From “Dropout to Doctorate: Breaking the Chains of Educational Injustice” By Terrence Lester, PhD
I grew up in poverty on Campbellton Road in the city of Atlanta. As a teenager, I joined a street gang. I dropped out of school, and I experienced moments of homelessness – after choosing to leave home – and hopelessness. Many times, I didn’t think I would make it.
In my mind, I can still see the unfinished roads because the local government wouldn’t be quick to make repairs. The vacant lots. The Black businesses, holding on by a thread called community. The liquor stores and pawn shops, deep symbols of neglect and disinvestment, not to mention the school buildings that were never renovated when I was a child, leaving students with outdated textbooks and inadequate facilities. I can still hear the sounds of sirens and feel the fear of getting caught in the crossfire, which became part of daily life because of the hostile nature of trying to survive.
These circumstances and environments can lead to deep trauma in the life of a young person, young adult, or any adult trying to survive. Poverty, inadequate housing, a lack of guidance, and hopelessness all contribute to a deep sense of feeling stuck with the burden of nihilism. This type of environment requires immense resilience, grit, and a set of survival tactics that become second nature to any young person trying to navigate it all.
Even as a child, I had a deep understanding and intuition that education could give me the space to dream, escape, and imagine myself in places beyond my social context. But my environment had a more significant impact on my educational path than I would have wanted. Imagine journeying through such experiences while trying to produce good grades and maintain enough courage to get to school, sit in a classroom, and do schoolwork. The trauma from being raised in poverty makes it challenging to focus on learning when survival is the primary concern, let alone listen to a teacher teach about things that have nothing to do with your reality or existential experiences.
However, I want to preface my work in this book by saying that poverty does not mean less community, less brilliance, less courage or collective strength. In fact, many who navigate poverty exhibit extraordinary resilience, creativity, and solidarity in ways that often go unrecognized.
In another poem, “Government Assistance or My Soul,” Tupac challenges the stereotypes that often stigmatize those faced with poverty and unemployment. He makes it clear that not everyone who needs assistance from the government because they are poor is brought to that point because of personal failings: rather, they have been met with systemic conditions that contribute to their lack and suffering. Tupac’s powerful poetic words shed light on both the physical and emotional toll it takes daily to survive and grow under harsh conditions. The words in the poem communicate how poverty attacks one’s sense of self, altering how one sees the world and others.
I know this firsthand because I had my own struggles growing up in a single-parent home, seeing my mother work multiple jobs to take care of my sister and me. The trauma from family breakdown and poverty caused abuse, unhealthy communication, neglect, and other harmful traumas in my own life and the life of my family. My own encounters with trauma and poverty have given me a deeper understanding of the havoc they wreak on communities and lives, creating all types of emotional challenges that become nearly impossible to escape without proper support. It is a fact and reality that this happens more to Black children and children of color who are trying to find a way out of environments that have historical and systemic injustices tied to them.