Pull Up Your Bootstraps Quotes

Trauma isn’t just the sadness that comes from being beaten, or neglected, or insulted. That’s just one layer of it. Trauma also is mourning the childhood you could have had. The childhood other kids around you had. The fact that you could have had a mom who hugged and kissed you when you skinned your knee. Or a dad who stayed and brought you a bouquet of flowers at your graduation. Trauma is mourning the fact that, as an adult, you have to parent yourself. You have to stand in your kitchen, starving, near tears, next to a burnt chicken, and you can’t call your mom to tell her about it, to listen to her tell you that it’s okay, to ask if you can come over for some of her cooking. Instead, you have to pull up your bootstraps and solve the painful puzzle of your life by yourself. What other choice do you have? Nobody else is going to solve it for you.

SJ: Ah, okay... so you're saying people just need to pull themselves up by their boostraps? Jared: Exactly. SJ: In order to do that, they have to be able to afford boots.

You can't pull yourself up by your bootstraps if you have no boots.

They tell you in this country that you have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. And we all believe that. But first you’ve got to have the boots. And the federal government gave Franni’s family the boots.

The endurance of the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” narrative has always relied on people ignoring who’s allowed boots and who’s given the straps with which to pull them up.

To use the human metaphor, it would be like trying to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. It can’t be done.

Everybody's entitled to that forty acres and a mule. You're going to do the work, but you have to have something to work with. If you don't have a job, where do you go from there? You hear people say Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and you don't even have shoes. You're barefooted. What are you going to pull yourself up by? Our country owes every citizen of the United States of America a means of livelihood. Not a handout, but a way to make it.

He helped me see the beauty in death alongside the inescapable finality. Also, he taught me that when somethin’ scares you, you pull your bootstraps up and give it the finger, so it knows who it’s messin’ with.

When Bootsie was old enough to go to high school, Fran got herself a $300 GI loan to enroll at the University of Maine. She got three more loans and graduated with a teaching degree. Because she taught Title I kids—poor kids—all her loans were forgiven. Every member of Franni’s family made it to the middle class. And they did it because of Social Security, Pell Grants, the GI Bill, and Title I of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act. They tell you in this country that you have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. And we all believe that. But first you’ve got to have the boots. And the federal government gave Franni’s family the boots.

There is a myth in this country that the way out of poverty is to “pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” that by sheer force of will one can change the course of one’s life, no matter how great the obstacles. But in all my years reporting, I’ve never once spoken to someone who came from abject poverty and transcended that path without help.

listening to Pastor Bob talk about mercy and redemption, I am filled with hope. Not the kind of expectation that comes from knowing you can pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, but the trust that comes from utter failure, from knowing you are pathetic and small and you’ve got no place to look but up.

Countless aid organizations and governments are convinced that they know what poor people need, and invest in schools, solar panels, or cattle. And, granted, better a cow than no cow. But at what cost? A Rwandan study estimated that donating one pregnant cow costs around $3,000 (including a milking workshop). That’s five years’ wages for a Rwandan.17 Or take the patchwork of courses offered to the poor: Study after study has shown that they cost a lot but achieve little, whether the objective is learning to fish, read, or run a business.18 “Poverty is fundamentally about a lack of cash. It’s not about stupidity,” stresses the economist Joseph Hanlon. “You can’t pull yourself up by your bootstraps if you have no boots.”19 The great thing about money is that people can use it to buy things they need instead of things that self-appointed experts think they need. And, as it happens, there is one category of product which poor people do not spend their free money on, and that’s alcohol and tobacco. In fact, a major study by the World Bank demonstrated that in 82% of all researched cases in Africa, Latin America, and Asia, alcohol and tobacco consumption actually declined.20

The first step off this downward spiral is to acknowledge these bad feelings as natural. When women feel this way, our society has sympathy, and Oprah gives them cars. But when men feel this way, our society demonizes these feelings as signs of weakness, amplifying the shame and self-judgment, repeating the macho advice to “suck it up” and “get over it.” This bullshit makes the problem worse. It’s impossible to pull yourself out of depression by your bootstraps when all you want to do is hang yourself with them. Bad advice can’t fix bad feelings, and neither can ignoring those feelings. Don’t try to push them away or pretend they’re not there. These feelings evolved to protect us from harm, like our fight-or-flight responses.

