When the bumper fell off the family car, I thought the family in the story were lower middle class: Just enough money to be embarrassed by ragged clothes, but not enough to do anything about it. The thing is, I’m sure they view themselves that way, or at least our narrator does. He ignores his children and wife’s apparently extensive wardrobes (137) and expensive house (we learn on 158 that the mortgage, utilities, and life insurance add up to $2,200, which would put their monthly house payment at nearly $2,000, barring an abnormally high life insurance premium or natural gas consumption. I’m realizing as I type this that could be perfectly normal and my rural upbringing might skew the numbers way, way down.). The fact that his daughter is comfortable even asking for something that costs $380, and in fact asking for it twice, shows that they must be doing something right.
Instead, he chooses to focus on all the things they don’t have. That doesn’t stop him from trying: Like a classic American family, they use credit cards to keep up with their (seemingly) wealthier neighbors. When the narrator first wins his scratchoff, Pam suggests using the money to “partially” pay off their credit card debt (130). We later learn their Visa bill is $880 monthly (158), and I’m assuming from the rest of their financial situation that they make the minimum payments.
I’ll admit I spoiled the story for myself. When the narrator kept making vague comments about “SGs” and how much they upset Eva, I was worried it was something I was supposed to know about but didn’t, due to my background, so I googled it like a responsible student. The definition I found came from a review of the story, which was a relief. It said Semplica Girls are a “status symbol” above all else. The thought of this was, at first, incredibly upsetting. My discomfort increased exponentially with the narrator’s constant justifications for and lack of engagement with the girls strung up in his yard. Then I wondered: How am I any different from this family? I’d never be able to afford a Semplica girl, but I’m in a high enough social position, by virtue of being born in America, to constantly be stepping on someone’s bones. (Sweatshop labor’s place in mass production in particular comes to mind.)
I spent fifteen months between high school and college working in a food production company. We made sour cream, gelatin, pudding, various party dips, you name it. Sometimes in grocery stores, I’ll go to the refrigerated section and be able to immediately point out five, ten, fifteen products my factory was responsible for. I remember during my time there seeing little sour cream packets specially branded for Wendy’s or HelloFresh. I liked being able to look at things and say “I helped make this.” There was danger lurking in every corner. Right before I got there, a man nearly lost his hand but was lucky to only lose a fingertip when he took a shortcut adjusting a piece of machinery. A lot of the floor workers told me about the back problems they were developing from stacking crates and crates of product every day. Jessica, a friend I had made who was in her 30s, told me I shouldn’t go to school for something I care about but instead for something marketable, because she was an English major and was still trying to pay off that debt. Semplica girls may be fantastic, but they’re not without precedent.
The class issues of this story is reflective of American society. When you are wealthy, you want people to know it. This is why you see six Porsche’s in a wealthy person’s driveway. When you are poor, you do everything you can to hide it. This is the desire of the narrator; he doesn’t want to send his kids to school in clothes that will reflect the family income. The SG’s being a “status symbol” is nothing new. It’s akin to wearing expensive clothes that are made in the sweatshops in China. Despite what people think, you are judged based on appearance and possessions.
Rachel,
I am glad you brought up the use of the Semplica Girls as a representation of status for the rich. In this circumstance, it’s apparent that the Semplica Girl’s themselves are a representation of lower class status, thus compromising their identities to create a better life.
It is interesting to see how values change, as one could interpret the act of bodies as a form of currency as degrading (which is the obvious case here), or empowering. From an anthropological standpoint, in Asian countries, specifically in Asia (as I read more about this area), the sex industry is viewed in a more positive light, lending to asian ascendancy, upward economic mobility, and crafting self-imagery.
The book I read was in Chang’s class, and it was Dealing in Desire: Asian Ascendancy, Western Decline, and the Hidden Currencies of Global Sex Work by Kimberly Hoang. It was an interesting read.