When Meritocracy Is All You See
The self made billionaire myth & what trees can teach us about a thriving community
Ever since workers began saying no to piss-poor wages and horrid working conditions across America during the pandemic, the so-called Great Resignation has garnered both ire and praise from media pundits alike (but mostly, ire, let’s be honest!). Watching news outlets explore the why of this mass walkout with feigned naïvete, seemingly unaware of how a majority of Americans live with less than $1,000 in their bank account at any time, baffled me. Were they truly unaware of the plight of most Americans to simply pay their bills while hoping some unforeseen medical event doesn’t upend their lives and torpedo them into bankruptcy, eviction or homelessness? Or were they asking these questions to lead us to a more common American refrain: nobody wants to work!
Kim Kardashian, notable billionaire of exploitative fast fashion and crypto schemes, Reality TV celebrity and beneficiary of both inherited wealth and privilege, was interviewed last week by Variety magazine while promoting her family’s new Hulu show The Kardashians. Whatever else might have been discussed during this interview, these few words—and the video of her speaking them—spread wildly across the Internet: “"I have the best advice for women and business. Get your f---ing ass up and work. It seems like nobody wants to work these days.”
If reading the previous sentence caused your butthole to clench or you suddenly punched a pillow while cursing in a language you have never spoken before (mine was Yiddish), please, take all the time you need. Breathe. Breathe again! Now direct your energy away from Kim Kardashian, because this is not a celebrity takedown piece. This is an exploration of the ideology—the cultural narrative—that drives her perspective, and that of the rich and poor alike. We’re talking about meritocracy.
Meritocracy, or the “bootstrap myth,” is the idea that American economics is an equal plain, where no matter your circumstances, hard work and persistence can lead to financial success. It’s a story we grow up learning in our public schools, hearing from our parents, and absorbing in our pop culture narratives. Americans love an underdog. The notion that one can be born from “nothing” and through sheer grit and determination, rise the ranks into ultra wealth, remains an enticing tall tale. It is also a direct means to erase any critique of the systemic inequities that have been part of this country’s framework since its inception.
In a modern context, I’m particularly intrigued by the ultra wealthy’s continued insistence that their wealth was “self made”—oftentimes erasing any mentioning of inherited wealth, privilege, or straight up nepotism. Donald Trump received a “small $1 million dollar loan” from his father. Elon Musk, a man often heralded for his technological innovations, was raised by wealth from South African emerald mines. Kim Kardashian was raised in Beverly Hills, had access to celebrity culture, and was garnering enormous sums for taking part in a reality TV show by her early 20’s. What harm does it do to acknowledge that some Americans are born into access to privilege, comfort, security and even power? And why do they keep insisting their wealthy was earned purely from effort alone?
The inverse effect of the self-made myth is the emphasis on individualism in pursuit of success. These celebrities and billionaires, we are told, did it alone. This sends a direct message to those struggling in poverty: your struggle is entirely your fault. Not making the money you feel you deserve? Try harder. Stressed because you’ve got student loan payments and a medical bill for that emergency visit that’s gone into collections? Why don’t you make a little more effort.
This messaging breeds shame. And shame causes many of us to isolate and hide. And isolation nurtures depression, anxiety, addiction and a strong dose of self-hatred. We are social creatures, after all. So to be told that we are unworthy of our community’s love, that our value is derived solely from our financial success—and that we are simply not doing enough to give ourselves value—can send many into a spiral. It also demonizes the help of the community. So we isolate further and further, removing ourselves from the very energy and support that helps us all thrive.
America was built upon slave labor (and still benefits from it in legal forms through the prison system) . The wealth that exists today is directly linked to the wealth accumulated by white land owners who exploited the free labor of African slaves to earn their riches. None of the wealth here was made without exploitation at its roots. The billionaires who avoid corporates taxes, ride mega yachts and bold-faced lie about their “self made” paths are part of American culture’s inability to practice self-inquiry. If you, a working class citizen, believe that you are unworthy because you receive $15 an hour to wait tables, you might be less inclined to ask why your wages remains below the standard of living despite prices—and profits—skyrocketing during the pandemic. If you are spiraling in a deep depression about your bank account, you might be less inclined to connect with the majority of others in a similar position as yourself: overworked and underpaid. And if you are experiencing sustained burnout from this pursuit of safety and security, you might not have the mental capacity to see that there is, in fact, plenty of wealth to go around—it’s simply in the hands of a small number of individuals who benefit from your labor. The same ones telling you that they are “self-made.”
Where we, the working class, can turn the tides against this narrative is to speak openly about our struggles and the help we received—or did not—along the way. It takes tremendous courage to admit when we are overwhelmed with bills, struggling with depression, or simply stretched thin by the anxiety of earning. There will be some who reprimand us, who blame us for our misfortune, but the more we openly discuss our plights, the more we are able to see how similar our experiences are in this current economic landscape. It might be frightening, even overwhelming, to consider that there are systemic frameworks that ensure our continued oppression. “What can I do?” is a common refrain I hear. And while the answer is not simple, I often turn to trees during moments of hopelessness as a guide for how to behave in our day-to-day existence.
Much of what we learn of nature in school is centered around “survival of the fittest.” A binary notion that nature is divided between predator and prey. But recent studies have shown that trees exist in a vast underground network of fungal networks that communicate with one another. If a fire sweeps through a forest, trees will send nutrients to younger trees, warning them of impending danger and to harden their bark. Older trees send liquid sugar to younger saplings that deplete themselves shedding leaves and seeking photosynthesis through sunlight. The health of the group takes precedence over the health of the individual. When everyone shares, everyone thrives.
The research around trees is relatively new, and not surprisingly, has been met with its fair share of controversy in Western science. After all, this research goes against generations of belief that nature, at its core, mimics the individualism we promote in Western culture. A tree is not sharing its nutrients because it will be rewarded with public attention or heralded for its efforts. It is doing so simply because it ensures the health of the forest. Ensuring the health of the forest means a longer life for every tree. There is no “self made” tree without every older tree that shared its nutrients along the way.
I don’t imagine younger trees feel much shame when they accept the offerings of the elders that surround them. I don’t imagine the elders feel threatened or reduced in some capacity when they nourish their communities. The individualism we humans practice in Western society is learned. It is not the natural order of things. There is ample evidence of cultures that prioritize the health and wealth of the collective and thrive, just as trees do. We can make adjustments in our personal lives, before we shift systems and ideologies, to encourage help and support with enthusiasm. We can create new frameworks, new ideologies, and find greater strength in our numbers. It is, after all, perfectly natural to do so.