AI, Robots, Jobs and Poverty: Who Will Benefit from the AI Revolution?

 

AI, Robots, Jobs, and Poverty: Who Will Benefit?

I've been thinking a lot about artificial intelligence and what it will eventually do to jobs.

Not just next year. I'm thinking ten, twenty, fifty, even a hundred years from now.

I've spent much of my life around technology, and I've seen technology eliminate jobs before. Computers eliminated jobs. Automation eliminated jobs. The Internet destroyed entire businesses.

But they also created new ones.

That's why some people say we shouldn't worry about AI. Workers have always adapted to new technology.

They're right.

But I'm not buying it.

This Time May Be Different

Past technology usually replaced a particular human ability.

A tractor replaced muscle.

A calculator replaced arithmetic.

A word processor replaced a typewriter.

Industrial robots replaced repetitive movements on assembly lines.

AI is different because it is beginning to automate something much broader:

Thinking.

AI can already write, analyze information, translate languages, create computer code, recognize images, answer questions, and solve problems.

Now give AI a body.

I think of AI and robotics somewhat like a computer.

AI is like the operating system and software.

Robotics is like the physical computer.

The comparison isn't technically exact, but the idea is simple.

AI provides the intelligence. Robotics is the hardware.

Combine them and you have something much more powerful.

AI alone can't crawl under someone's house and repair a leaking pipe.

An AI-controlled robot certainly will be able to.

The same principle can be applied to mechanics, electricians, construction workers, farmers, warehouse workers, truck drivers, factory workers, cooks, cleaners, and countless other jobs.

Physical jobs may take longer to automate because the real world is messy and unpredictable.

But longer doesn't mean forever.

AI Doesn't Have to Take Every Job

Here's something else that's easy to miss.

AI doesn't have to completely eliminate an occupation to create massive unemployment.

Suppose a company currently needs ten accountants.

AI makes each accountant twice as productive.

The company still needs accountants.

It just doesn't need ten of them.

The same could eventually happen with plumbers, mechanics, engineers, programmers, nurses, construction workers, and hundreds of other occupations.

The important question isn't:

Will my occupation disappear?

It may be:

How many humans will still be needed to do it?

Poor People Have the Most to Lose

This concerns me most when I think about people who are already poor.

It's easy to tell someone to adapt.

Learn AI.

Go back to school.

Change careers.

Get another certification.

That advice sounds reasonable when you have savings, reliable transportation, a good computer, high-speed Internet, and enough money to survive while you learn something new.

It's different when you're living paycheck to paycheck.

When you're poor, the rent doesn't wait while you learn a new job skill.

Neither does the light bill.

And your kids still need to eat.

I grew up poor, and one thing I learned is that poverty isn't simply having less money.

Poverty means having fewer choices when something goes wrong.

That's what worries me about the AI revolution.

The people with the fewest choices may be the first ones expected to adapt.

The Poor Person Has Always Had Something to Sell

Even someone who owns almost nothing has traditionally possessed one economic asset:

His labor.

The factory owner needed workers.

The farmer needed farmhands.

The trucking company needed drivers.

The construction company needed carpenters, electricians, plumbers, equipment operators, and laborers.

The poor person could sell his labor, his own two hands.

That's how millions of people climbed the economic ladder.

Learn something.

Work.

Earn more.

Save.

Buy a house.

Start a business.

Invest.

Build a future for your children.

But what happens if AI and robotics dramatically reduce the value of human labor?

What does someone with no assets have left to sell? His own two hands become worthless, but does his brain?

I think that's one of the most important economic questions of the AI revolution.

Universal Basic Income Is BASIC

One proposed answer is Universal Basic Income or UBI.

Some form of UBI may eventually become necessary if machines perform a large percentage of the work humans currently do.

But let's be clear about what UBI means.

The important word is:

BASIC.

It might provide basic food, basic housing, utilities, transportation, and other necessities.

It might keep people from starving or becoming homeless. So does working three jobs at someplace like McDonalds.  Now before McDonald folks get all pissed off at me for using their name, I'm just using them as a fast food example where most folks start a relatively low paying job but who may need to eventually move on to a better paying job.

That's important.

But it doesn't make a poor person wealthy.

It may not even make him comfortable.

The wealthy person might own the AI companies, robots, factories, data centers, land, and investments.

The poor person gets enough money to survive.

Those are not economically equal lives.

UBI can raise the (floor) basic standard of living. It doesn't eliminate the distance between the floor and the penthouse.

In fact, UBI could create a permanent economic class with enough to survive but very little opportunity to accumulate wealth.

That's not eliminating poverty.

That's making poverty more comfortable.

What About All Those Lower Prices?

Another argument is that AI and robotics will make everything much cheaper.

They certainly could make things cheaper to produce.

That's not the same as making them cheaper to buy.

Suppose AI and robotics reduce the cost of producing something by 99 percent.

Will the corporation reduce its selling price by 99 percent?

I doubt it.

Competition could force prices down a little.

But there's no guarantee.

If something costs a company $100 to produce today and automation eventually reduces that cost to $1, the company doesn't automatically have to pass the entire $99 savings to you.

Businesses generally charge what the market will bear or what folks are willing to spend.  Rich folks are willing to spend a LOT while poor folk do without.

If customers are willing to continue paying $150, why would a corporation voluntarily charge $2?

Maybe competition eventually pushes the price down.

Maybe the company lowers the price a little.

Or maybe a handful of enormous corporations control the AI, robots, factories, patents, and distribution systems and keep much of the savings as profit.

That's where corporate greed and concentrated ownership become part of the discussion.

Cheaper to produce doesn't necessarily mean cheaper for you to buy.

Follow the Money

Now combine that with UBI.

The government gives someone enough money each month for basic necessities.

He spends that money on food, housing, electricity, transportation, communication, and other necessities.

Those industries have become increasingly automated.

So where does the money go?

Back to the companies that own the automated systems.

Those companies earn profits.

Their owners invest those profits in more assets.

Those assets produce more profits.

Meanwhile, the poor person receives another basic payment next month and starts over.

The person survives.

The owner accumulates wealth.

That's why UBI by itself doesn't solve the problem.

Income allows you to buy things. Ownership allows you to build wealth.

Who Gets the Benefits?

AI and robotics could create extraordinary wealth.

They could make society more productive beyond anything we can imagine today.

But increased productivity doesn't automatically mean increased prosperity for everyone.

Imagine a factory that once employed 1,000 people.

Eventually robots and AI allow it to produce twice as much with 50 employees.

That's an incredible improvement in productivity.

But what happened to the other 950 workers?

And if the product doesn't become dramatically cheaper, who received most of the financial benefit?

The owners.

That's why whenever someone tells me AI will make everything cheaper, I want to ask:

Cheaper for whom?

Cheaper to manufacture?

Or cheaper for the person buying it?

And when someone tells me AI will create enormous wealth, I have another question:

Who will own that wealth?

The Safety Net Matters. So Does the Ladder.

