington: Urban Institute, 2011). 10 Gordon L. Berlin, “Rethinking Welfare in the ­Great Recession: Issues in the Reauthorization of Temporary Assistance for Needy Families: Testimony of Gordon L. Berlin, President, MDRC, before the Senate Finance Committee” (New York: MDRC, September 21, 2010, 3), https://­w ww​.­mdrc​.­org​/­sites​/­default​ /­fi les​/­Rethinking%20Welfare%20in%20the%20Great%20Recession​.­pdf. This was also discussed in ­Legal Momentum, “Welfare Reform at Age 15: A Vanis­hing Safety Net for ­Women and ­Children” (New York: L ­ egal Momentum, 2011), http://­w ww​.n ­ cdsv​.­org​/­images​/­LM​_W ­ elfareReformat15VanishingSafetyNet​_4 ­ ​ -­2011​.­pdf. 11 ­Reese, They Say Cut Back. 12 ­Reese, 11. 13 See, for example, Michael Lounsbury and Paul M. Hirsch, eds., Markets on Trial: The Economic Sociology of the U.S. Financial Crisis (Bingley, UK: Emerald Group Publishing, 2010). 14 Grusky, Western, and Wimer, eds., The G ­ reat Recession. 15 Judith Hennessy, “Morality and Work-­Family Conflict in the Lives of Poor and Low-­Income ­Women,” So­cio­log­i­cal Quarterly 50, no. 4 (2009): 557–580. 16 Kerry C. Woodward, Pimping the Welfare System: Empowering Participants with Economic, Social, and Cultural Capital (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2013).

Chapter 7  Graduating into the G ­ reat Recession 1 Grant funding for social ser­vice programs during the ­Great Recession decreased significantly at the same time that demand for ser­vices increased dramatically.

Notes to Pages 150–152  •  217

2 3 4 5 6 7 8

9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Therefore, many grant-­f unded positions ­were reduced, paid low salaries, expected unpaid overtime, did not include benefits such as health care or paid time off, or ­were cut altogether. Susan J. Lambert, “Lessons from the Policy World: How the Economy, Work Supports, and Education ­Matter for Low-­Income Workers,” Work and Occupations 36, no. 1 (2009): 56–65. Sarah Brauner and Pamela Loprest, “Where Are They Now? What States’ Studies of ­People Who Left Welfare Tell Us,” (Washington: Urban Institute, 1999). Lambert, “Lessons From the Policy World,” 62. David B. Grusky, Bruce Western, and Christopher Wimer, eds., The G ­ reat Recession (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2011). Jennie Brand and Xie Yu, “Who Benefits the Most from College: Evidence for Negative Se­lection in Heterogeneous Economic Returns to Higher Education,” American So­cio­log­i­cal Review 75, no. 2 (2010): 273–302. Carmen DeNavas-­Walt, Bernadette D. Proctor, and Jessica C. Smith, “Income, Poverty, and Health Insurance Coverage in the United States: 2011” (Washington: U.S. Census Bureau, 2012), https://­w ww​.­census​.­gov​/­prod​/­2012pubs​/­p60​-­243​.­pdf. California Bud­get Proj­ect, “Moving beyond Welfare: What Do We Know about Former CalWORKs Recipients” (Sacramento, CA: California Bud­get Proj­ect, 2003); Jeff Hayes and Heidi Hartmann, “­Women and Men Living on the Edge: Economic Insecurity a­ fter the ­Great Recession” (Washington: Institute for ­Women’s Policy Research, 2011). Marilyn Gittell, Jill Gross, and Jennifer Holdaway, “Building ­Human Capital: The Impact of Post-­Secondary Education on AFDC Recipients in 5 States” (New York: Howard Samuels State Management and Policy Center at the City University of New York, 1993); Anita Mathur, “From Jobs to C ­ areers: How California Community College Credentials Pay Off for Welfare Participants” (Washington: Center for Law and Social Policy, 2004); Valerie Polakow, Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Peggy Kahn, introduction to Shut Out: Low Income ­Mothers and Higher Education in Post-­Welfare Amer­i­ca, ed. Valerie Polakow, Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Peggy Kahn (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004), 1–17. Hayes and Hartmann, “­Women and Men Living on the Edge,” 1. U.S. Department of ­Labor, Bureau of ­Labor Statistics, “The Employment Situation—­October 2011” (Washington: Department of ­Labor, 2011), https://­ www​.­bls​.­gov​/n ­ ews​.r­ elease​/­archives​/­empsit​_­11042011​.­pdf. Michael Hout, Asaf Levanon, and Erin Cumberworth, “Job Loss and Unemploy­ reat Recesssion, ed. David Grusky, Bruce Western, and Christopher ment,” in The G Wimer (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2011), 73–74. DeNavas-­Walt, Proctor, and Smith, “Income, Poverty, and Health Insurance Coverage in the United States: 2011.” DeNavas-­Walt, Proctor, and Smith. Hout, Levanon, and Cumberworth, “Job Loss and Unemployment”; DeNavas-­ Walt, Proctor, and Smith, “Income, Poverty, and Health Insurance Coverage in the United States: 2011.” Hout, Levanon, and Cumberworth, “Job Loss and Unemployment.” DeNavas-­Walt, Proctor, and Smith, “Income, Poverty, and Health Insurance Coverage in the United States: 2011.”

218  •  Notes to Pages 152–181

18 Sheila Katz, “TANF’s 15th Anniversary and the G ­ reat Recession: Are Low-­ Income M ­ others Celebrating Upward Economic Mobility?,” Sociology Compass 6, no. 8 (2012): 657–670. 19 U.S. Department of ­Labor, U.S. Bureau of ­Labor Statistics, “A Profile of the Working Poor, 2010” (Washington: United States Department of L ­ abor, 2012), 1, https://­w ww​.­bls​.­gov​/­opub​/­reports​/­working​-­poor​/­archive​/­workingpoor​_­2010​ .­pdf. 20 U.S. Department of ­Labor, Bureau of ­Labor Statistics, “A Profile of the Working Poor, 2000” (Washington: Department of ­Labor, 2002), https://­w ww​.­bls​.­gov​/­cps​ /­cpswp2000​.­htm; U.S. Department of ­Labor, “A Profile of the Working Poor, 2010.” 21 Thomas Kochan, “­Will Workers Benefit from This Economic Recovery?,” Work and Occupations 37, no. 1 (2010): 37–44. 22 Regina S. Baker, Linda M. Burton, “Between a Rock and a Hard Place: Socio-­ Economic (iM) Mobility among Low-­Income M ­ others of ­Children with Disabilities,” in Marginalized ­Mothers, Mothering from the Margins, ed. Katrina Block and Tiffany Taylor (Bingley, UK: Emerald Publishing, 2018), 284. 23 Kochan, “­Will Workers Benefit from This Economic Recovery?,” 39. 24 Hout, Levanon, and Cumberworth, “Job Loss and Unemployment”; DeNavas-­ Walt, Proctor, and Smith, “Income, Poverty, and Health Insurance Coverage in the United States: 2011.” 25 Hout, Levanon, and Cumberworth, “Job Loss and Unemployment.” 26 This is illustrated in Jane Collins and Victoria Mayer, Both Hands Tied: Welfare Reform and the Race to the Bottom in the Low-­Wage L ­ abor Market (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010). 27 See appendix A for a further discussion of this. 28 Mark Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged: Why American Poverty Affects Us All (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005). 29 H. Luke Schaefer and Kathryn Edin, “Extreme Poverty in the United States, 1996–2011” (Ann Arbor: National Poverty Center at the University of Michigan, 2012).

