I’m at a scary juncture in my life.

I’m fresh out of the military and entering this strange, familiar world where I’m coming back into poverty like amnesiacs ride bicycles. I’ve come to realize that no matter what I achieve in my life, there’s always going to be a part of me that’s just doing all of this to compensate for my own perceived lacking. When you grow up poor, the word survival takes on new and important meaning (I remember a conversation with my mother when I was 12 in which she told me that she was surviving so that I could have a chance to live when I grew up.)

Capitalist culture demands that we invest ourselves in consumerism. Unfortunately for those at the lower rungs, this means equating one’s self-worth with their bank account balance. There will always be those more introspective nights where the seeds of worthlessness take root and force me to dwell; they are a part of my foundation, cultivated for so long during my childhood in the type of place America tries to pretend doesn’t exist. I can’t help but feel ignored when ever I turn on the television and listen to politicians talking about representing the middle class. It’s always seemed to me like they skipped over a few economic brackets to get to that talking point. I think that’s one of the major reasons I’m so passionate about politics and public policy.