I believe society needs a basic standard of living or a safety net.  I don't mean or suggest that folks should just stop working and let the government take care of them. I do believe that people need to contribute to society, work, earn a living.  That's today, but what if jobs were no longer available?  What if you once competed for one job in 10,000 but in the future you're likelyhood of finding a job is 1 in 100?

If machines eventually produce more food than we need, people shouldn't starve because a robot replaced their job.

But the safety net isn't enough.

People also need a ladder to climb out of poverty.

They need some realistic way to improve their lives.

To buy a better home.

Travel.

Save money.

Invest.

Help their children.

Build financial security.

And eventually own something themselves.

If AI reduces the value of human labor, we may have to think beyond UBI.

Maybe that means employee ownership.

Profit sharing.

Citizen investment funds.

Retirement accounts invested in automated industries.

Public investment funds that own portions of highly productive AI infrastructure.

Or perhaps something nobody has invented yet.

I don't pretend to know the answer.

But I think I know the question:

If machines eventually produce much of society's wealth, how do ordinary people get an opportunity to own part of that productive economy rather than simply receiving enough money to survive?

What Can Poor People Do Now?

We can't control what the economy will look like fifty years from now.

But we can prepare for what's happening now.

Don't be afraid of AI.

Learn to use it.

You don't need to understand how AI works any more than you need to understand your car's transmission to drive it.

Use AI to learn.

Ask questions.

Improve your writing.

Learn another skill.

Solve problems.

Understand complicated information.

Look at your own job and ask:

Which parts of what I do could AI or a robot eventually do?

Then ask:

How can I use that same technology to make myself more valuable today?

If you can learn another useful skill, learn it.

If you can save something, save it.

If you can avoid unnecessary debt, avoid it.

And teach your children how to use technology instead of simply consuming it.

None of those things guarantees success.

Life isn't fair.

Opportunity matters.

Education matters.

Hard work matters.

Luck matters.

Persistence matters.

But preparation can improve the odds. But the one thing I can't stress enough is when you do use something like chatGPT or other AI tools, use them responsibly and not as a way to try to scam someone.  You'll just end up in a place where the rent and food is free.  Most just call it JAIL.

And sometimes improving the odds is the best we can do.

The Question We Need to Ask Now

For most of human history, our economic problem has been:

How do we produce enough?

AI and robotics may eventually give us an entirely different problem:

We can produce more than enough. How do ordinary people get their share of the prosperity?

AI could dramatically reduce poverty.

It could also create one of the greatest concentrations of wealth in human history.

Both outcomes are possible.

The technology itself won't decide which one we get.

People will.

The AI revolution shouldn't only be about building smarter machines.

It should also be about making sure the people those machines replace still have an opportunity to build better lives.

Because the safety net matters.

But so does the ladder.

How Technology Changed My Life: The Story Behind Cheap Houses

If You Grew Up Poor, You May Recognize Yourself in Cheap Houses

See Cheap Houses on Amazon — Read the Description, Reviews, or Order a Copy

 Read sample 13 chapters for free on Amazon before you buy.

Maybe your family never called itself poor.

Maybe that was just how you lived.

You wore things until they wore out.

You learned that when something broke, replacing it wasn't always an option.

You knew there were things other children had that your family couldn't afford.

You understood that money mattered, even before you completely understood money.

And sometimes you learned not to ask for something because you already knew the answer.

If you grew up that way, you may understand Cheap Houses before you ever turn the first page.

Poverty Doesn't Always Look Like We Imagine It

I grew up in the coal camps and small communities of rural northern Alabama.

My family moved from one cheap house to another, looking for work and somewhere we could afford to live.

The houses weren't charming little country homes.

They were cheap because cheap was what we could afford.
Cracked walls.
Little insulation.
Few comforts.
Every dollar mattered.

As a boy, I worked wherever work could be found—picking cotton, hauling pulpwood, baling hay, and cutting fence posts.

I wore hand-me-down clothes.

I carried my lunch in a paper sack.

And when my shoes wore out, there were times when cardboard inside them had to do what a new pair of shoes would have done.

But here's something people who grew up poor may understand:
I didn't necessarily think of myself as poor.
It was simply my life.

When everyone around you is struggling too, poverty can look remarkably normal.

Maybe Your Poverty Looked Different

Maybe you didn't pick cotton.

Maybe you never hauled pulpwood.

Maybe you never put cardboard inside your shoes.

But perhaps your father drove an old car because there was no money for another one.

Maybe your mother knew how to stretch a meal farther than seemed possible.

Maybe clothes came from an older brother, sister, cousin, or neighbor.

Maybe one unexpected bill could throw the household into trouble.

Maybe you remember adults talking quietly about money when they thought the kids weren't listening.

Maybe you remember wanting something and deciding not to ask.

Different house.
Different town.
Different family.
Same feeling.

That's one reason I wrote Cheap Houses.

This Isn't a Story About Getting Rich

Cheap Houses: A Memoir of Poverty and Reinvention in Rural America isn't a story about becoming wealthy.

And it isn't a story that says if you just work hard enough, everything will turn out fine.

Life doesn't work that way.
Life can be unfair.
Where you start matters.
Opportunity matters.
Hard work matters.
Luck matters - more than most folks realize!
Persistence matters.

None of those things guarantees success.

But sometimes an opportunity appears that changes the direction of a life.

For me, one of those early moments came when I discovered something called "Future Cards" describing technologies that might someday become part of everyday life.

One described computers.
I had never seen one.
To a poor boy in rural Alabama, that world might as well have been on another planet.
But it showed me that another world existed.

At seventeen, I joined the United States Air Force as a medic. Over time, that path eventually led me into medical information systems and then information technology.

The circumstances changed.
The cheap houses were left behind.
But some of what they taught me never left.

That's Really What This Book Is About
Poverty can follow you long after you stop being poor.
It can affect the way you think about money.

Security.
Work.
Risk.
Opportunity.
What you save.
What you spend.
What you fear losing.
And what you consider "enough."

You can travel a long way from where you started and still carry part of that place with you.

You can leave poverty behind and still carry it with you

That is at the heart of Cheap Houses.

If Any of This Sounds Familiar, This Book May Be For You

I wrote Cheap Houses about my life.

But I don't believe poverty belongs to one person's story.
Millions of people grew up in families that worked hard and still struggled.
Families where money was always just a little too short.
Families who made do.

Repaired instead of replaced.
Saved what could be reused.
Went without.
And kept going.

If that describes part of your childhood, you may recognize something of yourself in these pages.
Not because we grew up in the same house.
Not because our lives followed the same path.
But because some experiences are understood without explanation.

Cheap Houses
A Memoir of Poverty and Reinvention in Rural America

Maybe you didn't grow up in one of my cheap houses.

But you may have grown up in one of your own.

ORDER CHEAP HOUSES ON AMAZON

Available in Kindle, paperback, and hardcover editions.