Chapter 8  An American Dream for All 1 James Truslow Adams, The Epic of Amer­i­ca (Garden City, NY: Garden City Books, 1931), 317. 2 See Margaret Sherraden and Amanda Moore McBride, Striving to Save: Creating Policies for Financial Security of Low-­Income Families (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2010). 3 Mark Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged: Why American Poverty Affects Us All (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005). 4 Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged. 5 Rank, 179. 6 Rank. 7 During the height of the technology boom of the 1990s, if the state of California had been its own country, it would have had the fifth largest economy in the world. 8 However, ­there was one policy suggestion that was made by one LIFETIME ­mother (D) and one non-­LIFETIME m ­ other (Barbara). Both w ­ omen suggested

Notes to Page 182  •  219

that university staff members should complete sensitivity or diversity training about working with low-­income and minority students. This policy suggestion was not related to welfare policy, but instead it was directed at colleges’ and universities’ ability to serve low-­income and minority students. Both ­mothers mentioned in their narratives an incident that happened in class between themselves and a faculty member. They felt that some faculty members w ­ ere not fully sensitive to issues of race, class, and gender, specifically as they related to low-­income students in higher education. The two ­mothers ­were at the same community college, and both of them had conversations with the dean ­because of the incident. However, this policy suggestion illustrates that when considering policy suggestions for welfare m ­ others in higher education, welfare policy is not the only arena that needs to be addressed. Higher education policies also need to be included in a discussion of policy changes that affect m ­ others on welfare. 9 Kathryn Edin and Laura Lein, Making Ends Meet: How Single ­Mothers Survive Welfare and Low-­Wage Work (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1997); Avis Jones-­DeWeever and Barbara Gault, “Resilient and Reaching for More: Challenges and Benefits of Higher Education for Welfare Participants and Their ­Children” (Washington: Institute for ­Women’s Policy Research, 2006); Anita Mathur, “From Jobs to ­Careers: How California Community College Credentials Pay Off for Welfare Participants” (Washington: Center for Law and Social Policy, 2004); Gwendolyn Mink, “­A ren’t Poor Single ­Mothers ­Women? Feminists, Welfare Reform, and Welfare Justice,” in Whose Welfare?, ed. Gwendolyn Mink (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999), 288; Valerie Polakow, Sandra Butler, Luisa Deprez, and Peggy Kahn, eds. Shut Out: Low Income ­Mothers and Higher Education in Post-­Welfare Amer­i­ca (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004); Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged; Kathleen Shaw, Sara Goldrick-­R ab, Christopher Mazzeo, and Jerry Jacobs, Putting Poor ­People to Work: How the Work First Idea Eroded College Access for the Poor (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2006). 10 Edin and Lein, Making Ends Meet; Michael B. Katz, The Price of Citizenship: Redefining the American Welfare State (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2001); Mink, “­A ren’t Poor Single ­Mothers W ­ omen?”; Katherine Newman, No Shame in My Game: The Working Poor in the Inner City (New York: Knopf, 1999); Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged; David Shipler, The Working Poor: Invisible in Amer­i­ca (New York: Knopf, 2004). 11 Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged; William J. Wilson, When Work Dis­appears: The World of the New Urban Poor (New York: Vintage Books, 1996). 12 Wilson, When Work Dis­appears. 13 Edin and Lein, Making Ends Meet; Avis Jones-­DeWeever, Janice Peterson, and Xue Song, “Before and A ­ fter Welfare Reform: The Work and Well-­Being of Low-­I ncome Single Parent Families” (Washington: Institute for W ­ omen’s Policy Research, 2003); Mink, “­A ren’t Poor Single ­Mothers ­Women?”; Newman, No Shame in My Game; Jill Quadagno, The Color of Welfare: How Racism Undermined the War on Poverty, rev. ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996); Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged; Lucie White, “Closing the Care Gap That Welfare Reform Left ­Behind,” in Lost Ground: Welfare Reform, Poverty, and Beyond, ed. Randy Albelda, Ann Withorn, and Barbara Ehrenreich (Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 2002), 170–193; Wilson, When Work Dis­appears.

220  •  Notes to Pages 182–191

14 Edin and Lein, Making Ends Meet; Mink, “­A ren’t Poor Single M ­ others W ­ omen?”; Newman, No Shame in My Game; Rank, One Nation, Underprivileged. 15 Suggestion 7 is a l­ ittle more controversial than the ­others, in that one of the goals of the welfare rights movement in the 1960s and 1970s was to remove caseworkers’ discretion in providing aid for families and to instill the idea that welfare was a ­ attle for Welfare Rights: Politics and Poverty in right (Felicia Kornbluh, The B Modern Amer­i­ca [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007]; Gwendolyn Mink and Rickie Solinger, eds., Welfare: A Documentary History of U.S. Policy and Politics [New York: New York University Press, 2003]). As the system currently exists, caseworkers are not social workers and often do not have any more education than the clients that they are serving. In California, caseworkers are required only to have a GED. However, as Rebecca M. Blank also suggests for her Tier 1 case evaluator, some of the caseworkers could have more extensive training and thus more discretion working with clients to meet their needs (It Takes a Nation, rev. ed. [Prince­ton, NJ: Prince­ton University Press, 1998]). 16 As discussed in chapter 1, the drastic decrease in the welfare caseloads did not coincide with a drastic reduction in poverty. The welfare caseloads in 1996 w ­ ere approximately five million families, and in 2006 they ­were just over two million families. But the poverty rates ­were 14 ­percent in 1996 and 12.3 ­percent in 2006.

Afterword 1 Among many, see David Frum, Trumpocracy: The Corruption of the American Republic (New York: HarperCollins, 2018); Katy Tur, Unbelievable: My Front-­ Row Seat to the Craziest Campaign in American History (New York: HarperCollins, 2017). 2 Tur, Unbelievable. 3 Stephanie Coontz, The Way We Never W ­ ere: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap, rev. ed. (New York: Basic Books, 2016), xiv. 4 Coontz, The Way We Never W ­ ere, xv.

