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Feb 2014
“Do you have a heart?”
He asked, as he looked at me
Drawing assumptions of me by my clothing and attitude
“Yes…” I replied,
Uncertainly waiting for the next words
The words I knew he would ask
As he watched me eating with two friends
In McDonalds
“Will you buy me a meal?” he asks
“I really can’t right now” I reply
Knowing that there is a chance I could add money to my account
A chance I could go ahead and buy him something
“Do you have a heart?” he asks again
Now I’m not certain of if I do
I still don’t buy him anything
His next words are a shock to all those around me
“*******”
I pause for a moment
And make the choice to continue my conversation with my friends
Telling them about the TED Talk I watched about
“The Danger of a Single Story” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I don’t know this man’s story
Yet,
He doesn’t know my story either
Man,
Did you know that I bought this food I’m eating with food stamps?
I came into McDonalds and bought apple pies for one dollar
In order to have a place to sit down and eat
And use the bathroom
I walk out the door
Another man is begging on the street
He makes eye contact with me and goes
“No I mean her, she’s the one with the money”
I am not white privileged
He doesn’t know that what I have, I earned
My parents worked their ***** off for what they have
For what they have given me
I am not rich
I have had amazing opportunities
I have worked hard for them
I am extremely grateful and sometimes feel
Selfish
For what I do have
Who says that I should feel selfish for having enough money to eat?
Why does society dictate that
Because I am a white female and
Wear nice clothes
That it means I haven’t bought half my wardrobe from thrift stores
Or received hammy downs from my older sisters
Yes,
I have a lot of material items in my life
But no,
I was not handed everything in life
I have and am still working hard
For the opportunities I have in my life
My junior year of college
My bank account went down to where I couldn’t withdraw anymore or I would
Start losing money and get in trouble
That feeling of being poor
It didn’t sit right with me and maybe it’s true
Maybe I do have a cushion of money right now
But I made myself a promise that year that I
Would never be poor
I would make decisions in my life that would lead to
Prosperity,
Within reason
I would get ahold of and learn to control my
Willpower
The power to say no
The power to make certain decisions
To control my spending and
At least one aspect of my life
Which I really cannot control
At all
No,
I did not buy you a meal
Yes,
I wondered what made me make this decision
And yes,
Five to ten minutes later I heard glass fall to the ground
I turned and saw the alcohol
I heard you cursing everyone else out in the store
I heard you not really thinking about anything other than
This drug
You are on drugs
Am I a bad person?
Does it make me a bad person because
I do not give money or buy a meal for
Every single homeless person that I see or meet
Whether on the streets or in a
McDonalds
I made a choice
A decision
I have bills to pay
I feel that society dictates that in order to
Practice what you preach
You need to always be giving
But I feel as though
Within reason you can give
And within certain situations you can give
I choose to give
When I can see that a person
Is attempting to help themselves
By finding shelter
And going to a place that can help them
Rather than just feed their addiction
Tell me I’m hard
Tell me I’m not
Practicing what I’m preaching
But in this world
In this economy
In this life
How can you be completely selfless
At all times
And survive
How can you
Give all of what you have
Without keeping any bit
You can
I’ve seen it happen
And I know that
I’m a selfish person
And yet
I feel that self-awareness is the key to
Social awareness and that
You need to find yourself inside and
Help yourself before you can
Find others and
Help others
Yes,
I may be selfish at times
Yes,
I did not buy you a meal
Judge me,
If you will
Another person just bought you food and
You did not thank them because
You are trying your best to survive in your situation while
I’m trying my best to survive in mine
You don’t know me
You may know a single story of me
But that doesn’t define who I am
Or maybe it does
Overall though,
I’m human
Elizabeth Petersen
Written by
Elizabeth Petersen
515
 
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