“You can be anything you want to be.”
How many of you have heard this growing up?
And how many of you believed that,
truly believed that you could be anything you want to be,
anything you put your mind to, right?
Well, as a young girl growing up in a downtown neighborhood,
being raised by a single mom of four kids,
do you want to know what I heard when people would say this?
I heard, “White rich kids, you can be anything you want to be;
but poor black girls like you, you don’t deserve nothing.”
Like when I would go to the gas station to buy my favorite candy,
after earning a report card to be proud of:
oftentimes I was met by expressions of disgust by the cashier,
as I placed my paper food stamps on the counter, one by one,
as if had just ripped somebody off.
Or when I would go home at night to turn on the television
and I saw people who looked like me and lived in neighborhoods like mine
were either criminals, gangbangers, drug dealers,
as if those were my only options in life.
“Be anything you want to be…”
Yeah, right?
Or when I would go to my advanced placement classes in high school
and I was the only one there who had brown skin,
and hand-me-down, no-name clothing,
and the backpack I used the year before;
the message was clear:
“You don’t belong here.”
So, what were my options in life?
What could I do as a young girl growing up in welfare?
And I’m talking straight-up welfare:
monthly cash assistance, housing allowance, food stamps,
weekly trips to the food pantry.
How was I supposed to be anything I want to be?
What does that even look like?
But here I am, actually living a life that I’m proud of.
I have a successful career, that’s rewarding,
in the field of education.
I have a beautiful family,
with the support of husband and two amazing little girls.
I own a home and drive a car that I paid for.
And I managed to put myself through college.
So far, I’m in a master’s degree.
For some of you, this may seem like no big deal.
It’s the kind of life you expected.
It’s what you were exposed to as a young child.
It was already your lived experience.
But not me.
To be honest, I didn’t even know this kind of life existed.
I had no idea.
And through my adulthood, people constantly asked me,
“How did you make it out of poverty? How did you survive? What’s the secret?”
And I used to just shrug my shoulders and say, “I don’t know. Luck, I guess.”
But then, as I started working with students and families
living in poverty, in some very similar situations as my own,
I started to take notice and I started studying those around me,
as well as doing a deep analysis of my own life.
And I realized that poverty is not about money,
nor is it about having a great job, not at all.
Poverty is about the lack of opportunity
and the belief that you actually have control over our own life story.
It’s about having access to opportunities with forward momentum.
It’s about people believing in you
and giving you the chance to do something great.
It’s about feeling support from those around you
when you really doubt that you have what it takes.
And who has the power to control this?
Each and every one of you.
Everyone can offer hope and inspiration, love, encouragement and support
to individuals who’ve been marginalized, victimized, alienated,
or discriminated against.
You all have the power to do that. It’s so impactful.
You just have to take notice of those around you
and be willing to step out of your comfort zone
in situations that may seem unfamiliar.
Everyone can do this, and it seems so simple.
Throughout my life, I’ve had a number of individuals
who have provided selfless support and guidance
throughout my entire lifetime.
They believed in me no matter what,
and taught me how to be resilient against the ills of the world.
It didn’t matter that my family relied on government assistance or survival,
and that my mom was raising four biracial children by herself.
All that mattered was that we went to school every day, tried out very best,
and we treated everyone, including ourselves,
with dignity and respect.
Individuals like my first grade teacher,
who always told me how smart I was
and how lucky she felt that I was in her class.
She replaced constant societal messages
[like] “you’re a failure” and “you’re a lazy”
with, “You’re going to be great!”
Or my brother’s reading teacher,
who encouraged me to be a leader at just nine years old
by giving me the responsibility of child care during family education nights,
so that parents and caregivers could come together and learn the strategies
to help their children become more successful readers.
Or my city bus driver – the number three mattered, I’ll never forget –
who, during each winter holiday, would plan a special night with my mom,
providing commentary on the regular bus route,
pointing out all the beautiful holiday lights and decorations,
and that was something my family looked to every year.
And my beat cop in my neighborhood,
who got his buddies together
and sponsored me for an all-star basketball tournament
that my family couldn’t afford.
I was so excited when I got the call inviting me to participate,
but, once I saw the cost, I stopped talking about it,
because I knew bringing it up to my mom would just perpetuate a downward cycle
of depression and guilt,
when there were things that she couldn’t afford, that us kids wanted.
But he knew how important it was and helped me out,
even though in the grand scheme of things it’s not that big deal at all.
And my high school geometry teacher
who was the first person to mention college to me.
And my response, “Oh, me? I’m not going to college.
That’s for rich kids, and we’re on welfare.”
She said, “College is for you, and that’s not negotiable,”
and supported me every step of the way
until I walked across that university stage,
and she was so proud of me.
And then, there was my general manager at my first job,
who taught me the importance of developing a good work ethic.
He believed that I was a leader
and invited me to participate in the management training program
before I was even 18 years old.
He invested in me.
What a powerful message to send to a young person.
Through these acts, these individuals made me feel like my life mattered,
like I had a purpose in this world.