Methods Appendix 1 Robert Atkinson, The Life Story Interview (Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications, 1998), 7. 2 Grant McCracken, The Long Interview (Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications, 1988), 9. 3 James A. Holstein and Jaber F. Gubrium, The Active Interview (Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications, 1995), 3. 4 Holstein and Gubrium, The Active Interview, 4. 5 Kathy Charmaz, Constructing Grounded Theory: A Practical Guide through Qualitative Research (London: Sage Publications, 2006). 6 Kathy Charmaz and Sheila Katz, “Subjective Stories and Social Issues: Strategies for Making Connections,” Qualitative Methods in Psy­chol­ogy Bulletin 23 (2017): 8–14. 7 Charmaz, Constructing Grounded Theory. 8 Sheila Katz, “Pursuing a ‘Reformed’ Dream: CalWORKs M ­ others in Higher Education ­a fter ‘Ending Welfare as We Know It’ ” (PhD diss., Vanderbilt University, 2008).

Notes to Page 193  •  221

9 From August 2003 through February 2009, I lived in the University of California, Berkeley’s f­ amily student housing, called the U.C. Village. I was active in the village’s resident association in addition to being active with LIFETIME. LIFETIME had been founded in the village in 1996, and many members of the staff and board have lived t­ here. In addition, two of the study’s participants lived in the village at the same time I did. In February 2009, I moved to downtown Oakland, just blocks from the welfare office. I lived ­there ­until 2014, when I moved to Houston.

Index Abramovitz, Mimi, 65 Acs, Gregory, 21 Adams, James Truslow, 12–13, 169 ADC (The Aid to Dependent ­Children) program: AFDC and, 18; benefits of, 17; creation of, 16; 1962 Social Security amendments and, 17 advocacy support, 9, 65, 164 AFDC (Aid to Families with Dependent ­Children): changes to, 18; defined, ix; postsecondary education and, 24; reform of, 19; replacement of, 14; work and, 20 Affordable Care Act, protesting repeal of, 186 African Americans: challenging oppression, 84; discrimination/exclusion and, 17; Hochschild on paths for, 5; marginalization of, 186; participants, 157–58, 196–97; power of education for, 107; “welfare queen” caricature of, 15 age: campus resources and, 96; child care and, 131; of participants, 7, 196–97; pregnancy and, 43–50; retirement, 171; supportive c­ hildren, 115 Aid to Dependent ­Children, The (ADC) program. See ADC (The Aid to Dependent ­Children) program Aid to Families with Dependent ­Children (AFDC). See AFDC (Aid to Families with Dependent C ­ hildren) Alameda County, California, 7, 23, 45, 74, 193, 196–97, 212n6

American Dream, 4, 5, 8, 11, 167–69; affordable health care, 11, 171, 173; better path t­ oward, 185; central tenets of, 12; collective consciousness and, 8, 12, 168, 169, 171, 173; community participation and, 11, 171, 173; concept of, 12–13; critical assessment of, 11, 13–14, 169–74; demo­cratic engagement and, 11, 173; economic mobility, 11, 173; economic security and, 11, 170–71; evolution of, 167–83, 184–88; experiences in pursuit of, 11, 168, 173; extension of, 167–83; grassroots activism and, 11, 168, 169, 174, 185–88; higher education access expansion, 11, 173; ideology of, 8; job market supports creation, 11, 173; middle-­class security, 11, 173; national safety net possibilities, 11, 129, 166, 168; normative ideals of, 10; optimism of, 13; paradox of, 4; pathways to, 12; perspectives of, 11; perspectives on pursuit of, 11, 168, 173; poverty theory/ poverty policy and, 174–79; pursuit of, 1, 4, 11, 168; reconceptualization of, 169–74; reforming of, 8, 12–31; social policy change and, 11; social policy for equal access to, 182–83; social policy suggestions and, 173, 179–81, 180 ­table 8.1, 181 ­table 8.2; social safety net and, 11, 173; transitional child care, 11, 173; unemployment assistance extension, 11, 173; welfare expansion, 11, 173; welfare reform and, 4–5

223

224  •  Index

American Dream, The (Cullen), 12 application, welfare assistance, 8; activists’ assistance with, 18; African Americans and, 17; prevention of, 17 assumptions: of American Dream, 8, 14; changes in, 21; about low-­income ­women’s morality, 16–19; racist and sexist, 17; about welfare/work relationship, 20, 21 Atkinson, Robert, 189 Attewell, Paul, 18, 25 Barnes, Sandra, 98 Barnett, Ola, 210n23 barriers, 8–9; categories of, 26; to higher education pursuit, 26–27; institutional barriers, 26; success despite, 22; TANF limits to higher education, 25; TANF limits to training programs, 23, 25 Becker, Gary, 29 Beoku-­Betts, Josephine, 1 Berkeley City College, 141–43 #BlackLivesMatter, 185 Blank, Rebecca M., 30, 220n15 block grants, 14 Boushey, Heather, 55 Brooks, Jennifer, 20–21 Brown, Jerry, 184 Brown, Michael, 185 Bush, Andrew, 60–62 Bush administration, 60–62, 63 Butler, Sandra, 23 California Assembly Health and H ­ uman Ser­vices Committee, 214n20 California Community Colleges System, 7, 64, 102 California Department of Social Ser­vices (CDSS), ix, 26, 209n22 California Institute for M ­ ental Health, 36 California Senate Bud­get Committee, 214n20 California State University, 7, 96, 124 California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids (CalWORKs). See CalWORKs (California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids) Cal-­Learn program, 43–44

CalWORKs (California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids): cash welfare and, 20; dependent ­children and, 7; experiences in, 3; implementation of, 14; maximum months for education/job training programs, 23; research participants and, 7; state accountability, 212n6 canaries in a coal mine analogy, 149, 151, 164–65, 166, 168 cap­i­tal­ist values, 8, 11, 12 CARE (Cooperative Agencies Resources for Education), ix, 7, 137, 180 ­table 8.1 ­career advancement: ­career goals, 5, 10, 12, 113, 123, 147; career-­track jobs, 10; increase in, 25; lack of, 21 caregiving, 16, 153, 155, 160 carrot-­and-­stick approach, 20 caseworkers: as barriers to higher education pursuit, 26; caseload decreases, 220n16; caseload reduction credits, 25; ignoring of requests, 126–27; policy suggestions for training of, 220n15; pressure from, 125; racism by, 17, 18; rules and regulations used by, 17, 26; supportive, 93 cash aid: as incentive for marriage, 20, 48; limits of, 25, 135, 178; welfare cash grants, 88, 178, 212n6 CDSS (California Department of Social Ser­vices), ix, 26, 209n22 Chabot Community College, 55, 124, 125, 127 Charmaz, Kathy, 28, 190 child care: funding for, 17; lack of as barrier to higher education pursuit, 26, 27; pressure of balancing with work, 23; social support and, 98; transitional child care, 11 Child Protective Ser­vices (CPS), 53–54, 209n22 ­children: CalWORKS and, 7; child support, 93, 209n22; child welfare ser­vices, 4, 16–22; custody issues, 209n22; “­family cap” policy, 15; federal benefits for, 17; foster care placements, 209n22; higher education pursuit and, 10, 14, 23–24; providing for, 9, 24; role models for, 10, 25, 108–9, 122–23; as supportive of education, 114–16;