— Stevie G. Davis

Perfectionistic Paralysis: How Waiting for Perfect Can Keep You In Poverty

 

Perfectionistic Paralysis: When Waiting for Perfect Keeps You Stuck

There is a form of procrastination that doesn’t always look like procrastination.

You may be busy. You may be researching. You may be collecting documents, making lists, taking notes, rewriting your résumé, watching videos, asking questions, or preparing for the day when you are finally ready.

From the outside, it can look like you’re working toward your goal.

But you never actually take the first step.

That is what some call perfectionistic paralysis.

In technology, I’ve often thought of it as project paralysis. A project gets analyzed, redesigned, discussed, documented, reconsidered, and improved so many times that eventually nobody actually does anything.

Sometimes the problem isn’t laziness.

Sometimes the problem is that a person has convinced himself that he cannot begin until everything is perfect.

And perfect never comes.

It Looks Like Procrastination, But It Can Be Something More

Most of us procrastinate occasionally.

There are things we simply don’t want to do. We put off cleaning the garage. We wait until the last minute to do our taxes. We ignore something unpleasant until we can’t ignore it anymore.

Perfectionistic paralysis can look exactly like that, but the thinking behind it is different.

The person may genuinely want to do something.

He may desperately need to do it.

But inside his head there is a conversation going on:

I don’t know enough yet.

I need a little more information.

What if I make a mistake?

What if they ask me something I can’t answer?

I should probably research this a little longer.

I’ll do it when I’m better prepared.

That sounds reasonable.

That is what makes it dangerous.

Research on perfectionism and procrastination has found that fear of failure and excessive concern about mistakes can contribute to putting things off. Not all perfectionism is harmful—high standards can motivate us—but perfectionistic concerns can become a barrier when avoiding a mistake becomes more important than making progress.

At some point, preparation stops being preparation.

It becomes avoidance.

I Watched It Keep a Friend in Poverty

I have a friend who retired from the United States Air Force.

At one point after his military career, he was in deep poverty.

And when I say poverty, I don’t mean that he had to cut back on eating out or cancel his cable bill.

I mean he was literally digging aluminum soda cans out of dumpsters so he could sell them for scrap and put enough money together to buy his next meal.

For years, I urged him to file a VA disability claim.

He had health problems that he believed were related to his military service. But he kept putting the claim off.

He wanted to get everything together first.

He wanted all the medical records.

He wanted documentation.

He wanted to know exactly what he could prove.

He wanted the perfect case.

I kept telling him essentially the same thing:

You do not have to have the perfect case before you get started. If your claim is denied, you can always appeal with new evidence/documentation

There is an important distinction here. A veteran ultimately has to establish entitlement to VA disability compensation. Filing a claim does not guarantee that VA will approve it.

But you do not necessarily need to have every medical record, every doctor's statement, and every piece of supporting evidence sitting on your desk before you begin protecting your potential filing date.

VA even has something called an Intent to File. It allows a veteran who is still gathering information to establish a potential effective date and then generally gives the veteran one year to complete the claim. If benefits are eventually awarded, that effective date can affect the amount of retroactive compensation received.

That date can be extremely important.

In many service-connected disability cases filed more than a year after leaving active duty, the effective date is generally tied to when VA receives the claim or when entitlement arose, whichever is later, although there are exceptions depending on the circumstances. And some service connected medical problems don't even show up until many years after you separate from the military, some even 30-40 years of more later. Or they begin small during service but gradually get much worse over time.

So every month my friend waited potentially mattered.

Six months mattered.

A year mattered.

Several years could matter a lot.

Depending on the eventual disability rating, delaying a successful claim can potentially mean losing thousands—or even tens of thousands—of dollars in benefits that might otherwise have been payable.

And VA disability compensation is generally paid as a tax-free monthly benefit.

Meanwhile, my friend was digging through dumpsters looking for aluminum cans.

Think about that for a minute.

He Thought He Had to Prove Everything Before He Started

This is the part I could never seem to get him past.

He believed he needed to prove his entire case before filing it.

He didn't.

He needed to identify the health problems he reasonably believed were connected to his military service and begin the process. Just make a list, that's all.  And don't let the person helping you fill out the forms talk you out of anything.  Their job is to help you with the forms, not decide if you have a valid claim.  My own case when I filed, he told me I was wasting my time, what he actually meant was that he thought I was wasting HIS time.  I went from 20% to 100% in a year.  If I had listened to him, I would have never gotten more than 20% disability.

The investigation, medical evidence, records, and evaluation could continue from there.

VA may schedule what is called a Compensation and Pension examination—a C&P exam—when it needs additional information to decide a disability claim. Not every veteran needs one, but when VA schedules one, the examiner may review records, ask questions, perform an examination, or order certain additional tests. VA states that tests ordered as part of the claim examination are provided at no cost to the veteran.

That means the first step does not require knowing the final answer.

You don't need to know what percentage you might receive.

You don't need to know exactly what the VA examiner will find.

You don't need to predict the decision.

You need to start.

I don't know whether my friend ever did.

If he didn't, I suspect the reason was the same one that stopped him for years.

His case was never perfect enough in his own mind.

I Almost Missed Something in My Own Claim

I know how easy it is to overlook something because I did it myself.

There was an accident during my military career that I had nearly forgotten about.

I was driving to work when I was rear-ended.

The accident occurred off base.

The person who hit me was another active-duty military member who was also on her way to work.

For years, I didn't think much about it. In fact, I didn't think it would matter because I wasn't physically at work when the accident happened.

I was simply driving to work.

But the circumstances of that accident and the resulting medical condition mattered in my individual case.

The result was a 30% VA disability rating for that single issue.

My point isn't that every veteran who has an automobile accident while commuting is automatically entitled to VA disability compensation. Every case is different.

My point is that I didn't know what mattered until I started asking questions and going through the process.

Had I decided in advance that the accident didn't count, I might never have included it.

I would have made the decision for the VA before the VA ever had the opportunity to make the decision.

That is another form of perfectionistic paralysis.

We convince ourselves that because we don't know enough to guarantee the outcome, there is no reason to begin.

Then I Watched the Same Thing Happen With a Job

Unfortunately, the disability claim wasn't the only time I watched this happen to my friend.

He had been unemployed for more than a year.

He told me he couldn't find a job.

My son was working for a technology company at the time, and the company was trying to fill several positions.

I knew my friend's background.

I knew his experience.

And I knew he was qualified.

The biggest obstacle was simply getting him in front of the right people.

So I asked my son to help him.

My son reviewed his situation, helped prepare him for the interview, worked with him for several weeks, and got his résumé in front of the people involved in hiring.

This wasn't some random online application being dropped into a database with 500 other résumés.

He had an opportunity.

He had someone inside the company helping him.

He had been coached.

He had been prepared.

He had the qualifications.

He basically needed to show up, interview, and give himself a chance to get the job.

Then the day of the interview came.

My friend didn't show up.

Why?

He didn't think he was ready.

He thought he needed more time to prepare.

Seriously?

You had been unemployed for more than a year.

Someone inside the company had helped prepare you for weeks.