I didn't invent the difficulty of depending on people. It's not a personality flaw of mine. The message is everywhere. The air is saturated with it -- independence and strength and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps (an image that is by its very nature impossible.) "Take complete responsibility for your life," they say, as if the external forces don't matter at all. As if it all comes down to personal effort and attitude. As if money, support, and privilege had nothing to do with how your life turns out.

Don’t you dare ever hope for more. There’s no such thing as living happily ever after or pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. The world is how it is and there always has to be bottom-feeders. People like you and me, we’re it, and the world might want us to believe we can have more, but the moment we try to break out of the water they’ll shove us down into the mud. It’s better to know the truth. It hurts less if you accept society’s crappy rules.

George Pelecanos: This is what I think we did best: we showed people how things work, why things are the way they are. ...if you came up the way I did, you've been hearing all your life, "Why can't these kids just pull themselves up by their bootstraps to get out of the ghetto?" Like it's easy. I think in that season [three/four], we showed America why it's very difficult for them to do that, because of everything they're up against. That's really what I'm proud of, is that we articulated on film the mechanics of why things are the way they are. (257)

We are the culture that took the phrase “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” and twisted it to mean the opposite of its original intent. Originally, that saying was meant as a joke, as an example of something as ludicrously impossible as pulling yourself over a fence by your own bootstraps. Now, we forget the origin of the old saying and use it to suggest that we can succeed all on our own, an impossibility that we have decided to enshrine as a cultural value, ignoring the implicit absurdity of both the metaphorical act and the idea that we do anything alone as members of a society or an ecosystem.

But what does that say about aspirational living? Hey, you moved into a big house and you made it...except you didn't. There's this idea that you will be safe if you just get famous enough, successful enough, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, move into the right neighborhood, do all these things to fully assimilate into the America people have been sold on. We all bought in, and we keep thinking if we just get over this mountain of assimilation, on the other side is a pot of gold. Or maybe a unicorn, perhaps a leprechaun. Any of those is as plausible as the acceptance of the wholeness of me. But there's just another mountain on the other side. And someone will be ready to tell you, "Don't be breathing hard. You need to make this look easy.

Beloved, white racial grief erupts when you fear losing your dominance. You get mighty angry at our demand that you live up to the sense of responsibility you say others should have—especially black folk and people of color. You often tell us to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, to make no excuses for our failures, and to instead admit our flaws and better ourselves. And yet so many of you, beloved, are obstinate to a fault, intransigent and thin-skinned when it comes to accepting the calling out you effortlessly offer to others. Donald Trump is only the most recent and boisterous example. The first stage of white racial grief is to plead utter ignorance about black life and culture. It seems impossible to pull off, but many of you appear to live in what the late writer and cultural critic Gore Vidal called “The United States of Amnesia.

anybody that frontier spirit and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. But he also recognized that government investments in things like railroads and ports and canals and land-grant colleges and research through the National Science Foundation—that all these things would provide a platform for motivated individuals to succeed. That was true through Eisenhower. That was true under Richard Nixon. Even Ronald Reagan understood that government has an important role to play in providing opportunity. Not equality of results, but making sure

Instead, you have to pull up your bootstraps and solve the painful puzzle of your life by yourself. What other choice do you have? Nobody else is going to solve it for you. That sadness—the sadness of loss—is a different flavor than the sadness of reckoning. The sadness of reckoning feels visceral and angry and tinged with violence. It feels healable, somehow, with revenge or justice.

You actually think I want to go off and make a hotel with you? A hotel?! Pull myself up by my bootstraps? With you?! Sunny, my boy, you’re nothing on your own.

Contrary to popular wisdom, you can’t pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. Whether you acknowledge it or not, you had help.

