Rich Kids: Painted Into a Corner

“Why write about those spoiled brats?” the podcaster asked, capturing in a few words every stereotype of those raised in affluent families:

• They don’t have respect for what their parents or grandparents handed them.
• They have no idea what went into building the family business that sustains them.
• In fact, they dabble in drugs and drive fast cars and wonder why they should have to work.

“Entitled” sums it up.

The provocative comments grabbed everyone’s attention, certainly mine. He could have just screamed, “rich kids,” pigeonholing a whole sector of society in two words.

Stereotypes are just that. As if any group’s characteristics could be melted down, stripped of all complexity, reduced to descriptions that merely allow others to point a finger, the children or emerging adults raised in prominent families are labeled.

Imagine starting any discussion with a list of assumptions based on race, religion, or gender. Even political typecasts do more to stop conversation than to encourage dialogue. You’d think that in this age, you would at least have to be subtle even when referring to “rich kids.”

Recently, The American Psychological Association apologized for its part in systemic racism, an important step forward. Wouldn’t we herald any move that recognizes the damage caused by stereotypes? Yet if you are a child from a prominent family, the assumption is that you were born into a world of opportunity, period. Who cares if you struggle in isolation?

While “rising gen” refers to anyone who is developing or emerging as an adult, those who grow up in business-owning, wealthy, or prominent families are an important subset. This group, believed to have unusual opportunities, often struggles to measure up. They don’t discuss their struggle with friends, don’t complain to their parents, and may believe they have no reason to feel that something is wrong.

Like everyone else, those who grow up in a prominent family of any kind deserve a conversation that gets beyond popular assumptions about their experiences. I have worked with those who ended up at Cook County Jail as well as those who have come from wealthy and prominent families. A disproportionate number of detainees at the jail are minorities. Rich kids are often bailed out, but some do find their way in. In either case, we have our preconceived notions.

I wish I could report that my life plan to work with the rich as well as the poor was a well-conceived plan; that early in my career I had said, “Let me live a life where I learn about as many segments of society as possible.” The truth is, I stumbled into the opportunity of working with the rich, poor, and everyone between. It was a coincidence.

The podcaster who grabbed my attention finally shifted to the real questions that in fact do haunt the rising gen of prominence:

• “Will I measure up?”
• “Even if others see me as successful, am I enough?”
• “Can I have an impact? Can I fulfill my own dreams?”

My career as a psychologist has taught me three important things that apply to everyone:

• No matter what appears on the surface, understanding human experience requires getting below the surface.
• As important as it is to understand what causes pain, the bigger question is, what does it take to rise above it? Of course, this opens the door to thinking about why some people never change or get worse over time.
• The more people I encounter, the greater the number of teachers in my life. By learning about others’ lives, I create an opportunity to make a difference, to have an impact.

Over the past few years, I have had the opportunity to interview the rising generation of prominent families from around the globe. They are proof that the stereotype “rich kids” doesn’t fit. This blog series will explore their unique challenges as they take their own quest to find their place in the world. It aims to help their families, who, like almost all families, hope for the best outcome for their most valuable asset.