I'm ashamed to say that I almost never interact with poor people. I like to think that I care, that I humanise the issue in my mind, that I don't ignore it like so many do. But the truth is I am guilty of not caring — of failing to be touched by the humanity at the heart of the problem.
About a month ago I was invited to attend a screening of a documentary called The Lucky Country. A project of a single mother, the film was about the drastic cuts to the single parent payments made by the Labor Government earlier this year.
With little publicity other than a Facebook event page, it was shown to a group of around 50 people at a small cinema in St Kilda in Melbourne's inner south-east. It was produced with literally no budget, a triumph made possible through favours, hard work and the volunteered time of university film students.
After the screening, as I sat in the audience listening to the stories of those involved in the film's production, I felt immensely humbled. I was struck by how removed I am from this world of people who struggle to pay for things I don't give a second thought to.
A few months prior I'd watched an episode of ABC1's Four Corners called 'On the Brink', about Australians living on the poverty line. I've been unable to forget one scene in particular.
A woman struggling to support herself and her teenage daughter on Newstart payments was given a $60 supermarket gift card during an appointment at The Spiers Centre in WA. So relieved at the thought of being able to afford items like yoghurt and toilet paper, she cried with gratitude. Returning home, she told the reporter:
I got some toiletries for my daughter because normally I wouldn't be able to get it. I shouldn't have got it because that's that little bit of extra that I spend on, which I should maybe have got food. But just simple things like a decent deodorant for her, personal items, and a little treat of a spray for her.
I tried to imagine not being allowed my favourite deodorant — which all my friends had, too — when I was a teenager. It shocked me that this woman felt guilty not for splurging on designer shoes or indulging in a massage, but for spending a few extra dollars on basic toiletries