It’s so easy to refuse to help others when you feel they were irresponsible. It’s tempting to pass judgment and think you’ve done better for yourself on your own. But don’t be so arrogant to think you got where you are by your own actions. Contrary to popular wisdom, you can’t pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. Whether you acknowledge it or not, you had help.

Depression is a funhouse, with suicidal ideation the wavy, distorting mirrors that have you trapped and stumbling from corner to corner in that box on the midway. You don’t think clearly, and the first thing to disappear is your sense of worth. You believe you don’t matter. You believe you’d be better off dead. When someone dies by their own hand, those left behind spin in wonder: Didn’t they know how loved they were? How valued? How much of a smoking crater they left behind by dying? Well, no, they don’t. When you’re in the funhouse of depression, the opposite becomes true. A deep, pervasive sense of worthlessness seeps across everything like a spreading stain. You fixate on the burden of your incapacity, how messed up and heavy you are, and there’s no talking yourself out of it. You can’t pull yourself up by your bootstraps because you don’t have bootstraps. You don’t even have boots. You’re treading barefoot over broken glass, day after day, exhausted and sick of the pain. You can’t seem to get it right, and you imagine how things would go much better, people would do so much better, if you weren’t around to drag them down. You’d be doing everyone a favor, really. That’s how dangerous depression can be. Not only do you believe you’d be better off dead, but also that everyone else would be relieved by your absence. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Poverty is fundamentally about a lack of cash. It’s not about stupidity,” stresses the economist Joseph Hanlon. “You can’t pull yourself up by your bootstraps if you have no boots.”19

No one achieves wealth and power exclusively through his or her own efforts. You can pull yourself up by your bootstraps, but someone gave you the boots.

While it may seem obvious that parents are able to pass on their social advantages to their kids, many of us may not understand the full extent of this process. It certainly runs afoul of the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps

The aphorism “Pull yourself up by the bootstraps” comes ironically to mind because it’s so inapplicable: if you can’t afford boots, don’t have any power and barely any resources, if there’s no way to hoist yourself up, then when you need something (say, food or tuition for your kids) the choices are either to ask for it or take it. Or suffer quietly. Or throw rocks at a tap-tap or hit your wife. So are good, brilliant, powerful people working somewhere to find systemic economic and political solutions to the problems we see crushing down on our neighbors? And will the good guys win? Because too often they don’t.

Trauma is mourning the fact that, as an adult, you have to parent yourself. You have to stand in your kitchen, starving, near tears, next to a burnt chicken, and you can’t call your mom to tell her about it, to listen to her tell you that it’s okay, to ask if you can come over for some of her cooking. Instead, you have to pull up your bootstraps and solve the painful puzzle of your life by yourself. What other choice do you have? Nobody else is going to solve it for you. That sadness—the sadness of loss—is a different flavor than the sadness of reckoning. The sadness of reckoning feels visceral and angry and tinged with violence. It feels healable, somehow, with revenge or justice. But the sadness of a lost childhood feels like yearning, impossible desire. It feels like a hollow, insatiable hunger.

I ain’t complainin’ now,” Obadiah said. “Never been one to whine and make excuses. But it’s hard for peoples to be motivated to self-improvement when all the benefit goes to someone else. It’s hard to pull yourself up by your bootstraps when you feel like somebody nailed your boots to the floor. That’s why the sharecroppin’ cabins of the South become the ghettos of the North. Well, nowadays the opportunity for black folks is here, opportunity I barely dreamed of. And lots of them has grabbed on and made somethin’ of their lives. But other folks is still in chains in their minds. My daddy used to say, ‘We’s a stolen people.’ When someone steals your property, that’s one thing. But when he steals you and turns you into property, it does something to a man that’s impossible for free folk to understand. It changes the way you look at yourself, and it gets passed on to your chillens and their chillens. See, when you’re a black man, you start thinking there’s nothin’ lower than you but the ground itself, and one day even that’s gonna be over you. So some folk just passes the time until they go to the ground or they start lookin’ to put other people under them.

