缅北强奸

College was never on my radar. I spent the fourth grade through my sophomore year in high school homeless. My family, like many others, struggled during and after the recession. My parents worked very hard despite the economic collapse. Many nights, my father walked to and from work so my mother could use our van to take us to school. We spent six years never having a place to call home.

During those years, we routinely loaded up that van with our few belongings in search of our next place to stay. For the first few years we stayed with various family members, invading their spaces and their lives while trying to live our own. Eventually, we got a motel room, where for the next four years, all six of us lived and slept in one room.

Despite having everything we needed, my parents feared social services would get involved and take their children away, so my siblings and I were instructed to never talk to our teachers or friends about the truth of our lives. My sister and I made excuse after excuse to our friends as to why they couldn鈥檛 stay the night at our house. The hardest part of all of this was trying to act like my life was no different from the other kids in school who went home to houses with dinner on the table and places to study. My parents worked to give us the essentials we needed but were unable to give us a home, the kind my friends lived in. I immersed myself in extracurriculars and played travel softball with the help of scholarships. To the outside world, we looked like any other typical family.

In middle school, all the students who received free or reduced lunch were gathered in the auditorium where a speaker told us we all qualified for a program known as 21st Century Scholars. This government program covers four years of tuition for students from low-income backgrounds to attend an Indiana public university. Listening to this speaker made me think about my future. My preconceived notion that college wasn鈥檛 for kids like me began to fade. There was a slight glimmer of hope that my dreams could be obtainable. The thought, however, of leaving my siblings to attend college was painful. But then Mrs. Woodward, my eighth-grade guidance counselor, told me, 鈥淜atie, the best way to help your siblings is to show them their dreams are attainable. That kids in your situation can make it out to the other side.鈥�

I鈥檓 not sure how Mrs. Woodward knew of my family鈥檚 situation but I鈥檓 thankful she did. Her office became a haven for me. Her words didn鈥檛 carry much weight for a couple years because I didn鈥檛 believe I was smart enough for college. Slowly, I began to realize what a privilege the scholarship was. Throughout my life, I saw how hard my parents worked. I watched them fight through every barrier poverty presents. My father is a big believer of manifestation and never giving up on your dreams. Even when we were at our lowest, he knew one day we could climb out of it. I began to recognize the intergenerational patterns of poverty which existed in my family and figured out they would repeat until someone stopped the cycle.

My senior year of high school, I began frantically googling colleges. So many of my peers were already accepted into universities and seemed to have their whole lives planned out. I sat in the library of my high school trying to understand the college admission process, financial aid and the SAT. I didn鈥檛 go on college visits or have a 鈥渄ream school.鈥�

One day, I saw a poster for 缅北强奸, and I knew I had to apply. The bright tulips and smiling students on the poster spoke of a different world. Multiple visits to 缅北强奸鈥檚 website and an application later, I was officially a Screaming Eagle. I had a new place to call home.

I began my 缅北强奸 journey as an elementary education major. I knew I wanted to make a difference in the lives of kids. However, the further I got into my education, I felt like something was missing.

The aftermath of homelessness lasts long after making it out, and it followed me to campus. I often felt alone, unprepared and apprehensive about my future at 缅北强奸. I struggled academically and mentally during my first year. Housing insecurity continued its ripple effect into my young adult life.

It wasn鈥檛 until I began talking to another student鈥擨鈥檒l call her 鈥淛aycee鈥濃�攚ith similar experiences that I began to realize I wasn鈥檛 alone. That my family鈥檚 experience wasn鈥檛 so unusual. Far too many students in America experience homelessness before and during college鈥�42 million, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures. Other research revealed homeless students are more likely to experience physical and mental health issues, poor academic success and are less likely to graduate college.

Jaycee and I found solidarity with each other. The more we shared our experiences with others, the more we discovered others who had walked in our shoes.There is a misconception that homelessness looks only like a man living under a bridge or a person asking for money on the side of the road. During my family鈥檚 homeless years, we worked to blend in and keep our homelessness a secret. Many, many of us are one life stressor away from experiencing housing insecurity. There is a stigma attached to those experiencing poverty. Society views the homeless and those who utilize welfare as lazy instead of human beings with unique adversities which lead them to impossible situations.

I鈥檝e always had a heart for activism. My passion for helping others grew stronger the more I recognized I wasn鈥檛 alone in my homelessness experiences. I decided to take a social work course. I felt like my overpouring of empathy and yearning for social justice finally had a home. It鈥檚 quite a twist of fate to have spent my life avoiding social workers, only to become one. I鈥檓 now a first-generation college graduate and working on my master鈥檚 degree in social work.

Every college student has their own journey. My college beginnings were not traditional. However, the support I received from my family, my therapists, my professors and this University gave me hope. We can鈥檛 change our past, but we can work to change our future. It can be difficult to talk about these experiences, but I want people to know they aren鈥檛 alone. I will continue to advocate for those who are often left in the dark. I want to shine a light on the issues of poverty, homelessness and food insecurity.

In the center of 缅北强奸鈥檚 campus is a sculpture by Richard Hunt titled From Our Past, Toward Our Future. Here at 缅北强奸, I found friendship and support. I found a passion for social justice issues. I found a home. I found my voice. With my voice, I鈥檒l work to make the world a kinder place.