strategic poverty: how social and cultural capital shapes low-income life

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Article

Strategic poverty: Howsocial and cultural capitalshapes low-income life

Daphne Demetry, Jessica Thurk andGary Alan FineNorthwestern University, USA

Abstract

We investigate how material poverty functions as a cultural space, specifically addressing

when it becomes a strategy, that is, when an individual with cultural and social capital

adopts a life of low income in order to form other social identities. We examine two

groups that use low income to further other goals but differ in their temporal lens:

(1) ‘‘transitional bourgeoisie,’’ graduate students and artists who frame their economic

deprivation as a temporary means to prospective identities, such as a professorship or

success in art; (2) ‘‘embedded activists,’’ committed adults rooted in political and reli-

gious organizations who see low income as a permanent strategy to bolster their anti-

consumerist desires. Relying on 37 in-depth interviews with informants we ask, how do

people in strategic poverty construct satisfying lives? What cultural tools and skill-sets

do informants draw upon to negotiate their economic circumstances and middle-class

backgrounds?

Keywords

Consumption, poverty, social capital, cultural capital, culture, strategy

Poor? . . . I have choices because of the education that I have. . . . I feel like I have

access to choices the way people who have been raised in the projects, who have

been imprisoned [don’t have], I mean there are people that live in our house who

have been in jail for a felony and they get out and they can’t get jobs because once you

have a felony, there just aren’t any options open to you. So I feel like my situation is

very different than those persons or people who have been raised with so much abuse

or have been addicted for a long time and are out on the street. . . . I feel like my

education makes a huge difference for me and what my choices are. I can stop being

poor if I want to.

Corresponding author:

Gary Alan Fine, Northwestern University, 1810 Chicago Avenue, Evanston, Illinois, USA.

Email: [email protected]


Anne, a middle-aged female who runs a Catholic Worker house, a shelter for thehomeless, reveals a startling perspective on poverty: the option to remain ‘‘poor’’in spite of her middle-class background and education. For Anne, poverty is anindirect consequence of her chosen life ‘‘occupation’’ as an activist. In otherwords, the institution in which Anne operates sets the low-income conditionsunder which she must live. Anne’s experiences are an example of what we callstrategic poverty, defined as when an individual with cultural and social capitaladopts a life of low income in order to form other social identities. The exampleof Anne reveals that low income is not experienced uniformly, but is varied anddiverse (Wilson and Aponte, 1985). For many individuals, poverty lasts only afew years (Corcoran, 1995). Consequently, we ask what happens when lowincome is a strategy in and of itself by those with appropriate social and culturalcapital. In addition, we question, how do these individuals survive a life of lowincome in a self-satisfying way?

We argue that culture shapes the response to economic privation. However, wedo not adopt the controversial subculture frame that Oscar Lewis’ (1959, 1998)‘‘culture of poverty’’ thesis asserts, that the poor hold dysfunctional values, con-trasting with middle-class society, trapping them in poverty passed on across gen-erations. Indeed, the 70-plus traits that Lewis argued were present in a ‘‘culture ofpoverty’’ have since been empirically challenged (Billings, 1974; Carmon, 1985;Coward et al., 1974; Irelan et al., 1969; Jones and Luo, 1999), revealing that thepoor hold mainstream American values (Della Fave, 1974). In contrast, we arguethat culture is a set of resources that individuals deploy under structural circum-stances. Following Swidler (1986), we define culture as a set of tools and skills thatindividuals draw upon to build ‘‘strategies of action.’’ The word strategy does notrefer to the conventional meaning of attaining a goal, but a broader way of orga-nizing action that incorporates ‘‘habits, moods, sensibilities, and views of theworld’’ (Swidler, 1986: 277). Conceptualizing culture in this way explains variationin both the coping techniques among those who lack material resources and theactions that lead individuals to selecting a life of low income. Being poor involveschoices as well as structural conditions, mediated through strategies of action.Individuals who choose strategic poverty have a cultural repertoire that helpsthem cope with their restricted finances, which those with more limited tool kitslack. In the words of Amartya Sen (2009: 253), they have capabilities, even if theylack resources.

For this study, we interviewed members of two groups who had a similar level ofmiddle-class capital and education (BA or higher), but differed in the temporalhorizons of their low-income life: transitional bourgeoisie (consisting of youngartists and graduate students) and embedded activists (a group of committed,mostly older, social activists). We label artists and graduate students as transitionalbourgeoisie because poverty was a strategy to forming future identities, that is,becoming a successful artist or academic. The transitional bourgeoisie saw theirlow income as temporally bounded: it was a rite of passage to a middle-classexistence. In contrast, for embedded activists, low income enabled permanent

2 Journal of Consumer Culture 0(0)


material simplicity. We call the activists in our sample ‘‘embedded’’ because of theirties to religious and political organizations that rejected materialism (for example,Jesus People USA, Mennonites, or Catholic Workers).

For our sample we used an income of US$20,000 as a cap (twice the single-person poverty threshold in 2005). The median income of our sample wasUS$10,000, approximately the national poverty threshold (broken down bygroups: artists US$12,000; graduate students US$12,500; and embedded activistsUS$6,500). While not all were ‘‘economically desperate,’’ they were economicallystrapped in contrast to the 2005 median individual income of US$32,140. In spiteof their financial position, informants did not self-identify as impoverished. Whenasked if they felt poor, 86 % replied ‘‘no.’’ The remaining informants agreed thatthey had difficulty surviving and ‘‘on the face of it’’ were living in poverty. Giventheir economic strains, we use the label of poverty as a characterization, even if halfof our informants were above the government-established poverty line; we empha-size that our use is different from the official government criterion.

Studies of individuals who select a life of low income predominately focus onvoluntary simplifiers. Marketing and social psychology scholarship define volun-tary simplifiers as individuals who choose either to consume less or to work less(or both) as part of a broader attempt to achieve a lifestyle characterized by sim-plicity (Nelson et al., 2007; Schor, 1998). Variations are evident within this con-temporary phenomenon: downshifters who moderately lower consumption, strongsimplifiers who leave high-stress jobs to live on lower incomes, and voluntarysimplifiers who adjust life patterns (Etzioni, 1998). Despite varying commitment,voluntary simplifiers are similar in that they do not fully escape the market but findalternative ways to consume and work, engaging in political and ethical consump-tion. These individuals are consumers, but in different ways, such as, emphasizingreused goods, boycotting particular items, and embracing technological solutionsthat allow for more sustainable consumption choices (for example, energy efficientappliances) (Shaw and Newholm, 2012).

