When the Census Bureau this month released a new measure of poverty, meant to better count disposable income, it began altering the portrait of national need.
The new method, called the Supplemental Poverty Measure, was designed to add in many of the things the old measure ignored, like the hundreds of billions the needy receive in food stamps and tax credits. At the same time, it subtracted the similarly large sums lost to taxes, medical care and work expenses.
One surprising difference with the new measure, outlined in an article today, was the 51 million people with incomes less than 50 percent above the poverty line. That category, sometimes called “near poor,” was 76 percent higher than the official account, which was published in September. (The portion of people under the poverty line, meanwhile, increased by just 5 percent in the new measure.)
About a fifth of the people who appear near poor in the new measure are lifted out of poverty by benefits the old measure ignores, like food stamps and tax credits. But more than half were pulled down into near poverty from higher income levels by taxes, medical costs and work expenses like child care and gas. Taken together with people under the poverty line, a full third of Americans – or about 100 million people – live in poverty or in the economically vulnerable area just above it.
In Washington and its suburbs, the near poor are people with incomes between $31,693 and $47,539 for a family of four with a mortgage. Reporters talked to people in the Washington area this week with incomes in this category. They spoke of the knife-edge quality of their lives, in which one unexpected bill could knock them off balance. Many owned the usual trappings of middle-class life – cars, houses, cellphones and air-conditioners. But payments on those possessions were juggled, often unsuccessfully, depending on the unpredictable tides of their incomes. None saw themselves as poor. Most saw themselves as part of the middle class. But they focused on how hard they had to struggle to remain there.
Here are some of their stories:
Debra Jeje earned about $31,000 last year as a secretary in an emergency room in a hospital in Washington. She struggles to pay her bills, which come to about $2,300 a month, including groceries. She sells Mary Kay make-up for extra income. Gas, health insurance premiums and taxes put Ms. Jeje just above poverty line.
“What stresses me out most is payday,” said Ms. Jeje, who is 50 and has one son living with her. “I don’t have any extra money left over. My salary is less than my bills.”
Her job, she said, pays too little.
“We’re on the front lines,” she said. “There’s stress and headaches and ups and downs in the emergency room. You really feel that you’re worth more.”
Bille Allison, a health care worker with two children, earns $39,000 a year drawing blood at a doctor’s office in Maryland. She qualified for the earned income tax credit last year, bringing her income to $42,000. But work expenses dragged her down. She pays $500 a month for day care for her 4-year-old daughter, $100 a month for bus and train fare to get to work, and $200 a month for health insurance – bringing her income down to about $32,000. Some months she is able to save enough for game tokens and a meal at Chuck E. Cheese for her daughter. Other months she can only afford to pay half her bills. She was turned away from the food stamps office because her income was too high.
“I tried everything, and it’s like, nope, you make too much,” said Ms. Allison, who is 42 and divorced. “They tell you you have to work to get help, but then you work, and you still can’t get help.”
Jennifer Bangura works at Georgetown University Hospital as a cashier. Together with her husband, a driver for a catering company, their family income is just under $50,000, enough to pay a mortgage of $800 on a house she purchased in 1992. But after taxes, medical costs and the gas to get to work, they slip into the category of near poor. Their situation has been made worse by a second mortgage, taken out several years ago to raise money for their daughter’s college tuition. The monthly payment shot up to $2,200, an amount she says is now untenable.
“It’s killing me,” said Ms. Bangura, who is 50 and originally from Jamaica. She said she has been making payments for years and that “to lose it now would tear me apart.”
Jessie Adams, a floor refinisher and his wife, a secretary, together earn about $49,000 – too much to qualify for the earned income tax credit and food stamps, but too little to live without worrying about finances. Taxes and monthly subway commuting costs bring them down into the area of near poor. They own electronics – two flat-screen TVs and an Xbox game console for their 10-year-old – but cannot afford a car or a down payment on a house. Mr. Adams has not taken his family out on a weekend for five months.
“It shouldn’t be like this,” he said. “Two people working full time in the house, we should be able to save, to take a vacation. But it ain’t like that. It just ain’t like that.”
