”We were happy, studying hard. Neither one of us had a job, because Mitt had enough of an investment from stock that we could sell off a little at a time. The stock came from Mitt’s father. When he took over American Motors, the stock was worth nothing. But he invested Mitt’s birthday money year to year — it wasn’t much, a few thousand, but he put it into American Motors because he believed in himself. Five years later, stock that had been $6 a share was $96 and Mitt cashed it so we could live and pay for education…

‘Another son came along 18 months later, although we waited four years to have the third, because Mitt was still in school and we had no income except the stock we were chipping away at. We were living on the edge, not entertaining. No, I did not work. Mitt thought it was important for me to stay home with the children, and I was delighted.

Ann Romney, Mitt and Ann Romney—Portrayed by Sister Romney as Struggling, Just-Getting-By, Stock-Selling Students at BYU

(via robot-heart-politics)

Oh my god, Ann! This sounds JUST LIKE my parents’ story! You know, the one where they were so poor that they had to work three low-wage jobs apiece, collect cans and newspapers out of trash bins, and raise my sister and I in the projects in order to fight their way out of poverty.

You know, the story, Ann! It’s the one where a business environment forged by hundreds of years of institutionalized racism made it impossible for my father to get a white collar job despite his education because who could trust a young black man back then? And remember how institutionalized the racism was that businesses would actually say that to his face? He ended up taking three jobs — at a deli counter, at a Burger King, and as a stock boy — oh yeah, he worked all those jobs at once. Didn’t he know that all he had to do was have his impoverished coal miner father believe in himself more? Lol!

That’s awesome that you got to stay home to raise your children. I mean *I* can relate to that seeing as I had to raise my little sister — if only my parents could afford to be stay at home parents — or afford child care for that matter!  As a eight year old, staying up until midnight each night just so that I could wake my mother up in time so that we could pile in the car to pick my father up from his night job was so much fun! Of course, she was sleepy because she had to work multiple jobs too!

Since my mom was the only one who could get an above-minimum wage job on account of her being an “Oriental”, she worked as a secretary, at a printing press, and as a waitress in a Chinese restaurant six days a week. I wish she had just listened to Mitt!

Remember how the minimum wage was just $2.90/hr…. (Sorry, Ann. I meant “half a share of Mitt’s stock per hour”.) Remember how the low minimum wage meant that you could barely cover your government assisted rent, no-frills groceries, expensive utilities, and your barely working used car (made by Romney’s American Motors! How ironic!) just to keep up let alone put anything into savings? I mean, who has time to entertain when you can’t afford cable television or a home phone?

One thing that was different, though, Ann, was that my parents weren’t happy where you and Mitt clearly were. I mean, they loved each other and they loved us kids, but boy, could they argue!  They’d get into arguments about things like how to spend the extra $1 they’d have left over at the end of each week. Do they buy an extra loaf of bread so the kids wouldn’t be as hungry? Fresh milk instead of watering down the can of condensed milk? Gas for the car so that they’d make it to the third job on time. Such silly arguments! They should have learned to struggle like you did. It sounds like you and Mitt clearly did have all the best days! Now that’s a real marriage! (unlike their silly interracial marriage — remember how people used to treat the interracial couples then like we do gay couples now? That was awesome for kids like me!)

When I see you on television talking about how you got by, in your basement apartment with your ironing board dinner table (how Bohemian!) I can’t help but think of my parents. I mean, it’s like you’re fucking twinsies. You should all go ride your Olympic show horses together. I’m sure they’d identify with your struggle 100%. You’d have so much to talk about!

(via kenyatta)

*APPLAUSE*

(via thetimeforgutsandguil)