What Pomegranate Taught Me About the Class Divide
By: Chitara Smith
Tags: Narcissism, Money, Poverty, Nutrition, Food

I grew up very poor. A single mom raised me and my four siblings. That means there was one small paycheck to cover the cost of five growing children and one adult. My mom made eighteen dollars an hour which, after taxes, brought home a net income of just under 28,000 dollars a year. We lived under the poverty line.

It was rough.

Cooking at home was a rarity because my mom had to work. We often bought cheap frozen foods, noodles, large bags of rice, and large containers of oatmeal. Foods that were filling, lasting, and cost-effective. It wasn’t a common occurrence to have fresh fruits or vegetables since they went fast in our home. My youngest brother loved strawberries so every so often in the summer we’d buy a $1.77 container just for him.

When you grow up poor, you don’t realize just how different it is to be middle class. I moved out at 17 to start a life for myself, since then I’ve graduated college and I’m currently in grad school. I’ve clawed my way up to the middle class, college is just a class gateway in all truth. But an entire world opened up to me. The first time I bought a seventeen dollar shirt, I sat in the car trying to justify the purchase to myself. In an attempt to acclimate to my new class status I did the most middle-class thing I could think of, I went to Target and bought Starbucks.

While browsing around the fruit aisle, I spotted some pomegranates. I realized I’d never bought a pomegranate before. I bought a single pomegranate for almost two dollars.

At that moment I, very distinctly, felt the class divide. I have only tasted pomegranate flavored candies and juices. What I realized at that very moment was that class divides affect even access to taste.

I took the fruit home and examined it. Opening it up revealed beautiful ruby pearls inside. The sheer richness of the color stunned me. I took a bite of the juicy fruit; the flavors exploded in my mouth. I was hooked. Artificial pomegranate flavor tastes like sugar and the idea of pomegranate. The real deal was a vast array of sweets and sour. Pomegranates are heavenly.

“THIS IS INCREDIBLE,” I exclaimed.

I texted all my friends about it. I couldn’t believe just how good pomegranates were. One of my friends texted me back, “you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?”

I stopped in my tracks.

It brought me back to the first time I spent the night at my best friend’s house in the fourth grade. Her mom was a teacher and her dad was a firefighter. To me, she lived in a mansion. Her house became a haven for me as a kid. Going over their house was one of the rare times I could act like a fourth-grader. It was wintertime, and I took a shower in her bathroom before going to bed. When I stepped into the hot water, it hit me. This was the first time I took a shower with hot water in months. Hot water was connected to the gas at my house, the gas bill was one that was often neglected. I took a long time in the shower, savoring the heat. I had to force myself to leave the watery blanket of warmth. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought harshly, “what, you’ve never taken a hot shower before?” I couldn’t let myself enjoy it too much because the reality at home would hit twice as hard.

This humble pomegranate taught me the severity of the class divide. Growing up poor is a helpless situation where you’re too young to do anything about it. A combination of class struggle, unchecked capitalism, and a narcissistic mother contributed to the struggles I faced. I wondered about what else I haven’t experienced? What else was locked behind the gilded doors of class?

Buying that pomegranate for two dollars doesn’t seem like much until you realize that only feeds one person once. And it’s not a meal. Multiply that by six, that’s twelve dollars spent on what’s essentially a snack. When you only have around fifty dollars to spend, that’s an enormous expense.

Is it silly that I want everyone to have access to pomegranates? Or universal health care? Maybe even education?

Possibly. Either way, I’m going to keep fighting for it.