You had an interview for a good-paying technology job.

You were qualified.

All you had to do was show up.

But that voice inside his head convinced him that he wasn't ready.

So instead of risking an imperfect interview, he guaranteed himself something much worse:

No interview at all.

The opportunity disappeared.

And he went back to struggling.

Perfectionism Can Feel Like Protection

I think this is why perfectionistic paralysis is so difficult to recognize.

It protects you from something.

If you never submit the application, nobody can reject it.

If you never interview for the job, nobody can tell you that you weren't good enough.

If you never send the manuscript to a publisher, nobody can turn it down.

If you never start the business, the business can't fail.

If you never apply for the benefit, nobody can deny the claim.

If you never begin the project, nobody can criticize the finished product.

You remain safe.

But there is a terrible price for that safety.

Nothing changes.

You can't lose.

But you can't win either.

And sometimes not making a decision is itself the most expensive decision you can make.

My friend was trying so hard to avoid making a mistake that he missed opportunities that could have changed his financial situation.

He didn't fail the interview.

He failed to attend it.

He didn't lose his disability claim.

He may never have given the VA a claim to decide.

Those are completely different things.

Project Paralysis in Technology

I saw versions of this throughout my years working in technology.

Technology people can be especially vulnerable because we're trained to think about what can go wrong.

We troubleshoot.

We analyze risks.

We plan for failures.

We build redundancy.

We test.

We document.

Those are good things.

But there comes a point where another spreadsheet, another meeting, another design document, another risk assessment, or another round of testing adds almost nothing.

The project has to move.

I've seen organizations spend so much time trying to design the perfect solution that the technology changed before they finished designing it.

By the time the perfect system was ready to be implemented, it was already obsolete.

There is a reason the technology world learned to build prototypes, pilot projects, minimum viable products, test environments, and version numbers.

Version 1.0 doesn't have to be Version 10.0.

You start with what works.

Then you improve it.

Life works much the same way.

Stop Asking Whether You're Ready

One of the questions we ask ourselves too often is:

Am I ready?

Sometimes that is the wrong question.

Try asking:

Am I ready enough to take the next step?

Those are very different standards.

You may not be ready to build the entire business.

Are you ready to register the domain name?

You may not be ready to publish your book.

Are you ready to finish Chapter One?

You may not know everything required for a VA disability claim.

Are you ready to start an application or submit an Intent to File?

You may not feel ready for the job.

Are you qualified enough to attend the interview?

You don't have to solve the entire problem today.

You only have to do the next thing.

Break the Problem Into Pieces

When something feels overwhelming, make the first step almost ridiculously small.

Don't write:

File my disability claim.

Write:

Make a list of the medical conditions I think may be related to my military service.

Then:

Start the claim or Intent to File.

Then:

Find my medical records.

Then:

Contact a VSO if I need help.

Don't write:

Find a new career.

Write:

Update the first page of my résumé.

Then:

Apply for one job.

Then another.

Don't write:

Write a book.

Write:

Write 500 words.

Perfection looks at the entire mountain.

Progress looks at the next ten feet.

Learn the Difference Between Preparation and Hiding

There is nothing wrong with preparation.

Preparation is smart.

The trick is recognizing the point where preparation becomes a hiding place.

Ask yourself a few uncomfortable questions:

What information do I actually need before I take the next step?

Am I researching something that will change my decision, or am I researching because I'm afraid to make the decision?

What happens if I act now and I'm only 80% prepared?

Then ask the question people often forget:

What happens if I wait another year?

There is always risk in acting.

But there is also risk in doing nothing.

We tend to calculate the first one and completely ignore the second.

Sometimes "Good Enough" Is Exactly What You Need

I've spent a large part of my life around medicine, the military, computers, networks, corporate technology, and large technical projects.

There are times when perfection matters.

You don't want a surgeon saying, "Close enough."

You don't want the person configuring a critical network firewall guessing at the settings.

You don't want an aircraft mechanic deciding that a bolt is probably tight enough.

But most decisions in life aren't like that.

Sending a résumé isn't surgery.

Attending an interview isn't irreversible.

Starting an application doesn't lock you into every answer forever.

Writing the first chapter doesn't prevent you from rewriting it.

Taking the first step isn't the same thing as taking the final step.

That distinction matters.

Don't Let That Voice Make the Decision for You

I wish I could have convinced my friend of that.

Maybe nobody could.

Because ultimately, the person you have to convince is yourself.

There is always going to be a voice saying:

Wait.

You're not ready.

Learn a little more.

Fix one more thing.

Do a little more research.

Try next month.

Sometimes that voice is wisdom.

But sometimes it's fear wearing a suit and carrying a clipboard.

You have to learn the difference.

I'm not suggesting that people blindly rush into decisions without thinking.

I'm saying something much simpler:

Don't demand certainty before you allow yourself to move.

You probably won't have certainty.

You probably won't have every document.

You probably won't know every answer.

You may make a mistake.

You may even fail.

But failure after trying is different from never giving yourself the opportunity to succeed.

Take the First Step

If you've been sitting on something important because you don't think you're ready, break it down.

Forget the entire project for a minute.

Forget the final result.

Forget perfection.

Ask yourself:

What is the smallest meaningful thing I can do today that moves me forward?

Then do that.

Tomorrow, do the next thing.

I understand that isn't always easy.

Do it for yourself.

If that isn't enough, do it for your family.

But don't live in poverty, stay in a job you hate, abandon a dream, give up a benefit you may have earned, or walk away from an opportunity because you think everything has to be perfect before you take the first step.

My friend had an opportunity to potentially improve his financial situation through VA benefits.

He waited.

He had another opportunity to step into a good-paying technology job.

He didn't show up.

In both cases, the thing standing between him and the next step wasn't necessarily ability.

It wasn't intelligence.

It wasn't qualifications.

It wasn't even opportunity.

It was the belief that he needed to be more prepared before he could begin.

Don't let perfection become the reason your life never changes.

You don't need the perfect plan.

You don't need the perfect information.

You don't need the perfect opportunity.

Sometimes you just need enough information to take the next step.

Take it.

The School Bus Ride That Taught Me I Was Poor

 

The Day I Realized I Was Poor

Most poor folks don’t know they’re poor.

That may sound strange to someone who never lived it, but it’s true. When you grow up in poverty, you don’t wake up every morning thinking, I’m poor. You just wake up. You put on whatever clothes are there. You eat whatever food is in the house. You live in whatever house your family can afford, even if the floor is weak, the walls are thin, and the winter air comes through every crack.

You don’t know it is poverty.

You think it is normal.

At least I did.

When I was a boy in Alabama, I didn’t understand that other people lived different from us. I knew some kids had nicer things, but I didn’t have the words for it. I didn’t understand class. I didn’t understand generational poverty. I didn’t understand that some children went home to warm houses, full refrigerators, clean clothes, and parents who had a little money left after payday.

All I knew was the life in front of me.

