“I have never once told my kids what I do for a living. It was never my intention to exploit them as an excuse to make them feel bad about themselves. When my youngest kid asked what I did for a living, I would always grudgingly reply that I was a worker.
Every day before I went home, I cleaned up in the public restrooms to keep them from noticing what I had been doing all day. Because of what I did, they wouldn’t be able to detect that I was working. My girls’ education needed to be advanced, so I enrolled them in school. I wished for them to behave respectably around others. I never wanted someone to treat me or my identity with less respect than I was treated.
I was always pushed to feel guilty by others. My daughter’s college tuition was paid for entirely out of my wages. Instead of using the money to purchase a new shirt, I opt to spend it to purchase books for them. I only asked that they earn my respect in return for our partnership. I once worked as a housekeeper.
The day before the deadline for college applications, I was unable to come up with the money for my daughter’s application fees. I was unable to work that day. I sat down next to the trash can and made a concerted effort to hold back my emotions. Everyone in the workplace was staring at me, but nobody approached me to start a conversation. I was miserable because I had failed. When my daughter challenged me about the admittance charge after I got home, I was unsure about how I would reply. My family’s income is really low. I had believed that someone on a low income could never be lucky.
When the shift was over, every cleaner came over to me, sat down next to me, and asked whether I thought of them as brothers. They quickly gave up their daily pay before I had a chance to respond. When I attempted to deny everyone, they challenged me and said that while they would be delighted to forgo lunch today if necessary, their daughter had to attend college. I didn’t know what to say. I skipped the shower that day and went home after changing into my cleaning attire.
The last of my oldest child’s university courses are about to conclude. Right now, three of them won’t let me go for work. While my oldest daughter works a part-time job, the other three of my daughters are responsible for paying for their own schooling. My oldest daughter is the one that drives me to work the most of the time.
She not only feeds me, but all of my employees as well. They mock her and comment on how frequently she feeds them. My daughter pleaded with them, “Pray for me that I can feed you all, every day, since all of you starved for me that day so that I could become what I am now. They essentially starved for her to become the person she is now, to put it another way. I no longer feel like a beggar. How could a person with so many kids live in poverty? – Idris