What Survival Lessons Does 'Born A Crime' Teach About Poverty?

Los Angeles was supposed to be my home. Instead, it had always felt like a golden cage. The Smith mansion stood tall behind iron gates, glittering with wealth and silence. Servants bowed. Cameras watched every corner. And the man who called himself my uncle smiled sweetly for the world while hiding knives behind his back. I was seventeen when I heard the truth. “He will take care of the girl tonight,” my uncle said over the phone, his voice calm. “Make it look like an accident.” The girl. He meant me. Fear became the only thing that kept my legs moving. I ran from the driver who was meant to take me home, sprinting through unfamiliar streets until the bright city lights disappeared and the world turned darker. Detroit. Wrong place. Wrong time. Engines roared in the distance when I saw him. A man sitting on a black motorcycle like a shadow carved from danger. Tattoos curled up his neck. His eyes were cold enough to freeze the night. Everyone knew men like him were monsters. But monsters were sometimes the only ones who could save you. I jumped onto the back of his motorcycle and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Please,” I whispered. “Help me.” That single moment would destroy his life. And change mine forever. *******

The contractions were ripping me in two. My vision was going dark. My husband, Don Vittorio, the man who ruled Chicago, squeezed my hand. His dark eyes burned with love. "Just a little longer, mia cara. You'll meet our baby soon." Sweat poured down my face. I still found the strength to smile for him. Then a nurse walked in. She held a syringe. I thought it was to stop the pain. But Vittorio’s hand fell away. He took a single step back. The needle sank into my arm. I heard Vittorio’s voice. It was cold steel. "Dose her carefully. She holds on until midnight. Not a minute sooner. Not until after Ornella delivers." And then I knew. He thought I married him for the money. He was stopping my labor. All for a sick Falcone family rule: the first son born is the next heir. Pain tore through me. I reached for him. Tears streamed down my face. I begged him to stop. He bit his lip. His voice was pure ice. "My brother is dead. Ornella carries his only heir. You will do as you are told. You and your child will not steal his birthright." The drug hit my veins. The violent squeeze in my belly, like some invisible hand, just… stopped.

When I was at my absolute poorest, I got sucked into some kind of survival game. The challenge was to survive 7 days on just 50 dollars, and the winner would walk away with a million dollars. As someone who might as well be certified as a professional at being broke, I knew exactly how to survive on next to nothing. That prize money had my name written all over it.

After my SATs are over, I go to the office block with my poverty certificate to apply for a school loan. The staff member glances at my paperwork before turning my application down coldly. "To think that you're already swindling loans from the government at such a young age! High-income families like yours aren't lacking in the money department at all!" At first, I think this is just a misunderstanding. That is, until the staff member passes me the information on my parents. "Your parents have a villa worth 20 million dollars in the city center, whereas your younger brother goes to an elite academy that costs 800 thousand dollars' worth of tuition fees per year! "Tell me, how can someone from your family be eligible to apply for a school loan?" I'm stunned, to say the least. The entire village has raised me since young. For the past 18 years, I've been the only child of an extremely impoverished family. Little do I know that my parents have already formed another family of their own in the city…

Contains strong language: My parents died, my sister died, my brothers left, and I was left to a man who thought we were pawns in his play. You know the type of people who say "it gets better" they're lying to you, because it just keeps getting worse. How the hell did I end up in a gang? Well, this is that story

After my family is burdened with a debt of 5,000,000 dollars, I become the only person in the family who can no longer afford to "die". Dad is trampled in the mud by our creditors, protecting what's left of my school tuition fees even if it means breaking his fingers. He roars, "You can hit me, but don't you lay a finger on my daughter!" At that moment, Dad's small, hunched figure becomes a debt that I can never repay in my lifetime. Meanwhile, Mom kneels before the creditors, grovelling in the mud as she begs for a few more days of grace. Burdened by Mom and Dad's love for me, I drop out of school and go to work at a factory to make as much money as I can as quickly as possible to pay back the debt. Ultimately, my landlord kicks me out of my lodging on Christmas Eve. I'm also sporting a high fever in the snow, but my wages from the factory are still unpaid. I call Mom and beg her to transfer just 50 dollars to help me out. However, she doesn't sound concerned or anxious on the other end of the line and utters in disgust, "Haven't you gotten your wages already, Carolyn Swanson? "How dare you lie to us? Who taught you that? If you can't afford to buy the meds for your so-called fever, then you might as well just die!" Then, she hangs up on me cruelly. I grip my phone in my hands, watching the snow falling from the sky. My hands feel even colder than the icy ground at this point.