Hand-me-down clothes were normal. Ragged shoes were normal. Bologna sandwiches wrapped up and carried to school in a brown paper sack were normal. Houses that looked tired before you even walked inside were normal. People speaking with a heavy Alabama accent was normal. Working hard and still not having enough was normal.

Then one day, riding the school bus, something changed.

A classmate started making jokes about my clothes.

They were raggedy hand-me-downs, the kind of clothes that had already lived a hard life before they ever got to me. To me, they were just my clothes. They were what I had. But to him, they were something to laugh at.

Then he asked me how long it took me to learn how to make candles from a turtle shell.

Everybody who heard it knew what he meant. It was not just a joke. It was meant to put me in my place. It was meant to say, You are different. You are beneath us. You are poor.

I don’t remember what I said back, if I said anything at all. Sometimes when a thing cuts deep enough, words don’t come right away. You just sit there and take it. You look out the bus window and act like it didn’t bother you.

But it did.

That night, I thought about what he said.

I thought about my clothes. I thought about his clothes. I thought about how he looked when he got on the bus compared to how I looked. I thought about the house where the school bus stopped to let him off. I had seen it before, but I had never really looked at it.

Now I did.

His house looked solid. It looked finished. It looked like somebody had money enough to keep it that way. It did not look like the cheap houses I knew. It did not look like a place where life was always one broken-down car, one unpaid bill, or one bad week away from falling apart.

That was the first time I really started comparing.

Not because I wanted to feel sorry for myself.

Not because I wanted to hate him.

But because his words forced me to see what I had not seen before.

The next few days at school, I watched him more closely. He wore nice clothes. Not fancy clothes, but clean, decent, fitted clothes that looked like they had been bought for him. He did not come to school in worn-out hand-me-downs. He did not pull a bologna sandwich out of a brown paper sack like I did.

Then I started looking at the other kids.

Some were dressed like me. Some looked like they came from the same kind of struggle I came from. But most were not. Most had better clothes. Better shoes. Better lunches. Better haircuts. They seemed more comfortable in the world.

Then I started listening to how they talked.

Some of them sounded more articulate. More educated. More confident. They spoke like they expected to be heard. They did not sound like they were already apologizing for where they came from. They did not get laughed at for their Alabama accent, at least not the way poor kids did.

That was another hard lesson.

Poverty is not just about money.

Poverty shows up in your clothes. It shows up in your lunch. It shows up in your teeth, your shoes, your haircut, your house, your words, and sometimes even in the way you carry yourself.

It shows up before you ever say a word.

And the painful truth is this: other people often see your poverty before you do.

I had been poor my whole life, but I did not know I was poor until someone else pointed it out in a cruel way. That school bus ride did not create the poverty. It only opened my eyes to it.

That realization hurt.

It hurt because I could not unsee it.

After that day, I noticed everything. I noticed when other kids had things I did not have. I noticed when my clothes were different. I noticed when my lunch was different. I noticed when someone talked down to me. I noticed when people assumed I was less intelligent because of how I dressed or how I spoke.

And I noticed something else too.

I noticed that poverty has chains.

Some of those chains are obvious. No money. No reliable transportation. Bad housing. Limited opportunities. Poor schools. Parents struggling just to survive.

But some of the chains are invisible.

You can start to believe that poor is all you are. You can start to believe that people like you are not supposed to speak well, dress well, learn more, earn more, or live anywhere better than where you started. You can start to accept poverty as your assigned place in life.

That is one of the most dangerous parts of poverty.

It teaches you to call survival normal.

It teaches you not to expect much.

It teaches you to stay in your lane, even when that lane is nothing but dirt, dust, and dead ends.

But you cannot escape something until you first realize you are trapped in it.

That school bus insult hurt me, but it also woke me up. I did not know it at the time, but that moment planted a seed. It made me start asking questions.

Why do they have more than we have?

Why do they speak differently?

Why do they seem to know things I do not know?

Why do some people expect a better future while others just hope to get through the week?

Those questions mattered.

Because the day you realize you are poor is not just the day you feel shame. It can also become the day you begin to fight back.

Not with anger.

Not with excuses.

Not by pretending poverty is someone else’s fault every time.

But by looking at your life honestly and saying, This is where I am, but this is not where I have to stay.

That does not mean escaping poverty is easy. It is not. Anybody who says poor people can just “work harder” has probably never been poor. Poor people already work hard. They work tired. They work sick. They work with bad shoes, old cars, empty refrigerators, and bills stacked on the table.

Working hard matters, but working hard by itself is not always enough.

You also have to realize where you are. You have to learn what you were never taught. You have to watch people who are doing better and ask what they know that you do not. You have to improve how you speak, how you think, how you handle money, how you make decisions, and how you see your own future.

That is not selling out.

That is survival with a plan.

I did not realize all of this as a child on that school bus. Back then, I only knew that I had been embarrassed. I only knew that a boy had made fun of my clothes and used one cruel sentence to make me feel smaller than I already felt.

But looking back now, I understand something.

That was the day I realized I was poor.

And as painful as that lesson was, it was also one of the first steps toward escaping the chains of poverty.

Because poverty can keep you blind if you let it.

It can convince you that hunger is normal, ragged clothes are normal, bad housing is normal, being laughed at is normal, and expecting less from life is normal.

But the moment you see it for what it is, something changes.

You may still be poor.

You may still be wearing the same clothes.

You may still be carrying that same brown paper sack lunch.

You may still live in the same cheap house.

But now you know.

And knowing is the beginning.

Realization can be a painful lesson, but sometimes pain is what wakes us up. Before you can break the chains of poverty, you first have to see them.

I saw mine on a school bus in Alabama.

And I never forgot it.

Why Poor People Make “Bad Decisions” — And What They Can Do Instead

I have heard people say poor people make bad decisions. Sometimes they do. But so do people with money. The difference is that when poor people make a bad decision, the punishment comes faster, costs more, and lasts longer.

When you are poor, you are not always choosing between a good option and a bad option. A lot of times, you are choosing between two bad options and trying to figure out which one hurts the least.

That does not mean every decision should be excused. It means the decision needs to be understood before it is decided.

Here are twelve decisions poor people are often criticized for making, why those decisions happen, what they should do instead, a practical plan, and places where struggling families may be able to ask for help.

---

1. Taking Payday Loans or High-Interest Loans

It is not always financial ignorance. Sometimes it is desperation with a deadline. When the rent is due, the lights are about to be shut off, or the car needs repair so you can get to work, a terrible loan can start looking like the only door still open.

Before taking a payday loan, look for a lower-damage option first. Ask the utility company for a payment plan. Ask for a short extension. Check local churches, charities, veterans’ groups, community programs, or trusted family. Ask an employer about an advance if that is available. If borrowing is unavoidable, borrow the smallest amount possible and do not roll it over.

The first step is to stop treating payday loans like a normal solution. They are an emergency flare, not a financial plan.

Make a list of every place you can ask for help before you are in crisis: utility assistance, food pantry, church, local charity, employer, family, and community programs. Keep phone numbers written down.