Voluntary simplicity is not a novel movement; various religious institutionshave encouraged a life of simplicity, such as the Quakers and Amish. Thoreaupromoted simple living with ‘‘Walden’’ (1854). Perhaps better known, however,is the alternative lifestyle of the hippies of 1960s’ Haight-Ashbury and GreenwichVillage (Howard, 1969). Even earlier were the bohemians, young and poor nomadsof the 1800s who led a life devoted to the arts (Nathe, 1978). What is consideredbohemian has changed over time, yet these movements are united by the theme ofdownwardly-mobile economic choices, often by those from middle-class back-grounds (Lloyd, 2010). Modern understandings of voluntary simplicity as a life-style began in the popular press in the late 1970s and have grown substantiallysince. Contemporary media representations frame voluntary simplicity throughfour dimensions: (1) value of the self and personal fulfillment; (2) focus on personalrelationships; (3) respect of nature and the environment; and (4) pattern of living,or lifestyle (Burton and Johnston, 2003). As we review, many qualities ofvoluntary simplifiers, especially their consumption preferences, overlap with

Demetry et al. 3


those in strategic poverty. Yet, unlike the literature on simplifiers, we do not cat-egorize strategic poverty as a lifestyle.

We argue that for our informants low income is a strategy supporting otheridentities, whether future occupational success in the case of artists and graduatestudents, or long-term activism for religious and political advocates. In the follow-ing, we outline dimensions of strategic poverty. We divide our findings in light ofhow artists and graduate students experience and negotiate strategic povertythrough a temporary lens versus embedded activists who treat their situation asmore permanent. In addition, we investigate the cultural strategies these individualsrely upon to manage their limited income and how they differ by temporal hori-zons. We explore how a respondent’s level of commitment to low income and theirorganizational ties impact success at resolving tensions between their middle-classbackgrounds and economic circumstances. All informants have extensive socialand cultural capital, allowing them to adjust to the structural realities of poverty,an experience distinct from that of the truly impoverished. Lastly, in our discus-sion, we investigate how strategic poverty contrasts to the growing interest in low-income lifestyles, namely the voluntary simplicity movement.

Methods and sample

Our study is theoretically motivated by the relationship and alignment betweenBourdieu’s (1986) types of capital. He outlines three primary forms of capital thatarrange agents in a social space: cultural (knowledge, skills, and education), social(personal networks), and economic (financial resources). Oftentimes levels ofsocial, cultural, and economic capital are correlated. Nevertheless, in someinstances a clear divergence exists between these three forms of capital. Bourdieu(1984) himself noted cases in which dominant social groups, such as academics andartists, do not have much wealth, but are rich in other types of capital. The conceptof strategic poverty plays off this disjuncture, recognizing that low income hasvastly different implications for those with cultural and social capital than forthose without. Accordingly, our central guiding research question is, how dothese individuals adjust to the structural realties of their low income? How dothese individuals with other forms of capital draw upon their particular forms of‘‘wealth’’ to navigate their economic circumstances?

We interviewed members of three groups that choose impoverishment but variedby their occupational pursuits and goals: artists, graduate students, and activists.Originally we felt that artists and graduate students would provide a useful com-parison of a defined time-frame (students) versus an open frame (artists); however,in the course of the research, we discovered that the end of poverty was sufficientlyuncertain for students and the divisions between the two groups indistinct analyt-ically so we combined the two. Many in both groups felt that they would eventuallylive as middle class. In sum we conducted 37 interviews. All but three of our sampleheld at least a BA degree and came from a middle-class family background. Themajority reported their father had a professional occupation and one third noted



their mothers were housewives. A handful of respondents mentioned economicinstability in childhood; all of these cases were linked to parental divorce.Despite their current low income, most informants explicitly self-identified asmiddle class. As noted, we combined the artists and graduate students intoone group, which we call the transitional bourgeoisie, due to their expectationof poverty as transient and their strategic use of low income to accomplishfuture identities.

As noted, informants earned no more than US$20,000, twice the poverty thresh-old for a single person at the time of the interviews (2002–2004). Of informants,70% earned between US$5,000 and US$18,000 a year, gaining income from gradu-ate stipends, a variety of jobs such as bartending or waitressing, and religious andpolitical organizational wages. One respondent only earned US$720 and someindividuals affiliated with religious and political groups did not earn any income,although their basic needs and a small discretionary stipend were provided throughthe organization. The ages of those interviewed were between 19 and 74 years, withthe majority of the sample between 22 and 29 years of age, with a median age of 27.Males constituted 65% of the sample and Caucasians 76%; the remaining inform-ants self-identified as Hispanic, Asian, or mixed-ethnic identity. The large majorityof the sample was single. All interviews were conducted in the Chicago metropol-itan area. Below, we outline further characteristics of each group.

Graduate students (12)

Unsurprisingly, the 12 graduate students had the highest educational attainment.The students were active in doctoral and master’s programs in the fields of huma-nities and sciences. Among the departments included were English, creative writ-ing, philosophy, chemistry, and computer science. Graduate students saw povertyas part of an expected transitional period lasting between five and eight years for adoctorate and two years for a master’s degree. In contrast to aspiring artists, stu-dents were relatively confident of economic stability once they graduated. Of thethree groups, graduate students received the most financial support from theirfamilies. Further, doctoral students often received a small stipend from the univer-sity they attended, typically between US$8,000 and US$13,000. Graduate studentswere more politically active than the artists, but less than the embedded activists,and generally identified with progressive politics.

Artists (12)

Our sample embodies the stereotype of the starving artist, a man or woman earninglow wages at part-time jobs, waiting for a break. These artists recognized that theirartwork may never fully support them. Several had depleted their savings and wereliving on a month-to-month basis to support their artistic aspirations. They sawtheir time in poverty pursuing artistic endeavors as necessary to their career andhoped to continue as long as feasible. Artists were aware that they might have to

Demetry et al. 5


choose a different occupational path and many spoke of attending graduate school.Only two in the sample obtained MFAs. All artists interviewed were under the ageof 30, with an average age of 25 years.

Embedded activists (13)

Similar to voluntary simplifiers, the 13 embedded activists were driven by a desireto simplify their lives, rejecting consumption and searching for freedom from aroutine work schedule. Approximately a quarter of activists were war tax resisters,limiting their income to less than US$4,000, so they would not be responsible forincome tax. Tax resisters believed the government spent irresponsibly, as onerespondent explained, ‘‘I don’t pay federal income tax because it goes to war.’’The rejection of consumption, coupled with a life driven by simplicity, was oftenexplained by a commitment to Christianity or other spiritual beliefs. Embeddedactivists had a wide age range (19–74 years, with a median age of 41 years) andsome informants made this choice later in life. Activists had the widest variety ineducational attainment, from only having completed high school to havingobtained multiple master’s degrees. The activist cluster had the highest level ofpolitical involvement, typically adhering to liberal ideologies. However, twoinformants who lived within religious institutions were socially conservative andvoted Republican.

The second author interviewed each informant in his or her home with mostinterviews lasting between one and two hours. Respondents were questioned abouttheir demographic background, views on poverty and welfare, personal possessionsand housing, day-to-day consumption habits, such as budgets and unexpectedexpenses, personal finances, relationships, and political orientations.