Index  •  225

Survivors’ Insurance Program, 16. See also ADC (The Aid to Dependent ­Children) program; AFDC (Aid to Families with Dependent ­Children); CalWORKs (California Work Opportunity and Responsibility to Kids); child care; CPS (Child Protective Ser­vices); pregnancy City College of San Francisco, 141–43 Clinton, William J. “Bill,” 1, 14, 19, 21 Clothesline Proj­ect, 62–63, 211n1 collective consciousness: American Dream and, 8, 12, 168, 169, 171, 173; collective strategies, 84, 89, 123; economic anxiety and, 123; focus groups and, 141; grassroots activism and, 10, 65, 87, 185; qualitative methods and, 189; social policy and, 4 college scholarship programs, 94, 101, 213n1, 214n20 Collins, Patricia Hill, 84, 85, 86 community college: Berkeley City College, 141–43; California Community Colleges System, 7, 64, 102; CalWORKs and, 125–26; caseworker recommendations for, 47, 55; Chabot Community College, 55, 124, 125, 127; City College of San Francisco, 141–43; EOPS and, ix; focus groups, 141–43, 192–93; LIFETIME and, 64–65, 70, 136–37; parent leaders and, 68, 70, 71–72; participants in, 7, 77; policy suggestions and, 175–76; as requirement, 44, 82; support resources, 96, 102, 125–26; transfers to state universities, 10, 96, 127–28; welfare ­mothers and, 18, 27, 33, 38, 106, 141, 215n20, 219n9. See also EOPS (Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices) community ser­vice goals, 113, 123 community support, 26, 94, 96–97 Contra Costa County, California, 139, 197 Coontz, Stephanie, 185 Cooperative Agencies Resources for Education (CARE), ix, 7, 137, 180 ­table 8.1 Corcoran, Mary, 20 CPS (Child Protective Ser­vices), 53–54, 209n22; substance abuse recovery and, 53–54

critical assessment: of American Dream, 169–74; of welfare reform failures, 9 Cullen, Jim, 12 cultural barriers, 26–27 cultural bias, African Americans and, 17 cultural capital: building, 58–59, 112; use of, 6 cultural criteria, of original welfare policy, 16 Cumberworth, Erin, 151 cycle of disadvantage, 18–19 cycle of vio­lence, 210n24 Danzinger, Sandra, 20 Davis, Gray, 184 decision making, 8; American Dream ideology and, 8 Deficit Reduction Act of 2005, 8 degrees, postsecondary: comparison of ­women’s strategy choices and, 27–28; employment opportunities and, 24; wage increases and, 24 demo­cratic engagement, 169, 173, 187; American Dream and, 11 demo­cratic values, 8, 11, 12, 168 DeParle, Jason, 34 Department of Health and ­Human Ser­vices (HHS), 62; on TANF program, 101, 213n1 Department of ­Labor, working poor classification, 21 de­pen­dency, creation of, 19 de­pen­dency of ­women, 16, 17 dependent demographics, 7 Deprez, Luisa, 23 deserving poor, 4, 16–19 deviant be­hav­ior, 10 discriminatory policies, African Americans and, 17 divorce, self-­esteem issues and, 111 domestic vio­lence survival, 9, 210n23; as barrier to employment, 54; child support requirements, 209n22; ­Family Vio­lence Option, 61; immigration and, 39–42; of participants, 196–97; self-­esteem issues and, 111; Vio­lence Against ­Women Act, 62–63; welfare/education pathways and, 9, 32, 42, 105, 209n22, 210n23; welfare ­mothers and, 32, 36–39, 209n22; as welfare pathway, 36–42

226  •  Index

Domination and the Arts of Re­sis­tance (Scott), 85 Duquaine-­Watson, Jillian, 27, 208n108 EARN program, 74 economic conditions: California economy in the 1990s, 218n7; LIFETIME and impacts on, 11 economic costs of higher education pursuit, 9 economic downturn endurance, grassroots activism and advocacy and, 11 economic inequalities: collective challenge to, 185; Occupy movement, 185 economic market, higher education pursuit and, 25 economic mobility: ­a fter higher education, 5, 155; American Dream and, 14; blocking of education pathway to, 14; higher education and, 14; meritocracy and, 12 economic opportunity, grassroots activism and, 11 economic recessions, 1970s, 18. See also ­Great Recession economic security: G ­ reat Recession lessons related to, 11; social policies for, 11 economic self-­sufficiency: assumptions of work and, 20; lack of long-­term, 21–22; living-­wage jobs and, 22 Edin, Kathryn, 43, 46, 48, 50, 57, 213n9 education: expectations of, 10; f­ amily perspectives on, 113–22; institutional goals of, 10; levels of, 24; meanings of, 10, 11; policy changes and, 18; power of, 11; restrictive educational policies, 8; state accountability and, 212n6 education, significance of, 105–6, 123; community ser­vice goals, 113; knowledge expansion, 110–11; ­labor market advancement, 106–8; as role model for ­children, 108–9; self-­esteem increase, 111–12 education access: American Dream and, 13; expansion of, 19; state level bills on, 212n6; TANF limits to, 23 employment: barriers to, 8–9, 215n20; grant-­f unded positions, 217n1; 1962 Social Security amendments stress on,

