Why I hate the poor - Follynomics
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I grew up believing I was poor. Not starving-on-the-streets poor. I was a white kid in Canada, with food in the fridge and shoes on my feet. But I didn’t measure poverty by census data, I measured it by comparison. And compared to the Joneses, I felt lack. One friend had a house twice as big, another the newest console, another a toy car you could actually drive. By the tenth friend, I stopped thinking wow, they’re rich and started thinking maybe I’m the one who’s poor. I began to look at my parents with suspicion. How was everyone else ahead of us? Even within my own family, some…
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