Transitional bourgeoisie

How do informants explain and manage a life of low income when it is seen as atemporary condition? We categorize the artists and graduate students we inter-viewed as transitional bourgeoisie because of their shared conception of povertyas a short-term circumstance. Both graduate students and artists saw impoverish-ment as a stepping stone to future identities, a professional academic position, or abreak to reputational and financial success in the arts. Indeed, for those with suf-ficient social and cultural capital, impoverishment is a rite of passage, one thatgains them credibility among peers (Bourdieu, 1996). Because they view their situ-ation as temporary, artists and graduate students must negotiate their life of lowincome with desires to maintain middle-class amenities. In this section, we reviewthe transitional bourgeoisie’s cultural repertoire they draw from to survive theireconomic situation.

Both graduate students and artists searched for a work–life arrangement thatwould give them freedom to pursue their passions, academic or artistic in nature.Graduate students believed that the normal course of their programs would allow



them to pursue their academic interests. However, whereas graduate studentswere often successful in realizing career goals, artists had a tenuous path to alife supported by their artwork. In order to sustain their involvement in the arts,respondents accepted low-paying and informal jobs that provided flexible workschedules. For musicians, part-time work gave them a ‘‘loose schedule’’ so thatthey could tour with their band for months, disappearing for as long as theyneeded. Not only did low wages give artists flexibility to pursue their creativeinterests, but a depreciated salary was symbolically attached to the very meaningof being an artist:

I think being at a certain income level is really important to being an artist, like, kind

of chaos . . . the chaos of not being able to pay bills . . . I mean I really hate it, but I

really can’t see it any other way, being poor, struggling a little bit. I kind of like it.

For many of the artists from wealthy backgrounds it was socially unacceptable toreveal their former economic circumstances. ‘‘I mean, there are some people hiddenamongst us who have trust funds and stuff like that,’’ an artist explained, ‘‘but theykeep themselves fairly well concealed because that’s so uncool.’’

Swidler (1986) argues that culture is a ‘‘tool kit’’ from which people draw tosolve practical problems and construct strategies of action. The quotations reflectthis process; artists select symbolic stories of privation from their tool kit to ration-alize their economic situations. Artists negotiate low income by drawing from asocially normalized practice, that artistry is coupled with financial ‘‘chaos.’’Similarly, graduate students drew from their tool kit meanings of the stereotypedbroke student to justify their low income. Being a ‘‘student’’ was a role that meantthat they were not ‘‘really’’ deprived, because students were supposed to lackresources and because they belonged to a community rich in status. A studentexplained, ‘‘Whether I’m poor is a matter of me thinking I’m still a student . . . Imight answer differently if I was working at a job, living in the conditions that I’mliving in now.’’

While respondents were aware of their economic insecurity, and often spoke ofthe difficulties of day-to-day survival, they understood their condition as non-poor.Informants were mindful of their privileged upbringing. When asked if he felt poor,a graduate student replied:

No. . . . I mean, because of my parents. I mean . . . it’s impossible for me, for me to,

even though I do live very moderately, I think, for a person of my education and my,

you know, background, I think.

Thus, graduate students and artists relied on their middle-class tool kit to under-stand and accept the practice of low-income living during this period of their life.For them, poverty was not, and would never be, a permanent reality.

Even if living with low income was framed as a necessary rite of passage, afundamental contradiction existed for graduate students and artists between their

Demetry et al. 7


current downshifting ideologies and their desire for eventual success. ConsiderNina, a current graduate student:

I think if I had more money unfortunately I would probably be a lot more impulsive.

So I’m hoping that this graduate school thing that I’m doing also will kind of get me

down to a more sensible spending lifestyle. I hope I can say that five years from now

I’ve learned something from this whole experience and I don’t shop impulsively

anymore, because I can’t tell you how much crap I have that I don’t need and I

don’t want anymore, and I don’t know why I bought it, but if I hadn’t I would’ve

had a lot more money at my disposal. So I think that’s what I’m hoping this experi-

ence will do for me.

As Nina’s comment reveals, the motive to downshift is situated in one’s careerstage. Matt, an actor, also reflects this tension:

I’ve had opportunities with my carpentry work, an offer of a job to build log homes in

Montana for really good money, but I didn’t feel like I was ready to do that ’cause

I felt like I would be sacrificing or just, or giving up my dream. But it’s difficult

because . . . you’re moving all over the place or you have, you know, a down time of

a three or four months where you’re not working and you have no money coming in

and you live off your savings and it slowly goes away and, you know, there are

moments where you get really depressed and you sit back and you say, why am I

doing this. Is this really worth it?

Matt illuminates the pressure between the possibility for a more economicallystable career and dreams of future artistic success. Unlike activists who desiresimplicity, graduate students and artists are conflicted and must mediate competingvalues. Their poverty represents a stage in which they experiment with unconven-tional living arrangements before embracing a middle-class existence.

Artists and graduate students’ attitudes towards discretionary spending empha-sizes the contradiction between their middle-class childhoods and aspirations andlow-income reality. As Nina suggests above, graduate students and artists fre-quently recognize impulsive shopping habits, despite their lack of resources. Oneartist noted, ‘‘I think every major product or service I purchase impulsively.’’A graduate student similarly remarked, ‘‘Let’s put it this way. I splurge. If I getpaid, I splurge.’’ Another student admitted, ‘‘I don’t often carefully consider mypurchases. I’m an impulse buyer, I guess.’’ Spontaneous shopping habits werecoupled with loose budgeting. When asked if respondents kept a formal budget,nearly all replied ‘‘no.’’ The rest described keeping a ‘‘rough’’ budget, depending ontheir checking accounts for guidance. Age enables such casual financial decisions.Because these interviewees are young and single, ‘‘splurge’’ spending was easier,since partners and dependents were not affected.

However, moments of compulsive consumption did not just take place any-where. Shopping was saturated with an ‘‘ethical’’ consumerism rhetoric.



Avoidance of chain stores and larger establishments with a preference for small,family-operated, locally-owned businesses was a repeated theme. Often the choiceto frequent these businesses was politically motivated. Alex, a graduate student inphilosophy, explained his desire to shop at ‘‘mom and pop’’ stores rather thanchain establishments:

You have Walgreens popping up all over the town because they hire work-to-welfare

people at low wages. And those people are not making any more money than they

were before. So let’s talk about this incentive. I don’t shop at Walgreens, by the way,

because of that. I have a huge problem with that.

