To Change My Future, I Had To Change What I Believed
The making of me
Home
I grew up financially disadvantaged.
Actually, that’s an understatement. What I meant to say was that my family was exceedingly poor.
It was the kind of poverty that meant no electricity. In turn, that excluded us from the conveniences most people take for granted, like having a television or a refrigerator.
Of course, without a refrigerator, there were many foods that we were unable to eat at home.
I studied using an oil lamp throughout much of my high school years. Its flickering light was a constant reminder of the way we were struggling to survive.
Like most little girls I really, really wanted a doll to play with. It was all I could think about, and the desire usually grew stronger around Christmas, a time when dreams felt just a little closer to reality.
And yet, no doll ever appeared.
Instead, my sisters and I had to make dolls from dried mango seeds. We’d play with them for hours, pretending that they were the dolls that we somehow knew we would never have.
I realized that Santa Claus, if he existed at all, never visited the homes of certain people. People like me.