17; opportunities and postsecondary education, 24 empowerment, 9, 10, 26–27, 88–89, 212n5. See also LIFETIME (Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education) enrollment, higher education, 8–9; national decrease in, 23; of participants, 7; TANF limits to, 25 EOPS (Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices), ix, 7, 44, 69 Epic of Amer­i­ca, The (Adams), 12–13 exclusionary practices, 17 expectations: higher education pursuit and, 10, 122–23; ­labor market advancement, 10; meaning to life, 10; of power of college degree, 10; role models for ­children, 10; self-­empowerment, 10 experiences: during ­Great Recession, 155–64; higher education pursuit and, 10; implications of, 5; research and, 6–8; tools for gathering, 189 Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices (EOPS). See EOPS (Extended Opportunity Programs and Ser­vices) extensions, TANF program and, 7–8 Facebook, 187 “­family cap” policy, 15 ­family relationships: improvement in, 25; minimal support as barrier, 26; mixed views of education, 10, 119–22; perspectives on education, 113–22; resources and, 97–98; romantic partnerships complex views of education, 116–19; supportive c­ hildren, 114–16; supportive families, 125 ­Family Ser­vice Team program, 103 ­Family Support Act of 1988, 19 ­Family Vio­lence Option, 61 feminists, 3; welfare reform discussions, 2 feminist social policy conference (Washington, D.C., 2003), 2–3 financial aid system: as barrier to higher education pursuit, 26; bureaucracy of, 2; lack of as barrier to higher education pursuit, 27; loans, 213n1; student debt loans, 88–89

Index  •  227

Flat Broke with ­Children (Hays), 5 focus groups, 85, 143–45; at Berkeley City College, 141–43; at City College of San Francisco, 141–43 food stamps, 93, 97, 143, 154 Frost, Robert, 60 Furstenberg, Frank, 43 Garner, Eric, 185 Gault, Barbara, 23, 25 GED (General Educational Development) certificates, 32, 43, 44, 133 gendered institutions, 33–34 gender issues: equal opportunity and, 13; gender activism, 186; gendered poverty, 27 Gittell, Marilyn, 24, 29, 64 “giving voice” concept, critique of, 6 GLOW (2017 Netflix series), 15 goals: c­ areer goals, 5, 10, 12, 113, 123, 147; educational goals, 28, 47–48, 63, 83, 90, 92, 109, 112, 114–18, 120–22, 128; institutional goals, 11, 26; personal goals, 90, 109 Goldrick-­R ab, Sara, 6, 18 Grant, Oscar, 185 grants: G ­ reat Recession decrease of funding for, 216n1 (chap. 7); for marriage promotion activities, 20 grassroots activism, 8, 9, 60–64, 81; change and, 188; convenings and conferences, 212n5; economic downturn endurance and, 11; economic opportunity and, 11; experiences and, 5; ­Great Recession and, 136–41; l­ abor market advancement, 11; LIFETIME, 3; LIFETIME and politics of, 64–67; LIFETIME’s peer support, 74–77; motivations for, 185, 186; narrative differences and, 78–81; narratives of, 9; organ­izing involvement, 9; parent leaders, 67–74; postcollege career-­track jobs, 10; potential participants, 77–78; reformed activism, 9, 60–81; restrictive educational policies and, 2; role in m ­ others’ narratives, 27; social justice and, 11; social media and, 187; social media expansion and, 187; social policy change, 11; student parents as, 3

grassroots advocacy, 9; economic downturn endurance and, 11; narratives of, 9; of participants, 196–97 grassroots organ­izations: resurgence of, 186–87; in United States, 7. See also LIFETIME (Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education) grassroots welfare rights movement, start of, 18 ­Great Depression, 13, 22, 127, 150 ­Great Recession, 5, 10, 124–28, 146, 165–66; activism and po­liti­cal engagement during, 136–41; California and, 184; cause and effects of, 128–29; experiences and perspectives during, 155–64; graduating into, 147–66; grant funding decrease, 216n1 (chap. 7); grassroots activism and, 185; home and fear during, 124–46; impacts of, 11, 151–52; lifetime limits on welfare aid, 22; policy creation and, 141–45; societal lessons from, 11; survival and educational meaning in, 130–35 ­Great Recession impacts, 10–11, 147–49, 165–66; employment status, 153 fig. 7.1; experiences and perspectives during ­Great Recession and, 155–64; final interviews in 2011, 149–51; G ­ reat Recession impacts on, 151–52; major financial trou­bles, 161–64; managing but worried, 156–58; m ­ others’ status in 2011, 152–55; participants’ degrees, 152 ­table 7.1, 153 fig. 7.1, 154 fig. 7.2; poverty is poverty, 161; public assistance receipt, 154 fig. 7.2; significant impact but surviving, 159–61; urban ­labor market and, 164–65 Green, Autumn, 27, 208n108 Gross, Jill, 24, 64 grounded theory approach, 6, 8, 190 Grusky, David, 128, 129 Gubrium, Jaber, 190 gun control issue, 186 Hardy-­Fanta, Carol, 65 Hartmann, Heidi, 151 hashtag use, 185 Hauhart, Robert, 13 Hayes, Jeff, 151 Hays, Sharon, 5, 84

228  •  Index

health care, affordable: activism and, 186; American Dream and, 171, 173; availability of, 11; lack of, 21; Medi-Cal, 93, 143, 154, 155, 163 Healthy Marriage Initiative, TANF block grant and, 20 Hennessy, Judith, 129 HHS (Department of Health and ­Human Ser­vices), 62; on TANF program, 101, 213n1 “hidden transcripts,” 85, 89, 92, 101–2 higher education: American Dream and, 1, 4, 12, 14; ­children and, 10; employment opportunities and, 24; of participants, 196–97; policy agenda and, 18; state allowances for, 23; third wave research and, 22; wage increases and, 24; welfare ­mothers and, 23–28. See also ­Great Recession impacts; pathways, higher education higher education access, 8; equal opportunity to, 12; expansion of, 11; restrictions to, 14, 213n1; TANF limits to, 25 higher education enrollment, 8–9; national decrease in, 23; of participants, 7; TANF limits to, 25 higher education institutions: assumptions of, 27; cultural barriers of, 26–27; policy suggestions, 219n8 higher education pursuit, 10; abandonment of, 23; arguments against, 24; ­children’s likelihood of, 25; costs of, 86–89; expectations for, 122–23; f­ actors leading to, 5; ­family perspectives on, 113–22; how and why of, 6; personal costs of, 9; reasons for, 10, 27, 103–5; significance of, 105–13 Hochschild, Jennifer, 5, 12 Holdaway, Jennifer, 24, 64 Holocaust survival narratives, 213n9 Holstein, James, 190 home inspections, 17 hope, 10; Obama and, 128, 140–41, 146; postcollege, 10 Horn, Wade, 62, 63 Hout, Michael, 151 ­human capital: building, 6, 31, 56, 58, 108, 112, 122, 174; investing in, 29, 30, 48, 58 ­human capital theory, 6, 19, 23, 28, 29–30, 56, 108, 174. See also ­human capital

