Growing up poor is difficult. I remember there were days when all I could eat was a mixture of rice, water, and coffee because we did not have money to buy food. But at least I got to eat, right?

Now, being a poor kid in a premier university, that’s a different story. I am the second financial aid scholar in our family. My aunt, the first one, warned me of people who would remind me that I was nowhere near them, and that I should be constantly wary of the kind of people I would befriend. But in my first year in the university, I felt welcomed. I didn’t even see it as a place where people belittled other people because of their social standing. The place became home, and I got through senior high school unscathed, at least for the most part. 

At the start of the pandemic, my batch had just finished our last year of high school and we were gearing up for our college lives. Of course, you would want to connect with people from your high school who planned to go to the same college as you. We made a Facebook group chat to keep in touch with our batchmates. It might have been due to the boredom caused by the pandemic, but that group chat eventually turned out to be a place for people to badmouth transferees, or as they were called, “outsiders”. It all got out of hand and became a big issue. Apparently, a screenshot of the thread got leaked to one person they were talking about, and it was leaked through an Android phone. I was one of the few poor scholars in the group chat, so I was suspected of being the snitch.

It’s petty that the only reason I was suspected was because I had an Android phone. I didn’t know that phones could now be used to measure social standing. It was the only phone my mom could afford, given the resources we have. At least I had a phone, right? 

This made me reflect on the deeper and underlying problem that not only our school has, but is also embedded in the fabric of our society. Growing up poor is difficult. At a young age, you are expected to be resilient enough to withstand the challenges you face. Being poor means having to forego going to the hospital and just enduring the sickness you have because health care is costly. It means having to settle for scraps because, most of the time, they’re all that’s left for you. 

However, I also recognize that I’m still more privileged than most. I get to eat thrice a day. I get to study in a great university. I get to build connections with people. That’s not the case for most people, though. What would happen to them?

Bill Gates once put it: “If you are born poor, it’s not your mistake. But if you die poor, it’s your mistake.” Never mind the unequal opportunities that are presented to people, right? Never mind the ruling class exploiting the working class. Never mind that the whole system as it is right now is designed to be against the poor and to always uphold the rich. Never mind that the world is unfair because if you are born poor, you are expected to settle for what’s less, to be thankful for the little that is given you. 

If you are born poor, no one really cares about you, and no one really knows you. You are just part of official statistics on poverty, in a world designed to ensure that no one will challenge the status quo. But, as they tell you, at least you get to live, right?

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