If you already have a payday loan, make a payoff plan. Pay it down as fast as possible. Stop the rollover cycle. That rollover is where the trap tightens.

Call 211 for local emergency financial assistance, they're open 24/7 and available in 180 languages. Check local credit unions for payday alternative loans. Contact a nonprofit credit counseling agency, such as the National Foundation for Credit Counseling. Ask local churches, Catholic Charities, United Way agencies, Salvation Army offices, or community action agencies about emergency rent, utility, or transportation help.

---

2. Buying Cheap Items That Cost More in the Long Run

Poverty forces people to buy what they can afford today, not what saves money tomorrow. A poor person may know the better pair of shoes will last longer, but knowing that does not put the extra money in their pocket.

For things used every day, try to buy the most durable version you can afford, even if that means buying used. Shoes, tires, tools, mattresses, work clothes, and appliances matter. A good used item is often better than a new cheap item.

Start separating purchases into two groups: temporary items and survival items. Survival items are things that affect work, health, safety, transportation, and daily life. Those deserve better choices when possible.

Before buying the cheapest option, ask one question: “Will this cost me more later?” If the answer is yes, slow down. Look for used quality.  It may feel like the cheaper one is the best choice because you don't have the money for the more expensive one.  But if the cheaper one only lasts 3 months but the slightly more expense one last a year, ask yourself which one is actually cheaper?

Do not feel ashamed for buying used. Poor people often waste money trying to look like they are not poor. A solid used item that works is better than a cheap new item that breaks.

Check Goodwill, Salvation Army thrift stores, local church clothing closets, community action agencies, Facebook Buy Nothing groups, school social workers, and local mutual-aid groups. For work clothes, women can check Dress for Success. For children’s clothing, ask schools, churches, local family resource centers, and community charities.

---

3. Ignoring Medical or Dental Problems

A lot of poor people do not ignore health problems because they do not care. They ignore them because they are choosing between medicine, food, rent, transportation, and work. When missing a day of work means missing a bill, pain becomes something you try to live with.

Do not wait until the problem becomes an emergency. Look for low-cost clinics, public hospitals, dental schools, charity clinics, government programs, veterans’ services, or payment plans. Even one early visit can keep a small problem from becoming a life-changing expense.

Make health part of survival, not something you deal with only after everything else is handled.

Write down local low-cost clinics, dental options, pharmacies, and government programs before you need them.

I'm an ex Air Force Medic and have worked in Emergency Rooms, ICUs, etc.  Now while I'm not qualified to give you medical advice, I can offer you general recommendations.  If something hurts, swells, bleeds, changes, or does not go away, do not ignore it for months. Call and ask about cost before you go. Ask if they have payment plans. Ask if they know of assistance programs.

Pride can get expensive when it turns a small problem into an emergency.

Look for HRSA community health centers, county health departments, Medicaid offices, free clinics, dental schools, public hospitals, prescription assistance programs, local health fairs, Veterans Affairs clinics for eligible veterans, and 211 referrals for medical or dental help.

---

4. Staying in Bad Jobs Too Long

When you have no savings, quitting a bad job can feel more dangerous than keeping it. People with money can say, “Just leave.” Poor people know leaving without a plan can mean eviction, hunger, or losing the only transportation they have.

Do not quit impulsively unless safety is at risk. Build an exit plan while still employed. Apply quietly. Improve one skill. Update your résumé. Talk to people in better workplaces. Save even a small cushion. The goal is not just to escape the bad job. The goal is to land somewhere better.

Give yourself a private deadline. For example: “Within six months, I want a better job.” Then work backward.

Update your résumé. Apply to a certain number of jobs each week. Learn one skill that makes you more valuable. That could be computer basics, driving, customer service, English, bookkeeping, a trade skill, or anything that improves your odds.

Do not tell everyone at work your plan. Move quietly. Bad jobs sometimes punish people who are trying to leave. Keep showing up, keep getting paid, but build your way out one step at a time.

Contact an American Job Center, Goodwill career services, Job Corps for eligible young adults, community colleges, public libraries, adult education programs, local workforce boards, veterans’ employment services, and Dress for Success or similar clothing programs for interview clothes.

---

5. Missing Bills or Paying Them Late

Many poor people do not pay late because they forgot. They pay late because the money was not there when the bill arrived. Poverty turns the calendar into an enemy.

Contact the company before the bill is late. Ask for a payment arrangement, hardship plan, due-date change, or partial payment option. Pay the bills that protect shelter, transportation, electricity, water, and work first. Avoid silence. Silence usually makes companies less flexible.

Make a simple bill calendar. It does not have to be fancy. Write down every bill, the amount, and the due date.

Then mark which bills are survival bills: rent, electricity, water, transportation, food, medicine, and phone if needed for work.

When money is short, do not hide from the bill. Call early. Tell them what you can pay and when. Get the agreement in writing if possible. I've seen friends that will ignore a car payment, only to have it impounded.  They think "oh my gosh, I have to have my car" and pay 3 times more that the original car payment to get it back.  They just wasted money they didn't have but somehow figured out how to come up with it.

Also, try to change due dates so bills line up better with paydays. Sometimes one phone call can prevent late fees month after month.

Call 211or visit 211.org. Ask about LIHEAP for utility bills, local community action agencies, Salvation Army assistance, Catholic Charities, United Way partners, St. Vincent de Paul, local churches, and state or county emergency assistance programs.

---

6. Using Rent-to-Own Stores or Expensive Payment Plans

Rent-to-own is expensive, and it often targets people who cannot qualify for normal credit and cannot pay cash up front. It sells the feeling of relief today while hiding the real cost tomorrow.  It feels like a great deal because you pay a small amount each month and if you rent it long enough, you own it.  However, you will pay the full cost several times over.

Before signing, ask: “What is the total cost if I make every payment?” Then compare that to buying used, borrowing temporarily, saving for a few weeks, or buying a lower-cost version. Rent-to-own should be a last resort, not a normal way to buy household items.

Create a waiting rule for non-emergency purchases. If the item is not needed for safety, work, food, or health, wait at least 24 hours before signing anything.

Always ask for the total cost, not just the weekly payment. A low weekly payment can hide a terrible deal.

Look for used appliances, community giveaways, family help, repair options, or temporary substitutes. Not having the newest item is better than being trapped in payments you cannot escape.

Check Habitat for Humanity ReStores, Goodwill, Salvation Army, local church furniture banks, Buy Nothing groups, community action agencies, local domestic violence agencies for families starting over, and 211 for household goods programs.

---

7. Not Saving Money

You cannot build an emergency fund when every month is already an emergency. People love to say, “Just save money,” but they usually say that from a place where there is actually money left to save.

Start painfully small. Even one dollar, five dollars, or ten dollars set aside matters because it creates the habit and gives a tiny bit of breathing room. The first goal is not wealth. The first goal is to avoid needing a loan for every flat tire, prescription, or late bill.