You can't pull yourself up your bootstraps if you have no boots.

Actions, words, and ideas can be ableist. In my experience, ableist ideas are not always premeditated or purposeful. They are part of the script we've been handed by a society not built for every body-mind. Thanks, Aristotle. Pervasive and invisible, ableism is so deeply woven into the fabric of our ideas about what is "normal" and "good" that we barely even notice it is there. Once you start to notice ableism, you will notice it everywhere. I do mean everywhere. It is difficult not to maintain ableist practices because they are so ingrained into our individualistic, "pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps" society. Ableism is all around.

Change and letting go of the familiar is easy, but you avoid it because it seems like effort to the ego. It only seems like effort if you go at it the hard way of forcing yourself, trying to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. Anything you do not like about yourself—getting annoyed with people, swearing, or what have you—can be transcended by noting down how many times a day you do it. You just start paying attention and tracking it. Anyone can notice; it requires no exertion, only attention.

He looked fit and healthy, a vibrant seventy-something. The kind of man who was superb at caring for himself. Organic food and facial peels and a weekly massage at the racket club. The kind of man who marveled at why others couldn’t just keep their heads above water like he did, who didn’t understand that if you don’t have any boots, you can’t pull yourself up by your bootstraps.

neoliberal capitalism. A self-obsessed, self-seeking form of capitalism that has normalised indifference, made a virtue out of selfishness and diminished the importance of compassion and care. A ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’, ‘hustle harder’ form of capitalism, that has denied the pivotal role both public services and local community have historically played in helping people prosper and has instead perpetuated the narrative that our destinies are solely in our own hands. It’s not that we weren’t ever lonely before. It’s that by redefining our relationships as transactions, recasting citizens in the role of consumers and engendering ever greater income and wealth divides, forty years of neoliberal capitalism has, at best, marginalised values such as solidarity, community, togetherness and kindness.4 At worst, it has cast these values summarily aside. We need to embrace a new form of politics – one with care and compassion at its very heart. The

The pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps story was a nice narrative, her mother said, but the truth was that the course of most people’s lives, all over the world, was determined by the circumstances into which they were born.

I guess I'm starting to realize that being brave isn't so black and white. It isn't something you either are or aren't. It isn't an absolute. Because you can run out of bravery. Your metaphorical bravery tank can run dry. But it's up to you to fill it back up again. To muster all the courage you can. To pull up your bootstraps.

He designed every ice crystal that floats down from the clouds to your child’s snowflake-tasting tongue. We know, from looking at creation, that our ability is not worth comparing to the Lord’s. But instead of looking to God for the deliverance we need, we keep reaching down for our own bootstraps to try to pull ourselves up.

It’s one thing to battle oppression from the outside, but what do you do when the ideas that are attacking you are your own? As with all forms of oppression, sizeism doesn't exist in a vacuum. It interacts with and impacts other forms of oppression, including ableism. For those of us with disabilities where extra weight can make moving around that much harder, the threat of losing what mobility we have can loom over our heads. Ableism tells us that we must walk and become as “independent” as possible; sizeism blackmails us into making sure we stay that way. They both reinforce the man-made idea of an ideal body, one that everyone should aspire to have. Both feed into the capitalist idea that we must pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps, that we must fend for ourselves, that we must not be a burden on anyone else. The two work in tandem with sexism as well – a female body should be Barbie doll skinny, sleek and sophisticated, and anything else is just gross. Our culture's standard definition of beautiful depends on preconceived notions about how the perfect body should be, notions that rely on various forms of oppression to legitimize them. A model body should ideally be white or white-passing, slim and nondisabled. Is it any wonder we don’t see fat, visibly disabled people of color posing on the covers of fashion magazines?" -Cara Liebowitz, "Palsy Skinny: A Mixed Up, Muddled Journey into Size and Disability," Criptiques, 2014.

To pass from understanding less to understanding more by your own intellectual effort in reading is something like pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.