One graduate student was explicit, ‘‘Dollar bills are votes, and I like to votefor independent, small businesses, mom-and-pop-style places.’’ Often the citizen–consumer hybrid was reflected in food selections, such as purchasing groceries at alocal co-op or eating at independently owned restaurants, rather than fast foodchains. These ethical consumption habits are a creative adaptation to a temporaryeconomic circumstance, informed by artists’ and graduate students’ moral perspec-tive and the tools available (Swidler, 1986). Informants draw on ethical consumer-ism to navigate their current circumstances. Framing their consumption habits inlight of political motives allows graduate students and artists to resolve the tensionsbetween compulsive shopping and their limited income. These choices reflect thedesires of the ‘‘creative class’’ (Florida, 2012), or ‘‘neo-bohemians’’ (Lloyd, 2010),groups to which our informants feel affiliation.

Many graduate students and artists lacked savings and acquired significantcredit card debt. However, unlike the truly impoverished, those living in strategicpoverty could use their credit cards for temporary ‘‘loans.’’ Informants used theirclass status to gain credit that sustained them, maintaining a ‘‘buy now, pay later’’mentality. Credit card usage among this group was common; over half of respond-ents mentioned frequently depending on their credit cards and had debt from thisform of payment. Artists in particular spoke of substantial credit card debt. Thefew that refrained from credit card usage were either so far in debt that they couldno longer use their credit line, or were afraid of the debt they could incur if a creditwas available. Credit cards were a common resource when unexpected expensesarose. Zach, a graduate student in English, described, ‘‘I had to have a crown puton my teeth . . .wound up costing me $200 or $300, something like that, so I just putit on my credit card and paid it off when I had the money.’’ Paying off credit cardbills involved choices; some students and artists described being ‘‘maxed out’’ andhaving to cancel their cards; others kept their loans afloat by a rotating paymentmethod, choosing a payment every few months on each card. One admitted tohaving a credit card cancelled, while trying to manage US$30,000 of debt.

Another middle-class value that had to be managed was traditional datingnorms. More than half of the transitional bourgeoisie sample was romanticallyunattached. Romantic encounters surely occurred; however, respondents did notaddress these and our data does not speak to informants’ sexual activity.

Demetry et al. 9


Nevertheless, artists and graduate students clung to traditional romantic notions,discussing marriage and serious monogamous relationships. For male artists andgraduate students in particular, the decision to form a stable romantic partnershipwas linked directly to their financial capacity to support a companion. Women didnot discuss postponing marriage as a financial strategy; however, men frequentlynoted that their current economic status impacted their ability to date:

I took a girl for lunch over a week ago. I mean that’s a real sacrifice. Dating, it’s not in

the budget. You can’t do it, right? I mean you drop twenty bucks like it’s

nothing . . .There’s been a relationship quite recently that, I must confess, one

of the incentives to ending it or to slowing it down considerably was that I could

probably save a lot of money [Laughs] because it was getting kind of expensive . . . It

definitely influences decisions about relationships.

This quotation from Dave, a doctoral student in philosophy, underscores the valueplaced on normative gender relations, such as assuming that the man pays. Thechoice to remain single became a temporary coping strategy for informants duringthis period of decreased financial capacity. However, for some informants – espe-cially artists – low income continued for longer than expected and being single wasno longer a feasible financial management strategy. Instead, these men spoke ofpreferring relationships where partners were equally poor, because, ‘‘it’s nice to bepoor with somebody else.’’ An artist explained the rationale of dating someone ofsimilar economic means: ‘‘I wouldn’t want to be in a situation where I was takingadvantage of someone else’s working more or making more money.’’

The manner in which graduate students and artists alleviate tensions betweentheir middle-class aspirations and their current financial situation reflects a phe-nomenon Swidler (1986: 281) labeled ‘‘cultural lag.’’ That occurs when people arereluctant to give up accustomed strategies of action. Instead of abandoning theirmiddle-class desires, artists and graduate students integrate their familiar tool kit toa life of material deprivation. A prime example of this cultural lag is using creditcard debt as a form of budgeting. Remaining romantically unattached also revealsinformants’ reliance on the cultural ‘‘equipment’’ they have expertise in, that is,habits and practices of normative heterosexual dating.

In addition, graduate students and artists do not fully immerse themselves intheir local circumstances because of the temporal lens they place on their lowincome. As one graduate student remarked; ‘‘we see our current financial situationas something very temporary.’’ How individuals imagine their future impacts theactions they take in the present (Mische, 2009). Research suggests that the futureorientation of those from middle-class backgrounds has longer reach than individ-uals with lower socioeconomic status (O’Rand and Ellis, 1974). If this is so, thenthe transitional bourgeoisie may emphasize the temporality of their economic con-dition because they view it as only part of a long-term imagined future. In addition,future projections of a middle-class income influence informants’ exercise of mater-ial desire, despite insufficient income. In contrast, as the following section explores,



the embedded activists do not have the same breadth in their imagined futures,making them more successful in resolving the tensions of living a low-income life.

Embedded activists

Embedded activists maintained longer temporal horizons than the transitionalbourgeoisie. Poverty for this group was a strategy to form a life-long identity ascommitted advocators. Like the transitional bourgeoisie, activists also espousedmiddle-class values; however, because of their increased level of commitment, theydid not experience the same tension in their economic choices. The sponsoringorganizations in which activists were embedded shaped how they were able todownshift, what a life of low income looked like, and how they managed suchlasting impoverishment. In this section, we review how these institutional structuresand length of commitment shape embedded activists’ cultural tool kit and how theydrew upon it to negotiate living a low-income life.

Limiting one’s material possessions often reflected a set of religious beliefs; inparticular this included values espoused by Christianity, or political alliances, suchas radical progressivism. As one informant put it, they addressed the ‘‘philosophyof distribution of income.’’ Ideals of simplicity and frugality are deeply rooted inAmerica’s Puritan heritage. Reflecting these values and their organizational alli-ances, informants linked low income to an anti-consumption ideology. For theserespondents, strategic poverty meant more than having little money, but embracingsimplicity, an explicit decision to lessen one’s material possessions. Kate, a peaceactivist, explained:

If you want to get philosophical for a second, the more material people own, the less

relationships you’re going to have time for. And that’s an inverse relationship that I

don’t think most people want to admit, but it’s just the blunt truth. Inanimate objects

require an incredible amount of maintenance and time, so take your choice. I made

my choice and I’m really happy with it.

Activists frequently echoed this theme of choosing relationships over commodities.Instead of financial achievements, respondents spoke of non-monetary accomplish-ments. Informants’ defined ‘‘wealth’’ as creating lasting social relations, such asfriendships. ‘‘There’s more to wealth than money,’’ Lidia, an activist, explained,‘‘there’s the relationships and I feel that is very valuable.’’ Like the transitionalbourgeoisie, activists did not self-identify as financially deprived. However, unlikegraduate students and artists who attributed their middle-class background asshaping their definitions of poverty, embedded activists framed themselves asnon-poor because they were rich in family and friends. As John, a resident ofJesus People USA, put it:

I’ve always viewed relationships as the real goal, and to me I have more friends that

I know would, if something happened to me, they would care for my wife, care for

Demetry et al. 11


my children. They’re there for me when I’m in my crisis or struggling or working

through things. They’re there for counsel, talking, a shoulder to cry on, or whatever.