Start with a survival fund, not an investment plan. The first goal might be $25. Then $50. Then $100.

That may not sound like much to some people, but when you are poor, $100 can keep a small problem from becoming a disaster.

Put the money somewhere slightly inconvenient. Not impossible to reach, but not too easy either.

Do not wait until you can save a lot. Save something. Poverty teaches you that nothing matters unless it is big. That is not true. Small amounts are how you begin taking back control.

Look for free budgeting help from nonprofit credit counseling agencies, local credit unions, public libraries, community action agencies, United Way programs, Financial Empowerment Centers if your city has one, and IRS VITA tax-preparation sites so you do not lose refund money to unnecessary fees.

---

8. Spending Money on Small Pleasures

Sometimes people spend a little money to feel human, give their child a normal moment, or escape constant stress for one evening. Constant deprivation wears people down. A small pleasure can feel like proof that life is more than bills and struggle.

Do not remove all joy, but put limits around it. Create a small “no guilt” amount when possible. That might be a cheap meal, a birthday gift, or a family treat. The danger is not small pleasure. The danger is using pleasure to avoid a crisis that is getting worse.

Make joy part of the budget, but keep it honest. If there is only room for a small treat, then make it small and planned.

Find low-cost ways to feel normal: a home-cooked meal, a park, a movie night at home, a used toy, a walk, a shared dessert, a small family tradition.

Poor families need joy too. The key is not to let temporary relief create long-term damage.

Also, be careful with habits that become expensive: cigarettes, alcohol, gambling, daily fast food, or impulse spending. Those things can quietly drain the little bit of breathing room you are trying to build.

Use public libraries, parks and recreation programs, free museum days, school events, community centers, YMCA financial assistance, Boys & Girls Clubs, church youth programs, food pantries for holiday meals, Toys for Tots, and local Christmas or back-to-school assistance programs.

---

9. Keeping Unreliable Transportation

Poor people often cannot afford a good car, but they also cannot afford to be without one. An unreliable car can drain money, but no car at all can cost you your job.

Treat transportation as a survival tool. Prioritize repairs that affect safety and getting to work: tires, brakes, battery, lights, oil, coolant, and belts. Avoid cosmetic spending. When possible, build a relationship with an honest mechanic and learn basic maintenance.

Do not wait for the car to completely fail. Make a basic maintenance checklist: oil, coolant, tires, brakes, battery, lights, and warning signs.

Set aside a small transportation fund if possible. Even a little money saved for repairs can prevent panic borrowing.

When repairing the car, separate safety from appearance. A dent can wait. Bad brakes cannot. New rims do not. Poverty requires brutal honesty about priorities.

If the car is becoming a money pit, start planning before it dies. Look at bus routes, carpooling, family options, a cheaper replacement, or jobs closer to home.

Call 211or visit 211.org and ask about transportation assistance. Check community action agencies, local churches, workforce programs, veterans’ organizations, county social services, Medicaid transportation for medical appointments, public transit reduced-fare programs, and local charities that help with car repairs or gas cards.

---

10. Avoiding Banks or Using Check-Cashing Services

The poor often pay extra just to access their own money. Some people avoid banks because of overdraft fees, bad credit history, minimum balances, or distrust. That distrust may come from experience, not ignorance.

Look for a no-fee or low-fee bank account, credit union, prepaid debit card with low fees, or second-chance checking account. Avoid overdraft protection if it creates fees. The goal is to keep more of your own money and stop paying fees just to cash a check.

Start by adding up how much check-cashing, money orders, prepaid card fees, and transfer fees cost each month. Seeing the number matters.

Then look for a safer place for your money. Credit unions are often better than big banks for people starting over. Ask about no-fee accounts, minimum balances, overdraft rules, and second-chance checking.

Turn off overdraft if it has hurt you before. A declined card is embarrassing, but a $35 overdraft fee can be worse. The goal is not to impress the bank. The goal is to stop losing money to fees.

Check local credit unions, Bank On certified accounts, nonprofit credit counseling agencies, community action agencies, public library financial classes, United Way financial coaching programs, and Financial Empowerment Centers where available.

---

11. Moving Too Often or Living in Unstable Housing

Housing instability is usually not a lifestyle choice. It is poverty in motion. People move because rent rises, landlords sell, relationships break down, eviction is near, or the place they can afford is not safe or stable.

If possible, stabilize housing before upgrading lifestyle. Keep records of rent payments. Avoid informal agreements when possible. Understand lease terms. Communicate early if rent will be late. Before moving, calculate the real cost: deposit, transportation, missed work, school disruption, utility hookups, and stress.

Treat stable housing like a foundation. Before spending money on wants, protect the roof over your head.

Keep proof of every rent payment. Get receipts. Save text messages. Keep copies of agreements. Poor people often get hurt because everything is verbal and nothing is documented.

If rent will be late, communicate early. Do not disappear. Some landlords are unreasonable, but silence almost always makes things worse.

Before moving, write down the full cost. Not just rent. Include deposit, utilities, transportation, lost work time, school changes, and moving help. Sometimes a cheaper place is not cheaper once all the hidden costs are counted.

Call 211or visit 211.org for rent and eviction-prevention programs. Check HUD housing resources, local public housing authorities, Legal Aid, LawHelp, community action agencies, Salvation Army, Catholic Charities, St. Vincent de Paul, domestic violence shelters if safety is involved, and county emergency rental assistance programs.

---

12. Giving Up Too Soon — Or Never Trying

That may look like laziness from the outside, but it may actually be exhaustion from years of disappointment. Poverty can teach a person not to hope too much because hope hurts when it keeps getting crushed.

Do not try to fix your whole life at once. Pick one small area where progress is possible: one application, one class, one phone call, one repaired relationship, one saved dollar, one better habit. Poverty can make the future feel impossible, so the first victory is proving that one thing can still move.

Choose one fight at a time. Not twelve. Not your whole life. One.

Maybe the first fight is getting a better job. Maybe it is fixing your license. Maybe it is saving $50. Maybe it is finishing a GED, learning a skill, getting sober, leaving a dangerous relationship, or finally going to the doctor.

Write down the next step so small that you cannot talk yourself out of it. Then do it. After that, write the next one.

Progress does not always feel like victory. Sometimes progress is just not quitting today. Sometimes it is making one phone call you were afraid to make. Sometimes it is showing up again after life has knocked you down.

I know what it feels like to come from a place where the future looks like something other people get to have. But I also know that small steps matter. They may not change everything overnight, but they can change the direction of your life.

Free places to look for help:
Look for support through 211, community mental health centers, churches, peer support groups, public libraries, adult education programs, American Job Centers, Goodwill career programs, Job Corps for younger adults, veterans’ organizations, recovery groups, and local nonprofit counseling services.

---

Closing Thought

Poor people do make bad decisions sometimes. But the truth is, poverty creates pressure that other people do not always understand. It shortens the timeline. It limits the choices. It makes every mistake more expensive.

The answer is not to shame poor people. Shame does not teach. Shame does not fix a broken car, pay a bill, heal a toothache, or find a better job.