IDA (Individual Development Account) programs, 74–75, 136 immigration: domestic vio­lence and, 39–42; domestic vio­lence survival and, 39–42; immigration statue, 13; restrictive policies, 13, 187 Individual Development Account (IDA) programs. See IDA (Individual Development Account) programs Indivisible, 186 “inside ideas,” 85, 86, 89, 92, 101–2 Instagram, 187 Institute for ­Women’s Policy Research: feminist social policy conference (Washington, D.C., 2001), 2; feminist social policy conference (Washington, D.C., 2003), 2 institutional barriers, 26 interviews: final interviews in 2011, 149–51; methods, 189–94 Jacobs, Jerry, 18 Job Opportunities and Basic Skills (JOBS), ix, 14 JOBS (Job Opportunities and Basic Skills), ix, 14 jobs market: job preparation strategy, 19–20; postcollege career-­track jobs, 10; support creation, 11. See ­labor market advancement job training programs: access restrictions, 213n1; AFDC and, 18; policy changes and, 18; state accountability and, 212n6; state-­level bills on, 212n6; welfare ­mothers and, 18 Jones-­DeWeever, Avis, 23, 25 Kalil, Ariel, 20 Kaplan, Elaine Bell, 15 Kates, Erika, 25, 26–27, 34–35 Kefalas, Maria, 43, 46, 48, 50, 57 Kelly, Maura, 15 King v. Smith (1968), 18 knowledge expansion, 110–11, 123 Kochan, Thomas, 155 ­labor market advancement, 123; community involvement and, 11; as expectation, 10; grassroots activism and, 11; higher

Index  •  229

education and, 12, 22; higher education pursuit and, 10, 25, 106–8; urban l­ abor market and ­Great Recession, 164–65 Lambert, Susan, 22 later-­life pregnancy, 49–50 Latimer, Melissa, 85 Latinas: coping strategies of, 95; discrimination against, 158; participants, 32–33, 41, 44, 47, 49, 56, 74, 77, 158, 159, 170, 196–97; po­liti­cal engagement, 65, 136; study of politics of, 65 Lavin, David, 18, 25 “leaver” studies, 22 ­legal issues: King v. Smith (1968), 18; legislative briefings, 212n5, 214n20 Lein, Laura, 213n9 Levanon, Asaf, 151 LGBTQ activism, 186 LIFETIME (Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education), 3, 9, 81; clients, 9; defined, ix; discouragements from, 215n20; engagement levels, 9; establishment of, 7; events, 212n5; grassroots activism and, 64–67; impact of experiences with, 11; influence of, 212n6; interviews and focus groups, 191–93; legislative visits, 214n20; motto of, 133; narrative differences and, 78–81; oppositional consciousness, 212n11; parent leaders, 9; participants in, 7; peer support of, 74–77; po­liti­cal work, 9; potential participants, 9; protest, 9; research methodology, 212n15; shaming discussions, 213n18 limits: lifetime limits on welfare aid, 21, 22; time-­limits on welfare aid, 10 lived experiences: poverty theory and, 28–31; research and, 6–8 living-­wage jobs, importance of, 22 local welfare departments: de­pen­dency of ­women, 17–18; discouragements from, 26 Losing Ground (Murray), 19 low economic status, blame for, 4 low-­income families, economic upturn, 11 Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education (LIFETIME). See LIFETIME (Low-­Income Families’ Empowerment through Education)

low-­income single m ­ others: higher education opportunities for, 1; welfare reform’s impact on, 2 low-­income students, sensitivity training and, 219n8 low-­income w ­ omen, morality assumptions and, 16–19 Luna, Yvonne, 85, 92 mainstream politics, marginalization by, 185–86 “Make Amer­i­ca ­Great Again” campaign slogan, 185 man-­in-­the-­house rules, 17, 18 Manpower Demonstration Research Corporation (MDRC), 209n7 Mansbridge, Jane, 66 Marches for Our Lives, 186 March for Science, 186 marginalization: “giving voice” concept, 6; of social movements and activism, 185–86 marriage strategy, PRWORA promotion of, 19–20 marriage views, as not deviant, 10 Martin, Trayvon, 185 materialist elements/values, 11; as normative, 8, 12 material needs: American Dream and, 13; meeting, 9; survival strategies and, 9 material support, insufficient, as barriers to higher education pursuit, 27 maternal welfare ser­vices, ADC and, 16 Mathur, Anita, 24, 64 Mazzeo, Christopher, 18 McCracken, Grant, 189 Mc­Ken­zie, Daniel, 21 MDRC (Manpower Demonstration Research Corporation), 209n7 Mead, Lawrence, 19 media, marginalization by, 185–86 Medi-Cal, 93, 143, 154, 155, 163 Menon, Natasha, 23 meritocratic values, 8, 11, 12, 13, 123, 168 middle-­class families: economic security, 11; resentment of, 14 middle-­class values, 8; assumptions of, 14; shift in perspectives of, 18 midlife pregnancy, 46–49

230  •  Index

midnight raids, 17 Miller-­Perrin, Cindy, 210n23 minorities: diversity training and, 219n8; employment opportunities and, 176; marginalization of, 186; participants, 157–58; r­ unning for po­liti­cal office, 187 Mitchell, Tonya, 15 Moffitt, Robert, 21 moral values, 5, 8; of American Dream, 12; comparative analy­sis of, 8, 19; deficient morality argument, 4; low-­income ­women and, 16–19; misrepre­sen­ta­tions of, 4; ­mothers’ reflection on effects on ­children, 10; original welfare policy criteria, 16; prevailing ideas on, 10; survival and, 9 Mothering by Degrees (Duquaine-­Watson), 27 ­mothers, welfare. See welfare ­mothers ­mothers’ benefits, ADC and, 17 ­mother’s benefits, AFDC and, 18 motivations: for higher education pursuit, 10; perspectives on, 10; prevailing ideas on, 213n1 Murray, Charles, 19 musical chairs analogy, 174–76 Naples, Nancy, 27 National Campaign to End Teen Pregnancy, 45 National Center for Student Parent Programs, 27 National House­hold Survey of Drug Use, 51 National Organ­ization of ­Women (NOW), 62 national safety net: demo­cratic/meritocratic ele­ments of American Dream and, 11; possibilities for, 11, 129, 166, 168 National Welfare Rights Organ­ization, 18 Neely-­Barnes, Susan, 23 Newman, Katherine, 30–31, 79 nonmartial births, 19–20, 48 No Shame in My Game (Newman), 79 Not Our Kind of Girl (Kaplan), 15 NOW (National Organ­ization of ­Women), 62