That to me is wealth . . . I’m not impoverished, because I have what I want.

As we discuss, the personal relationships John cites are a vital resource in his tool kit.In addition to motives of simplicity, informants frequently argued that the

freedom and flexibility of their career provided considerable enjoyment. Thetransitional bourgeoisie also evoked this theme in relation to their studies andartistry; however, for embedded activists, freedom and flexibility furthered theirservice to others. For Anne, the Catholic Worker mentioned in the introduction, amainstream occupation would not have permitted flexibility to volunteer and bepolitically active:

I’m poor by choice and I’m poor for political reasons and I do volunteer and I do

political work. I could work four days a week and have much more money in the bank

but while I’m living in this situation, I like to do political organizing work for free and

I like to use my time and volunteer my time, barter my time.

As she suggests, respondents were aware of the financial benefits that came with amundane job; however, they argued it would stifle their ability to do what theyloved. Embedded activists described their work through a discourse of volunteer-ism, and many put in extra volunteer hours by choice.

Because of their increased investment in living a life of low income, embeddedactivists were more successful at keeping their impulsive consumption habits incheck than the transitional bourgeoisie. Embedded activists typically maintaineda strict budget and rarely engaged in ‘‘splurge’’ spending like the graduate studentsand artists described above. Lidia, a 45-year-old living within a communalChristian community, explained:

I’ve never purchased anything impulsively, because if I purchase anything major it

takes planning and it’s not like I have money just to go out and buy it. So I’d have to

scrimp and save. Maybe sometimes occasionally I’ve bought little things impulsively

and I think later on, why did I do this? But we’re talking dollar store stuff; we’re not

talking major appliance or anything.

The large majority of activists were embedded within a religious or political organ-ization that handled their basic needs, including housing and a small stipend forliving expenses. They described their lives as characterized by a communal spirit,both in living arrangements and finances. In some cases, spending was both ideo-logically and organizationally restricted, as individuals did not have access to cashunless they made a request through their institution. As in the case of Lidia, pur-chases gain increased salience because of their self-consciousness. Because theserespondents elected to remain impoverished and did not see low income as tem-porary, budgeting became central.



However, budgets were more than tools to survive a life of low income; theywere also a form of status, valorized within the communities in which activists wereembedded. Indeed, status signals are not just defined by class but more importantlyby local cultures (Lamont, 1992). Respondents spoke to how thriftiness translatedinto reputation. As one male informant ‘‘noted, ‘‘that’s’’ one of the bragging rightsaround [Jesus People USA] is it’s not how much you spend on something, it’s howlittle.’’ Prestige was attached to the resourcefulness of individuals. The more cre-ative one was with money, the more ‘‘subcultural capital’’ one gained gainedamong others; cultural knowledge particular to members of a group differentiatethem from outsiders (Thornton, 1996). The valorization of frugality reflects a cul-tural conflict in which informants seek to create a new status system outside main-stream America (Grigsby, 2004). Drawing from their tool kit, activists usebudgeting rituals to pursue strategies of action – reformulating classic status mar-kers – that adapts to the institutional structure within which they operate.

Material desires were still occasionally present among the embedded activists.For instance, secondhand stores allowed informants to resolve tensions betweenthis and their anti-consumption ideologies. Anne revealed: ‘‘I’m not big on con-suming, so I don’t really like to walk into a store, a clothing store, so I don’treally miss that part of the life that I was raised with. I’m just as happy to go to athrift shop and buy something.’’ Another commented, ‘‘I feel like a fish out ofwater going to big, expensive department stores . . .when the world is starving.’’Other respondents evoked the practicality and satisfaction of thrift store shop-ping, enjoying the challenge of surviving on a low budget and discovering uniquefinds. Thrift stores became free spaces for informants to consume while main-taining an anti-consumption mentality (Evans and Boyte, 1992). Jess explained,‘‘I don’t tend to go out and buy like, I don’t know, expensive items . . . I probablybecome most consumer[ist] or materialistic when I go to the thrift stores, I think,which turns out to be very often.’’ Thrift store commodities for embedded activ-ists could be translated into status markers because the goods were cheap andsustainable.

Some embedded activists remained single like the transitional bourgeoisie; how-ever, their motives were not tied to the costs that came with middle-class hetero-sexual norms. Rather, the men in the activist group raised personal values andpreferences as the root cause of remaining single. Nate, who traveled extensively asa peace activist, explained, ‘‘I have made . . . life decisions, that have had impact onimportant personal relationships and [there has] been a difficulty to balance thetwo.’’ Another informant noted, ‘‘I don’t really have the time or energy to give toan intimate relationship.’’ Dedication to activism replaced romantic relationshipsfor some in this group.

Thus, for embedded activists low income was a strategy to support an identityof anti-consumption, often linked to religious and political beliefs. In many ways,embedded activists were more successful in navigating strategic poverty than theartists and graduate students. Their success can in part be attributed to structuralresources; the institutions in which activists were embedded gave them more

Demetry et al. 13


options and material support. Activists’ level of commitment and their temporalhorizon also helped negotiate middle-class desires and economic realities.Informants’ breadth of future projections impacts what actors do in the present(Mische, 2009). Because embedded activists did not see a future shift in theirincome levels they chose not to spend impulsively like the graduate students andartists. These institutional and temporal factors assisted embedded activists in‘‘retooling’’ their cultural tool kit and corresponding strategies of action(Swidler, 1986: 284). Unlike the transitional bourgeoisie, embedded activistswere capable of abandoning normalized strategies of action and tailored theirtool kit to support personal ideologies. Embedded activists embraced novel mean-ings, for example, valuing material simplicity, attributing wealth not to monetarysuccess but to social relationships, and rejecting hetero-normative romance. Theseskills allowed activists to transition more easily to new strategies of actions, suchas budgeting, thrift store shopping, and remaining single.

The shared dynamics of voluntary poverty

As the previous sections reveal, one’s life-course trajectory distinguishes success atsurviving low income. Because graduate students and artists viewed their povertyas a temporary moment to achieve later success, their middle-class upbringingfrequently stood in tension with their low-income reality. In contrast, embeddedactivists, with similar middle-class backgrounds, did not experience contradictionsas powerfully. While graduate students and artists embraced credit card debt inorder to maintain middle-class consumption habits, activists spent frugally, sup-porting communal values. As students and artists negotiated their inability to par-take in traditional romantic relationships, many embedded activists rejected lastingrelations out of their dedication to volunteerism. Finally, although freedom andflexibility were treasured by both groups, temporal freedom had different mean-ings. For students and artists, flexibility permitted pursuing professional endeavorsthat could bolster their future success. In contrast, embedded activists sought free-dom that would commit them to their core beliefs.