The answer is to understand the pressure, make better decisions where possible, and build a plan one step at a time.

Because sometimes escaping poverty does not begin with one big miracle.

Sometimes it begins with one better decision made under pressure.

If you found these suggestions helpful, please support this blog by signing up for e-mail posts or leaving a comment, and telling others about it.  It only costs a few minutes of your time and you'll help others in the process.

Get New Posts by Email

I write about poverty, survival, hard lessons, and building a better life.

If this kind of writing speaks to you, subscribe below and I’ll send new posts and updates when they are published.

No spam. No nonsense. You can unsubscribe anytime.

Subscribe to New Posts

Your email will only be used to send updates from this blog. I will not sell or share your information.

Why Poverty Changes a Child: The Hidden Emotional Scars That Last Into Adulthood

 

Poverty Does Not Leave a Child Unmarked

People often talk about poverty like it is only about money.

They think poverty means you did not have nice clothes, a good house, a full refrigerator, or parents who could write checks when something broke. And yes, poverty is all of those things. But that is only what people can see from the outside.

What they do not see is what poverty does inside a child.

What Poverty Does Inside a Child

Poverty changes the way a child thinks. It changes the way a child sees the world. It changes what a child believes is possible. And long after that child grows up, gets a job, pays bills, buys a house, or looks successful from the outside, those old scars can still whisper from the inside.

I know because I carried them.

Growing up poor is not just a childhood condition. It shapes the way you think, the choices you make, and the fears you carry long after the poverty itself is gone. It teaches your body to stay alert. It teaches your mind to expect disappointment. It teaches your heart not to hope too loudly because hope can hurt when it gets crushed.

A child in poverty learns things no child should have to learn.

You learn to notice the look on your mother’s face when there is not enough money. You learn the difference between a parent being tired and a parent being worried. You learn to recognize when adults are quietly counting pennies, stretching food, delaying bills, or pretending everything is okay when it is not.

You learn that shoes wear out before there is money to replace them. You learn that the electric bill matters more than your wants. You learn that asking for something can feel like adding weight to someone already bent over. A child should not have to understand that kind of math, but poverty teaches it early.

That kind of childhood does not just create memories. It creates instincts.

Even when life gets better, part of you stays ready for it to fall apart.  That is why poverty does not simply disappear when a person grows older. I wrote more about that in Poverty Does Not Just Disappear: What Carbon Hill Taught Me About Survival.

That is one of the deepest scars of poverty. It teaches you that security is temporary. It makes peace feel suspicious. It makes success feel like something you borrowed and will eventually have to give back.

The Inner Voice Poverty Leaves Behind

And then there is the inner voice.

People who never grew up poor may not understand this voice. They may think self-doubt is just a lack of confidence. But for many of us, it is deeper than that. It is not just fear. It is a voice built from years of being told, directly or indirectly, where we belonged.

That voice says:

Who do you think you are?

People like you do not make it.

You are not educated enough.

You are not polished enough.

You are not smart enough.

You are going to fail, and everyone will see it.

That voice is evil because it does not always shout. Sometimes it whispers. It shows up when you are about to try something new. It shows up when you fill out an application, start a business, write a book, speak in public, or reach for something bigger than the life you came from.

It tells you to stay small.

Not because small is safe, but because small is familiar.

That is one of the cruelest lessons poverty teaches a child. It makes survival feel normal and success feel unnatural.

When you grow up poor, you may spend years fighting battles other people cannot see. You may sit in a room with people who have degrees, confidence, family support, and a history of being encouraged, while you are silently fighting the feeling that you do not belong there.

You may be fully capable and still feel like an impostor.

You may be hardworking and still feel behind.

You may achieve something meaningful and still hear that old voice saying, “Don’t get too comfortable.”

That is what poverty does physiologically and emotionally. It trains the body for stress. It teaches the mind to scan for danger. It makes the future feel uncertain, even when the present is stable. It can make a grown adult react to life from the fear of a child who once had no control.

Why Poverty Is Often Mistaken for Weakness

And the sad part is, many people mistake those scars for weakness.

They see hesitation and call it laziness.

They see fear and call it lack of ambition.

They see someone struggling to believe in themselves and say, “Just work harder.”

But working hard was never the problem.

That is also why I believe the phrase “just work harder” does not tell the whole truth. I explain that more fully in The Truth About “Working Hard” and Why It Fails When It Comes to Poverty.

Most poor people I knew worked hard. They worked tired. They worked sick. They worked with sore backs, worn-out hands, and bills waiting at home. The problem was never a lack of effort. The problem was that poverty teaches you to carry a weight before you are old enough to understand what that weight is.

A child growing up in poverty often enters adulthood already tired.

Not physically tired from one bad day, but deeply tired from years of uncertainty, embarrassment, fear, and quiet survival.

And yet, here is the truth that matters.

That inner voice is not always telling the truth.

It may sound familiar, but familiar does not mean true.

Just because poverty told you that you were less than others does not mean you are. Just because you started behind does not mean you cannot move forward. Just because no one prepared you for success does not mean success is impossible.

I had to learn that the hard way.

There were many times in my life when I did not feel qualified. I did not feel confident. I did not feel like I belonged in the room. But I kept going anyway. Sometimes courage is not loud. Sometimes courage is simply taking the next step while that old voice is still whispering that you cannot.

One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was not to take every setback personally. I wrote about that lesson in How To Escape Poverty By Not Taking Things Personally.

Poverty May Shape a Child, But It Does Not Have to Own the Adult

That is what people need to understand about children who grow up poor.

They are not broken.

They are burdened.

There is a difference.

A broken person cannot be repaired. A burdened person can learn to set some of that weight down.

But it takes time. It takes truth. It takes someone finally saying, “What happened to you mattered, but it does not get to decide everything about your future.”

The scars of poverty are real. Some of them stay with you for life. But scars are also proof that something tried to destroy you and failed.

That child who grew up afraid, embarrassed, hungry, cold, or ashamed was not weak.

That child survived.

And maybe the most powerful thing we can do as adults is go back and speak to that child inside us with the words we needed to hear years ago:

You are not stupid.

You are not less than anyone else.

You are not trapped by where you started.

You are allowed to want more.

You are allowed to succeed.

And yes, you are capable of becoming someone poverty never gave you permission to imagine.

That belief matters because escaping poverty begins long before the outside world sees the results. I wrote more about that in Why Believing in Yourself Matters When You’re Trying to Escape Poverty.

Poverty may shape a child, but it does not have to own the adult.

That old inner voice may still whisper from time to time.

But now I know something it never wanted me to learn.

It was wrong.

Get New Posts by Email

I write about poverty, survival, hard lessons, and building a better life.

If this kind of writing speaks to you, subscribe below and I’ll send new posts and updates when they are published.

No spam. No nonsense. You can unsubscribe anytime.

Subscribe to New Posts

Your email will only be used to send updates from this blog. I will not sell or share your information.