Obama, Barack, 10, 128, 140–41, 146, 149, 186 Occupy Movement, 149, 185 O’Connor, Alice, 20 Office of ­Family Assistance, 61 Olson, Krista, 34 out-­of-­wedlock pregnancies, 19–20, 48 Pandey, Shanta, 23 parent leaders: becoming, 67–74; parent leadership trainings, 212n5; participants as, 74; social policy suggestions of, 81; survival narratives of, 101 participants: bound­aries, 193–94; demographics, 7; focus groups, 192–93; potential participants, 77–78; profiles of, 196–97; recruitment, 7, 191, 192; social policy suggestions of, 179–81 participation, 9; empowerment from, 9; peer-­based emotional and advocacy support from, 9 partnership balancing, 9; complex views of education, 116–19 pathways, American Dream, higher education and, 12, 14 pathways, higher education, 8–9, 32–59, 60–64. See also survival narratives pathways, participant, 196–97 pathways, welfare, 8–9, 32–35, 58; domestic vio­lence, 36–42; substance abuse, 51–54; unemployment, 54–56; unexpected pregnancy, 43–50; unmarried partnerships, 56–58 Pavetti, LaDonna, 34 Pearce, Diana, 20–21 peer support, 9, 65, 74–77, 99 Pennsylvania, cash incentives for marriage, 20 pension policies, ­mothers’, 16 Perrin, Robin, 210n23 Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act (PRWORA) of 1996: defined, ix; goals of, 19, 21; success claims, 21; TANF program and, 1, 14 perspectives: of American Dream, 11; of ­family on higher education pursuit, 10, 113–22; during G ­ reat Recession, 155–64; for higher education pursuit, 10;

Index  •  231

implications of, 5; on life choices, 6; LIFETIME and impacts on, 11; as response to recession, 11; shift in, 18 Phillips, Katherin Ross, 21 police brutality, 185 policy suggestions: caseworker training, 220n15; from LIFETIME m ­ others, 179–81; from non-­LIFETIME ­mothers, 179–81, 181 fig. 8.2; sensitivity/diversity training, 219n8; sensitivity training, 219n8 po­liti­cal engagement, 9; empowerment trainings, 212n5; ­Great Recession and, 136–41; po­liti­cal theatre, 212n5; social media expansion and, 187 politicians: activism and, 186; assumptions of, 14; diverse populations of, 187; shift in perspectives of, 18 politicization of welfare, 17, 19 postcollege experiences: career-­track jobs, 10; grassroots activism and, 10. See ­Great Recession impacts post-­traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 36, 38, 39, 71, 74 poverty, 8; academic theories of, 6, 28; ­a fter welfare, 22; assumptions about work and, 20; blame for, 4; c­ hildren’s likelihood of avoiding, 25; definitions of, 1; enabling to escape, 10; increase in, 11; national poverty rate, 21; personal narratives of, 1–2; poverty-­level wages, 21; survival narratives, 213n9; welfare reform/poverty link, 22; work ethic and, 14; work first policies and, 5. See also ­human capital theory; structural theories of poverty poverty policy, 1, 5; poverty theory and, 174–79 poverty rates: changes in, 21–22; welfare caseloads and, 220n16 poverty theory: lived experiences and, 28–31; poverty policy and, 174–79. See also ­human capital theory; structural theories of poverty pregnancy, 9; later-­life pregnancy, 49–50; midlife pregnancy, 46–49; of participants, 196–97; teen pregnancy, 43–46; unexpected pregnancy, 43–50, 196–97 protest actions, 9, 186, 187, 212n5

PRWORA (Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act) of 1996: defined, ix; goals of, 19, 21; success claims, 21; TANF program and, 1, 14 PTSD (post-­traumatic stress disorder), 36, 38, 39, 71, 74 race/ethnicity: of original welfare policy criteria on, 16; of participants, 196–97 racism: by caseworkers, 17, 18; collective challenge to, 185; in criminal justice system, 185; equal opportunity and, 13; “­family cap” policy, 15; racial injustice awareness, 185–86; ste­reo­t ypes, 14–16; welfare reform policies and, 14–16 radical social ser­vices, 65–66 Rank, Mark, 31, 58, 164, 174–76 Reagan, Ronald, 18 reauthorization: higher education access restrictions, 213n1; job training access restrictions, 213n1; LIFETIME and, 212n6; requirement for, 7; TANF program and, 7–8, 100–101, 178, 179 ­Reese, Ellen, 129 regulations, 4; TANF reauthorization and, 213n1; for welfare receipt, 17 research methodology: chapter overviews, 8–11; current lit­er­a­ture gaps, 27–28; grounded theory approach, 6, 8; interviews, 6–8, 195–97; LIFETIME and, 7, 212n15; lived experiences, 6–8; methods appendix, 189–94; narratives, 8; participants, 6–8, 196–97; qualitative research pro­cess, 189–90; research questions, 5, 189; survival narratives and, 85–86; TANF program and, 7 re­sis­tance, to welfare reform policies, 9, 10, 18 resources, 5; access points for, 97; insufficiency of as barrier, 26–27; participation requirements, 97; sources of financial resources, 97–98; for survival, 9 Riessman, Catherine Kohler, 85 Roo­se­velt, Franklin D., 16, 17 Rosnick, David, 55 same-­sex marriage, restrictive laws on, 13 San Francisco Bay Area, 5–7, 50, 65, 147–48, 160, 191

232  •  Index

San Francisco County, California, 7, 45, 67, 141, 193, 197, 212n6 San Francisco State University, 147 Santa Clara County, California, 197 Santorum, Rick, 61–62 #SayHerName, 185 Schwarzenegger, Arnold, 184 Scott, James, 85, 87, 99, 102 Section 8, 93 Seefedt, Kristin, 20 Seeking the American Dream (Hauhart), 13 self-­empowerment, 10; higher education pursuit and, 10 self-­esteem: building of, 26–27; impacts on, 123; increase in, 25, 111–12 self-­sufficiency, 5, 8–9; assumptions of work and, 20; poverty-­level wages, 21; social policies and, 13 sexism, 14–16, 185 sexuality, equal opportunity and, 13 shame/shaming discussions, 5; culture of, 26–27; externalization of, 9; LIFETIME and, 78–80, 213n18 “shared critique of power,” 85, 87, 99, 101 Shaw, Kathleen, 18, 29 Smith, Rebekah, 23 social activism, marginalization of, 185–86 social capital: building, 58–59, 112; use of, 6 social media: activism and, 187; po­liti­cal engagement and, 187; raising awareness through, 185 social mobility, higher education and, 12 social movements, marginalization of, 185–86 social narratives: of higher education pursuit, 10; role of higher education and, 10 social order, American Dream and, 13 social policies: access restrictions, 13; hard work ethic and, 13; implications for, 5; punitive nature of, 13; shifts in, 1; voice and, 6 social policy change: American Dream and, 169; for equal access, 182–83; grassroots activism, 11; poverty policy and, 174–79; suggestions for, 179–81 social policy failures, 9 social safety net: access to, 22; American Dream and, 8, 11, 14; welfare reform effects on, 22, 178 Social Security Act Amendments of 1939, 16