Yet, despite differences, areas of overlap exist between the transitional bour-geoisie and the embedded activists. Both groups relied on similar strategies toadjust to the structural realities of their low income. In this section, we examineparallel coping mechanisms and day-to-day survival among those in strategic pov-erty: communal living, social network support, and thriftiness. We argue thatinformants draw upon a middle-class tool kit, providing access to crucial resourcesand networks. A graduate student aptly described this process, ‘‘I realize I wasraised and brought up and had values of a particular social class that could sendout the right signs that I belong to that class. But I can’t always providesubstance . . . So poor? No, but aware of [its] limitations.’’ Our informants revealthat other forms of capital aside from economic can permit a financially stressedexistence to be satisfying.



Communal living

Shared living arrangements were common across all groups and motives rangedfrom financial to philosophical. Fewer graduate students lived in shared housingand half lived alone, aided by familial support. One quarter lived with partners.For the rest, the decision to live with roommates was primarily monetary, asDave, a graduate student in philosophy, commented, ‘‘I live with two others.Obviously I couldn’t live in this apartment on my own, it would be tooexpensive.’’

While artists and embedded activists are motivated to live with others by the eco-nomic benefits, communal living was also part of their ethos. Matt, a 22-year-oldmusician, described his collective living arrangements:

It’s a three story house, and there is anywhere between nine to twenty people living

there or so. I live in the stairwell of my house. I have a hammock. My stuff is in there.

People sleep in the living room, everywhere. Like when touring bands come to town,

they will sleep at our house very often. Almost at least bi-weekly there is some band

that is from out of town staying there, or different friends or artists. It’s essentially like

an artist commune in a way without . . .we don’t have a mission statement or

something.

For artists, like Matt, communal living is part of the common culture that bolstersthe struggle for recognition. Shared housing enables artists to create a communityof like-minded individuals where they can barter and trade for economic survival.In addition, these residences expand networks that support joint artistic endeavors.Artists not only live together but may also work as an ensemble.

In a similar way, for embedded activists, communal living is more than a strat-egy of surviving low income. It is integral to identity. All embedded activists livedin communal arrangements and the large majority worked within religious andpolitical organizations where basic housing and other needs were met by a largergroup that provided a small amount of discretionary money. Lidia describes thecommune in which she and her husband live:

Living communally, again, my entire adult life, just about, has been living

communally . . .My husband and I live in the community which the physical part of

the community is in a large ten story building . . .My husband and I actually share a

room, one room, that’s pretty much our home. Kind of acts as our bedroom, our

living room, we have a private bathroom . . . It probably measures thirteen feet wide by

about seventeen feet long.

The choice to live in a collaborative living environment is consistent with theirprincipled opposition to mainstream consumerism. Lidia’s minimal living arrange-ments reflect her philosophical commitments. By living communally she hasembraced a life of simplicity with few personal possessions. Ultimately, where

Demetry et al. 15


one lives – and with whom – is more than a consumption choice: it expressesselfhood.

Social network support

Support from family, friends, and organizations, allowed low income to be a strat-egy instead of a condition by providing an interpersonal and economic security net.As a manifestation of social capital, social network support included three forms ofassistance: parental and family, community and friends, and organizational. Whilethese types of provision could be directly monetary, they could also involve‘‘lending a hand.’’

Graduate students’ and artists’ personal finances were often heavily subsidizedby parents or other family members. Informants mentioned familial support, ran-ging from monthly deposits into checking accounts to contributions of food andfinancial support in the case of emergencies. As one graduate student put it, ‘‘If Idesperately need money, I can turn to my parents.’’ Another commented, ‘‘I cancall and say, there’s no food in the house. I need five hundred bucks to pay for myGRE’s. They will bail me out like that.’’ An artist bluntly described his techniquefor confronting unexpected expenses, ‘‘mom.’’ Familial relationships wereexplained by informants through the financial contributions they provided,which were sometimes extensive. For instance, an artist described his relationshipwith his ‘‘dad’s ex-girlfriend’’ who during the holiday season ‘‘flies me down andtotally ravishes me with everything that I could every want for four days.’’ Onegraduate student bluntly remarked, ‘‘I think my dad’s net worth is easily over amillion dollars.’’ The security net these richer social relationships provided enabledinformants to distance themselves from those in real impoverishment. As one activ-ist reflected, ‘‘I could never be poor with the way that my parents are, no matterhow I chose to live my own life.’’

All three groups reported aid from partners, friends, and roommates, but rarelywas this help directly monetary. Friends cooked for one another, treated each otherto drinks or meals, helped with household chores, or offered rides. As oneembedded activist described, ‘‘I mean, it’s not always just financial. You know,sometimes people just have what you need and you can use it.’’ Among artists abartering culture was prevalent, as Matt, a musician, explained:

I mean, this town is really supportive in ways - like, say I am deejaying one night. Well,

then I will probably get free drinks all night long. Or, I am playing a show, or friends

cook each other food. There is lots of ways to get around things like that in this town.

It’s never really all that desperate. You can live really inexpensively.

While many artists lacked formal organizational support like activists and graduatestudents, the urban neo-bohemian spaces in which they live provide symbolic andmaterial resources that sustain them (Lloyd, 2004). As Matt’s quotation suggests,artists developed an array of social ties upon which they relied. Communal living



arrangements supported these social connections. For example, an artist describedliving in an ‘‘open fridge’’ community where ‘‘if there is something in there, justtake it out and eat . . .money is very fluid amongst my friends.’’ Artists also recog-nized each other’s financial difficulties, reducing the social pressure to spendmoney: ‘‘a lot of my friends don’t want to spend money either, so I don’t thinkI have been invited to anything that I couldn’t go to.’’ Lastly, social connectionscan further careers; an artist described getting most of his commissions for albumcovers from friends who knew his work.

Graduate students and embedded activists also saw themselves as part of acommunity, one attached to sponsoring organizations. For activists, organizationsprovided assistance from financial to emotional. Informants often raised the moralsupport their community provided:

[If] I’m just really depressed or really, you know, in a bad sorts of things, I have, gosh,

a plethora of people I can just go and can either call or go visit here in Chicago who

would help me through that and give me advice or just be there to listen or, you know,

to help me get through that. If I needed a resource on, you know, any number of

topics, there’s people who could help me get that information.

Organizations provided material needs as well. Many supplied room and boardand other living expenses as the need arose. Activists described their home furnish-ings as gifts from neighbors: ‘‘A lot of our stuff was given to us. In fact, a lot oftime in [Jesus People USA] you see people handing stuff around.’’ In times of need,activists could turn to their intentional community, for instance, ‘‘I was havingsome problems with my plumbing, I asked this one guy who is gifted in plumbing,can you come help me out and we’ll do dishes for you that night or something. Sothere’s some cooperation there.’’ Graduate departments did not contribute thesame level of support to their students; however, graduate students often citedtheir university community as a ‘‘home away from home’’ where they could turnfor emotional support.

