Let’s face it, rich people can never truly help poor people by only giving them bags of rice.

Only a poor person understands the impact of poverty and what it does to a person’s mind. And even though I was raised in a middle-class family, got a college degree, had a professional career, I fell through the cracks, ended up a single mother, and lost everything. In essence, I became a sad statistic that befalls many women all over the world. My mind got altered from poverty, I suddenly found myself having to fill two roles: breadwinner and nurturer, and if it weren’t for my parents, I’d probably be homeless and impoverished. I definitely wouldn’t be here writing this. Writing is for privileged people.