It was something I didn’t get on a regular basis.
So, why does all of this matter? Why should we care? Why is this important?
Because, if we don’t, there can be devastating consequences.
And, at the young age of 58, my mom paid the ultimate price.
After years of poor nutrition, poor healthcare, high stress
and a lack of adequate support for her own mental health needs,
a lifetime of poverty literally killed her.
And, like so many daughters in this world, I totally idolized my mom.
I looked up to her so much.
She taught me what it meant to be selfless in service
and that education was truly the key to success;
so much so that, two years before she died,
she enrolled in a technical college to pursue a degree in nursing,
earning all As and Bs her first semester.
She always used to say, “We may be poor, but we’re not dumb.
We have a brain and the world needs us to use it.”
She figured that, since all of her kids took the opportunity to go to college,
it was her turn.
She wanted to be an advocate for those she considered voiceless
because she said, “Their needs never seem to be heard by those making decisions.”
And sadly, she never got to see her dream become reality.
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned in my life, it’s this:
that people need to be validated and empowered, but not saved.
It’s about helping people achieve the goals that they want to achieve,
and not determining what their goals should be.
When you look through your own lens, with your own values,
you might have good intentions, but it can have very ill effect.
For example, a couple of years ago, I was working with a high school student
who was identified by the courts as a child in need of protection services.
He was 16 years old and his family had basically abandoned him.
He was homeless.
It was a couple weeks before the winter holidays,
and a colleague came forward,
interested in providing a temporary place for him to put his head down at night.
So, I participated in this meeting to explore this opportunity,
to see if this could be a possibility,
and, at some point during the meeting,
my colleague turned to the student and said,
“You know, I just really hope that this process can go fast
because I want you to have a nice Christmas.”
And, later that day, that student came down to my office,
just completely upset.
He started pacing back and forth and I asked him,
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
And I looked at him and his eyes welled up with tears, and he said,
“Man, these people don’t get me!
I don’t want to have a nice Christmas. I don’t care about all that!
I want someone to love me, make me feel like I matter,
make me believe I can be somebody,
instead of making me feel like I’m a fucking joke, a burden,
and some poor little kid that someone’s got to take home tonight.”
That experience was so impactful.
Thinking about what people need just to survive the day
sometimes can be so basic:
love, feeling wanted.
What she thought he needed wasn’t what he needed at all.
A couple of years ago,
my husband and I started volunteering at the emergency warming shelter,
and it was quickly evident, by a simple need,
that the guests displayed the need for a listening ear,
something that we all have the ability to offer,
but we don’t always maximize by that.
And we found great joy each week
listening to the awesome stories of individuals who treated us like friends
and, for the most part, were living in very dark places.
Socializing with our peers is such a vital part of human nature,
and to think some people go day in and day out
isolated from this basic experience – why?
Because they’re not in our social circle?
Belief is the single most powerful tool
that you can do to disrupt the cycle of poverty
and provide individuals with the confidence
that they can and will succeed.
And I am proof of that.
I wouldn’t be standing here proudly today
had others not believed in me and shown me the way.
And everyone can tell someone else that they matter
and that they will get through the tough times.
It’s self-efficacy, which is a top trait of successful people,
the belief that you can do it.
It’s amazing just to think: the belief that you can do it.
I want to share a quote by Dr. Haim Ginott,
which has shaped the way I see the world
and the impact I have the opportunity to make
on the precious lives around me every day,
“If we see people as they are, we make them worse.
If we see people as they ought to be,
we help them to become what they are capable of becoming.”
So, as Mahatma Gandhi said,
be the change that you wish to see in the world.
And that is truly how I live my life, both personally and professionally.
I take notice of those around me
and do whatever I can to break down the barriers.
We must act with purpose in order to end this devastating cycle.
To those of you battling this cycle right now,
please don’t give up, the battle is worth it.
Trust yourself, and yes, you do deserve the life that you want to live.
Sometimes I have to just laugh
thinking about my life now and how different it used to be.
Just the other day – well, every day –
I complained to my husband about not having a mudroom in our house.
(Laughter)
Seriously, a mudroom, right?
Literally a room for mud,
when didn’t always have a bedroom growing up,
and definitely not one that wasn’t shared by one or two other people.
If only my ten-year-old self could see me today –
I never knew that I could be so proud of being myself,
making decisions that I want to make,
having the option to turn down a job or career that isn’t a good fit for me,
having the financial freedom to support my family
and not have to rely on government assistance
to keep the lights on or food on the table.
I never imagined how stable my life could be,
but, you see, it’s others that imagined it for me.
They took notice and made the offer to show me how valuable I am,
and exposed to opportunities that could offer me a better life.
And these individuals were just everyday people.
They didn’t feel bad for me
or make me feel that it was the worst thing
that our family was on government assistance.
They didn’t think that they were helpless.
They took notice and took the time,
they made the time,
to understand my experience,
in order to maximize my potential.
So, can I be anything I want to be?
Yes, I can,
and you can be part of that difference.
Thank you.
(Applause)
”
Be First to Comment