On wanting a life of “luxury” while working toward economic justice
Can (and should) we all be millionaires?
I’ve done the math.
In order to live off a $100,000 annual income in retirement (assuming I’d still be living in downtown Toronto, with certain medical needs, and wanting a lifestyle of comfort and travel to see and spoil my grandchildren) — then I need to save at least $5 million dollars by the time I cash in my very last paycheque.
Does that make me a capitalist monster? I hope not.
I like nice things.
And I want to be able to afford them for myself and my loved ones.
I want to be able to eat out. And eat well. I love cooking, so when eating out, I’m inclined to try food I know I can’t make at home. That usually means expensive.
I dream of 7-course tasting menus. And paired wine selections.
For my last pre-pandemic birthday, after spending the day at the spa, I invited all my girlfriends out for oysters and champagne. First dates were usually to one of my favourite craft cocktail bars in downtown Toronto — deliciously pretentious bar olives included.
I genuinely love going to the opera, and the ballet, and indie theatres.
Don’t even get me started on my travel dreams.
I am bougie AF.
And I believe that as women, we should pamper ourselves with no apology. Especially Black women.
In a society built to make us feel that our value lies only in our capacity to give and nurture with no thought to our own needs, I think it’s important we get a little selfish in our own self-realization.
But I am also cost-conscious.
I believe in financial freedom and personal fiscal responsibility.
This time last year, I was only making $40,000 a year.
$40K doesn’t take you very far in downtown Toronto — notoriously one of the most expensive cities in the world. That meant that my little escapades into luxury had to be rare and well-prepared for.
I missed Trinidad’s Carnival in 2020 because my savings goals were more important. Painful? Yes. Regret? None.
I take advantage of every freebie, discount and sale available. My student card is still valid and continues to give me returns on my educational investment. 10% discount on my groceries every week if I make sure to only shop on certain days.
I do not buy anything that I cannot afford. I wait weeks, and sometimes months before making unnecessary purchases. And I am not shy about returning items that don’t live up to my expectations.
My credit card is paid for on time and in full every month. And I hack that shit relentlessly. My utilization rate is always under 10%. Using credit over my debit card means more travel points — I honestly don’t remember the last time I paid more than the taxes and duties on a plane ticket anywhere.
Humble brag warning: My credit score is 822.
That gives me options.
Financial freedom for me is about deciding what matters most, and organizing my finances to make it possible.
Gucci, Fendi, Prada? YAWN.
But there are other costs of “luxury”
It is no secret that our consumption has ecological and social impacts.
From unsafe sweat shop labour abroad to union busting at home, people are systematically exploited for the sake of profit to shareholders and competitive prices for us consumers. The pandemic has starkly highlighted the contrast between those of us who can have everything delivered to us, and those who have to do the delivering to survive.
The working classes are consistently underpaid, uninsured, unprotected, insecure and at the highest risk of exposure.
And what’s inside those goods? Plastic. Even your clothes are plastic.
And there are two main problems with plastic:
- Where it comes from.
Plastics are derived from fossil fuels, which are literally the organic remains of ancient living organisms. To extract and process them requires tons of energy, and produces equal tons of greenhouse gas emissions. Not to mention the pollution, deforestation, ecosystem collapse and species extinction that we aren’t trying hard enough to curtail. - Where it goes once you’re done with it.
Nowhere.
Whether it’s in your closet, or some landfill somewhere, every ounce of plastic ever created is still just sitting there. Less than 10% of it ever gets recycled. Yet we keep making more of it every day.
How to even?
Conscious consumerism can help us navigate that tension.
Because I do believe that how I spend my dollars signals my values.
Realizing my dream lifestyle means that I need to be able to afford to buy local, sustainable, ethically produced clothing, jewelry, goods and food.
And as more of us spend consciously — i.e. avoiding fast fashion and the products of the mega corporations that increasingly own everything, in favour of local, small businesses and products — we can influence corporate practices.
But is it enough?
No. It isn’t enough.
Treating climate change and poverty eradication with the commitment needed to avoid disaster requires policy change. We need visionary regulation that bans the opening of any new oil digs or coal plans, that creates recycling systems that actually work, and that protects the citizens of every country.
How to we get that? We need to have conversations. With our family and friends, and our communities and elected representatives.
Hopefully I’m starting one with you.
In the meantime, by all means, let’s spend consciously.
Can we all be millionaires?
Money is a social construct. That means that its meaning and value are entirely made up. (By us.)
So, can we technically facilitate the transfer of $1 million dollars into every human’s bank account?
Yes we can.
But that would just drive inflation so high that the transfer would be almost completely meaningless in our current system.
Basic income is a different issue that I think is key to supporting people through the pandemic and beyond.
But in the reality of our current economic system, NO, we cannot all be millionaires.
Free market capitalism requires the accumulation of wealth to the few, generated by the labour of the many. So no, we cannot all be millionaires. We do not all have the luxury of conscious consumerism or the financial freedom that makes it possible.
My personal fiscal responsibility is only possible because of my economic class privilege.
Is it okay to want to be a millionaire?
As I mentioned before, I am actively working to become a multi-millionaire by retirement age. Saying it like that does make me cringe.
But by then, honestly, I’m hoping we’ve come up with a better way of organizing society and managing the resources we need to survive.
Because while we all can’t be millionaires, we do have all the resources needed to ensure that everyone single one of us is safe, healthy, fed, housed, educated and empowered to pursue their own calling.
And that’s pretty much what I’ve dedicated my life’s work to.
I can serve my duty to community while pursuing my own individual self-realization.
And my hope is, that we all can too.
So how do I hold the tension between my own individual self-realization and my commitment to the collective good?
The truth is, we have to survive this imperfect, unjust world in which we find ourselves, while building a better one. And I AM committed to building a better one.
Will you join me?