Thriftiness

Respondents’ day-to-day thriftiness was another example of how their social andcultural capital permitted personal comfort by accessing goods that might other-wise be unavailable. Thriftiness encompassed a number of survival strategies, pro-viding inexpensive home furnishings and groceries, and dealing with health issues.

In addition to thrift stores, material needs were met cheaply by repairing orconstruction. A do-it-yourself mentality was popular among embedded activists, asit was consistent with the moral virtue of recycling goods:

I learned how to build things and fix things at an early age. And once I did that, then I

realized that I didn’t have to pay a lot of money for expensive things. If I needed a car

for instance, I didn’t need a new car, I could get a used one and fix it up. And once

Demetry et al. 17


you’re on that route, there’s a strong temptation, if you don’t want to spend a great

deal of time making money, to just constantly approach everything that way. To get

something that’s used, and fix it up, and build it yourself.

Building furniture and restoring secondhand possessions gave informants a low-costway to access goods. Informants’ knowledge of craftsmanship not only savedmoney,but also helped satisfy their consumer desires. An artist explained: ‘‘I found a creativeway to make one that is a little bit unique, a little bit different than what you wouldfind in the store and yet stable and secure enough to satisfymy need for it. You know,so I saved myself about $400 through building that.’’ Home-made goods were oftengiven as Christmas gifts by informants lacking funds; for example, a graduate stu-dent made beaded jewelry every year for friends. Activists also prepared their owngifts as a way to avoid the consumerism of the winter holidays. If a respondentneeded help in refurbishing an item, he or she could turn to their community forexpertise, as an activist described, ‘‘There’s this huge TV, a beautiful TV, twenty-seven inch, my neighbor tossed it out. I got it out of the trash can and a friend put in anew resistor for about ten dollars and it’s worked ever since perfectly.’’

When it came to nourishing themselves, informants were particularly resourceful.‘‘Dumpster diving’’ was a popular technique to get salvageable foods that weredeemed to be ‘‘thrown away in perfectly good condition.’’ Informants referred todumpster locations next to high-end food shops where they could gather scraps atclosing. Respondents relied on their personal network for information on the bestplaces to salvage. For instance, one activist told a story of finding a Persian rug in adumpster and later selling it for US$800. Such resourcefulness was valorized, espe-cially among the embedded activists. Several informants grew their own produce orrelied on community gardens. Others subsisted on low-cost food items such as pasta,ramen, eggs, and potatoes. For example, an artist outlined his meal planning:

I figured out a way where I can spend like twenty-five dollars and get like a whole

three meals worth of food that can be eaten like three times. I’ll buy like, eggs, and

frozen sausage, and potatoes, and I know that I can probably make four, maybe more,

meals out of that, and that that’s going to be a lot of food and that as a whole it’s

going to cost me less than ten bucks to buy all of it.

Stretching out meals was another creative strategy; one graduate student explainedthat he would eat ‘‘only two meals a day, instead of three, just because you reallymake the groceries last longer if you can do that.’’

As the majority of our sample did not have medical insurance, health serviceswas another issue they had to tackle frugally. For these individuals, strategies weremulti-layered, depending on a variety of resources to avoid illness. Mary, anembedded activist, explained:

At this point I don’t have insurance and I think I’d be in real trouble if something

happened. I may have to go to my parents or I may just have to go to [public city



hospital] . . . there are citywide clinics that do that stuff for free . . . I’ll either make do

with what’s free and what’s available or I have a brother in law that’s a doctor and

when I haven’t had health insurance I’ll call him and consult. So I have that to fall

back on. . . . I use the Chicago Women’s Health Center. I had some gynecological

problems a while back and they’re a pay what you can so I use their services and I

use the internet a lot. If I find out something’s going on with me, I’ll go and find out

for myself what I have to do and it cuts back. I don’t spend money on pills or medi-

cation. I don’t take anything unless it’s absolutely necessary. So I do a lot of self-

healing.

Mary illuminates the process by which she draws from her cultural and socialcapital to navigate healthcare resources. Her knowledge of the network of health-care organizations in the city allows her to pinpoint where to go for free servicesdepending on her medical needs. She relies on her social network for aid, consultingher brother-in-law who is a doctor or going to her parents for financial help. Lastly,Mary uses her understanding of the internet to self-medicate. Food choices alsoallowed informants to feel that they were promoting their health, and in the pro-cess, avoiding illness. Several explained their dietary habits as ‘‘preventative medi-cine.’’ To this end, approximately a quarter of the sample was vegetarian. Anotherstrategy was to borrow medicine from one’s social circle. Jeff, a musician, stated,‘‘Last time I got a sinus infection in January, and my girlfriend had some anti-biotics from when she was sick, and I took the rest of it to ensure that I was goingto be fine.’’ If an emergency did occur individuals spoke reluctantly of dependingon the public city hospital.

Thus, those in strategic poverty relied on their extensive support networks andcultural resources, unavailable to those who are structurally impoverished.Respondents depended on a wide pool of friends, parents, family members, andcommunity members for monetary and emotional support. Informants’ culturalcapital allowed them to navigate low income by providing them with the skills andknowledge to access material goods, food, and health resources at lower (some-times even free) costs.

Low-income lifestyles and strategic poverty

Academic work on voluntary simplicity is largely descriptive in nature; scholarsattempt to define the term as a lifestyle choice, create typologies of its varying mani-festations, track consumption habits (or lack thereof) of self-proclaimed voluntarysimplifiers, their motivations, and demographic profiles. These studies reveal thatvoluntary simplifiers are in many ways similar to individuals in strategic poverty.Both groups are motivated by a search for personal freedom. Both use low income asa strategy to address other problems, especially dissatisfaction with inflexible paidlabor. They share similar interest in ethical shopping, a process where consumptionis the new form of civic engagement (Nelson et al., 2007). For example, bothgroups prefer organic or local food (Alexander and Ussher, 2012), vegetarianism

Demetry et al. 19


(Grigsby, 2004), and thrift stores (Shaw andNewholm, 2002). They face comparableconsumer tensions. For instance, the transitional bourgeoisie are not the only oneswith difficulty resisting material attractions. In a large-scale survey of voluntarysimplifiers Alexander and Ussher (2012) found that the major obstacle in maintain-ing their lifestyle was resisting consumer temptations. Like the transitional bour-geoisie, the voluntary simplifiers Grigsby (2004) interviewed accepted heterosexualnorms despite efforts to downplay gender imbalances. Lastly, voluntary simplifiersand those in strategic poverty share demographic characteristics: both are well-educated, come from highly affluent backgrounds, and are predominately singleand childless (Grigsby, 2004; Huneke, 2005; Zavestoski, 2002).