Social Security Act Amendments of 1956, 17 Social Security Act Amendments of 1962, 17 Social Security Act of 1935, 16 Social Security Disability, 39, 154 social ser­vice programs: ADC and, 17; demand increase, 216n1 (chap. 7); grant funding decrease, 216n1 (chap. 7); from LIFETIME, 74 social structural inequalities, 9, 13 “spend more, demand more” philosophy, 19 Stevens, Jilynn, 22 Stewart, Miriam, 86 structural barriers, 5, 6 structural theories of poverty, 6, 28, 30–31, 174 structural vulnerability theory, 174–76 student parents: activism of, 3; campus resources for, 93–94; programs/ advocates for, 27 substance abuse recovery, 9; as barrier to employment, 53–54; CPS and, 53–54; domestic vio­lence and, 38; health care for, 182; of participants, 196–97; self-­esteem issues and, 111; supportive ­children, 114; welfare/education pathways and, 9, 32, 35, 51–54, 196–97; as welfare pathway, 51–54 Supplemental Security Income (SSI), 93, 154, 160, 161 support resources, 9; availability of, 27; campus resources, lack of, 96; state accountability and, 212n6 survival narratives, 8, 9, 82–84; construction of, 9–10, 89–93; costs of higher education pursuit while on welfare, 86–89; economic survival narratives, 213n9; of Holocaust survivors, 213n9; LIFETIME participation and, 78–81; studies on, 27; study of, 85–86; survival strategies implementation, 93–99; tools for gathering, 189; welfare reform failure and, 101–3; welfare system critiques and, 99–101 survival strategies, 9–10; implementation of, 93–99; moral framework and, 9 Survivors’ Insurance Program, 14–16 TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families) program: cash aid limits, 25; creation of, 1, 14; defined, ix; educational

Index  •  233

access limits, 25; effects on state funding and priorities, 26; higher education enrollment and, 23; lifetime limits on welfare aid, 21; number of families on welfare and, 21; out-­of-­wedlock pregnancies, 19–20, 48; policy uncertainty, 7; postsecondary education allowances, 23; reauthorization, 212n6, 213n1; research methodology and, 7; TANF block grant, 20; vocational education allowance, 23. See also welfare reform teen pregnancy, 43–46 Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF). See TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families) program training program access, 19, 23, 25 transportation issues, 26, 27, 97–98 Trump, Donald, 185, 186, 187 Twitter, 187 two-­parent families, 20, 205n44 undeserving poor, 4, 16–19 unemployment, 9; ­Great Recession and, 128, 151–52, 160; ­Great Recession national levels of, 22; of participants, 196–97; self-­esteem issues and, 111; as welfare pathway, 54–56; welfare reform and, 11, 129 unexpected pregnancy, 43–50, 196–97 United Nations, 22 University of California (UC) Berkley, 7, 64, 96, 176, 210n29 unmarried partnerships, 9, 56–58 urban l­ abor market, 149, 151, 164–65, 166, 168 U.S. Census Bureau, 150, 151 U.S. economy, a­ fter welfare reform, 4 value of education: policies of welfare reform and, 10; reduced expectations of, 11 values, 14, 30, 48, 129; demo­cratic values, 8, 11, 12, 168; of education, 10, 11; of higher education pursuit, 5; meritocratic values, 8, 11, 12, 123, 168; middle-­class values, 8, 12; moral values, 4, 8; national values, 5 Vio­lence Against W ­ omen Act, 62 vocational education: welfare-­to-­work single-­parent participants and, 7; work participation requirements and, 23

Walker, Lenore, cycle of vio­lence, 210n24 Way We Never W ­ ere, The (Coontz), 185 welfare assistance: African Americans and, 17; application for, 8; effective use of, 10; expansion of, 17; lifetime limits on, 21; pathways to, 8–9, 32–59; prevailing ideas on, 213n1 welfare expansion, 11, 17, 19 welfare ­mothers: economic self-­sufficiency, lack of, 22; employment rate of, 24–25; employment status, 153 fig. 7.1; higher education and, 10, 23–28; job training programs, 18; negative depictions of, 18; participants’ degrees, 152 ­table 7.1, 153 fig. 7.1, 154 fig. 7.2; policy suggestions from, 179–81, 180 ­table 8.1, 181 fig. 8.2; public assistance receipt, 154 fig. 7.2; status in 2011, 152–55 welfare policy: activism to improve, 3; deserving vs. undeserving poor distinction, 16; original welfare policy, 16 welfare reform: American Dream and, 4–5, 13; institutional goals of, 10; poor ­women ste­reo­t ypes and, 14–16; poverty/welfare reform link, 22; reauthorization of, 2–3; restrictive educational policies, 2; ste­reo­t ypes and, 14–16; work first policies as, 14 welfare reform failures: critical assessment of, 9; survival narratives and, 101–3 welfare reform of 1996, 1–2, 5, 14, 16 welfare reform policies, 8; G ­ reat Recession and, 141–45; regulations and requirements of, 4; re­sis­tance to, 9–10, 18; value of education and, 10 welfare reform research: “leaver” studies, 22; second wave research, 22; third wave research, 22; welfare-­to-­work and, 19–22 welfare regulations: restrictive access of, 26; restrictiveness of, 13; strug­g les with, 3 welfare rights activism, 3, 18 welfare system: calls to abolish, 19; critiques of, 99–101; grassroots activism as critique of, 10; priorities, 8; reform of, 1 welfare-­to-­work: assumptions about, 20; counting of hours, 212n6; as federal motto, 14; research a­ fter welfare reform and, 19–22; vocational education and, 7 Western, Bruce, 128, 129

234  •  Index

­ idows, 16–17 w Wilson, William Julius, 30 Wimer, Christopher, 128, 129 ­Women’s Marches, 186 Woodward, Kerry, 139 work ethic: American Dream and, 4; assumptions of, 14; child care/ work balance, 23; development of, 24 work first policies, 1, 4, 5, 8–9; American Dream and, 13; as barriers, 22; ­under

Clinton administration, 19; F ­ amily Support Act of 1988, 19; implementation of, 14; prioritization of, 8; TANF program and, 176 working poor classification, 11, 21 work participation requirements: caseload reduction and, 25; vocational education and, 23 work requirements, 4, 18, 23, 26 Zhan, Min, 23

About the Author SHEIL A M. K AT Z is an assistant professor of sociology at the University of Houston

and an affiliated faculty with the university’s ­Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Program. She is a founding board member of the National Center for Student Parent Programs and previously taught at Sonoma State University.