However, there are some key differences between strategic poverty and volun-tary simplicity. Firstly, the literature on voluntary simplicity frames the movementas a lifestyle; that is, a pattern of taste and values reflected in consumption habitsand influenced by socioeconomic status (Zablocki and Kanter, 1976). In contrast,for our informants, low income is not a lifestyle as such, but rather a meansthrough which they create other identities. For instance, the transitional bour-geoisie sought to maintain their middle-class consumption despite their economicmeans. Secondly, voluntary simplicity does not entail the same degree of economicrestriction as those in strategic poverty. Surveys of voluntary simplifiers find thatindividuals of moderate income are more likely to practice such a lifestyle (Huneke,2005). For example, one recent study reported that the majority of voluntarysimplifiers earned between US$35,000 and US$60,000 annually, but some madeeven up to US$100,000 (Alexander and Ussher, 2012). Thirdly, and relatedly, theliterature argues that voluntary simplicity appeals to individuals who have alreadybeen part of the work-force, are older (Craig-Lees and Hill, 2002), and have invest-ments as a cushion to support their lifestyle change (Grigsby, 2004). While those instrategic poverty may have the skills and education to achieve a high income, mostare not downshifting from a previous state of personally earned wealth like vol-untary simplifiers.

Finally, the literature on voluntary simplicity does not investigate how an indi-vidual’s downshifting experiences are moderated by life trajectories and organiza-tional ties. As we demonstrate, both factors influence the success by whichindividuals navigate low income. Current research promotes the view that individ-uals typically adopt a simplicity lifestyle later in life. One study suggested that babyboomers (between 40 and 55) were more likely to become voluntary simplifiers(Craig-Lees and Hill, 2002). However, questions remain on how late versus earlyadoption impacts a person’s success at living simply. We argue that meanings oflow income differ depending on when during one’s lifecycle economic restrictionbegins. Graduate students and artists, who are relatively young, framed their eco-nomic instability as temporary. Meanwhile, activists, often older, saw their povertyas a permanent. Future projections had a strong impact on success at negotiatingconsumerist tension. Activists increased commitment and their longer time horizonallowed them to re-adjust their cultural tool kit to their structural circumstances.Aside from the recognition of the role internet communities and media play in



promoting simplicity, scholars have disregarded the local components of culture;group and organizational ties of voluntary simplifiers shape their options.Organizational ties, even informal ones like for artists, influence one’s ability toadopt and sustain a life of low income. The majority of activists avoided expensesby being embedded within political and religious organizations that supported alife of simplicity. Artists’ networks helped them gain cheaper housing, barteredfood and other material needs, and moral support. Consequently, while we recog-nize the similarities those in strategic poverty have with voluntary simplifiers, wealso illuminate the differences between the two groups.

The dynamics of strategic poverty

Poverty becomes a strategy, instead of a condition, when an individual or groupmaintains sufficient social and cultural capital to navigate economic uncertainty.Drawing on interviews with artists, graduate students, and activists, we reveal thatlow-income life is dynamic and varied in form. We argue that culture influenceshow an individual negotiates and responds to economic limitations. We conceptu-alize culture not as a group of cohesive values, but as a repertoire of strategies ofaction. The experiences of those who willingly limit consumption reveal that cul-tural conditions matter in the construction of a satisfying life.

However, even with the appropriate tool kit, a life of low income is fraughtwith complications. As the transitional bourgeoisie reveal, a tension existsbetween values of downshifting, rejecting consumerism, and middle-class desires.Despite framing low income as part of their life-trajectory, artists and graduatestudents were challenged to keep ‘‘splurge’’ spending in check, resulting in sig-nificant credit card debt. Meanwhile, fewer, but still a significant number, ofactivists self-identified as middle class, regardless of their lifetime commitmentto low income. Activists negotiated the tension between income constraints andadherence to middle-class norms in consumption spaces such as secondhandshops that allowed access to goods along with social support that could keepindividuals afloat. Consequently, because of their increased level of investment inlow income, activists were able to adapt their cultural strategies to their economiccircumstances.

Several issues at the intersection of culture and low income demand furtherresearch, especially the process of life transitions. The transitional bourgeoisieenact their shift between young adult and full adulthood through consumptionhabits. Namely, artists and graduate students partially adopt future consumptionbehaviors of the middle class while tempering economic restrictions. For instance,informants discussed splurging on clothing with credit cards but restricting foodpurchases. Our study was not longitudinal, and as a result, we cannot examinewhat happened to the artists and graduate students as they negotiated changes totheir occupational status. Do these individuals continue to live simply once theyachieve occupational success? For activists, did they ever become disillusioned withtheir sponsoring organization and leave? Moreover, what is the process of exiting

Demetry et al. 21


low income and the community associated with it? How do social and culturalcapital aid in the transition out of poverty?

Lastly, our paper contributes to the literature on consumption habits and identitymarkers. For Veblen (1899), examining upper-class culture, goods are group statusmarkers (Goffman, 1951) and personal tastes are shaped by an individual’s socio-economic status, selected for display to others as symbols. Parallel to Veblen,Bourdieu (1984) examined styles of consumption. Taste, he argued, reproducesand reinforces social class when expressed in micro-level interactions. WithinBourdieu’s framework, consumption choices are indicators of cultural capital: theskills, dispositions, and cultural background of an actor by virtue of his/her habitus.As those in strategic poverty reveal, directly linking taste and its expression throughgoods and social class is problematic. For instance, for embedded activists and art-ists, communal living arrangements reveal that shared values and tastes are alsoevident in intangible goods. Life-cycle also plays a role in consumption habits, forexample, while the young transitional bourgeoisie impulsively spend, older activists’budget. Further, measuring lifestyle only through income is problematic, as exem-plified by the middle-class choices graduate students and artists seek to maintaindespite their income. Ultimately, while poverty is a problem and a challenge, themeaning of the problem and challenge depends heavily on whether one has tools thathelp one cope, overcoming the strains that a lack of resources entails.

Funding

Data collection and transcriptions of the interviews was made possible through a grant from

the Searle Fund.

Acknowledgments

We thank Kathy Edin, Richard Lloyd, Leslie McCall, and Nicole Van Cleve for their

comments on an earlier version of this paper.

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Author Biographies

Daphne Demetry is a doctoral student in sociology at Northwestern University. Herresearch interests include culture, consumption, and food. She is currently investi-gating temporary organizations through an ethnography of ‘‘pop-up’’ restaurants.

Jessica Thurk received her MA in Sociology from Northwestern University.

Gary Alan Fine is John Evans Professor of sociology at Northwestern University.His current research is an ethnography of competitive chess, examining the devel-opment of status systems.


strategic poverty: how social and cultural capital shapes low-income life

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