Where You’re Born

Everyone needs to visit at least one developing country in their lifetime. There, you’ll find the hustle is real. People up and moving before the first crack of light hits the pavement. Backs craned. Muscles churning. Faces covered in sweat. Stomachs running on fumes. Daily meals aren’t a given, but a battle, go hard or go hungry.

Where you’re born is like winning the lottery. Born here, you have the opportunity to go to university, maybe become a doctor. Born there, your education is the streets. Born here, you’re allowed to follow your dreams, be a struggling artist out of choice. Born there, you’re a struggling street vendor out of necessity. Born here, you have all the comforts of a place to call home. Born there, home is a distant memory keeping you up at night in your refugee camp. Born here, you’re guaranteed shoes on your feet. Born there, you’re guaranteed nothing.

Most Americans don’t even own a passport, yet they claim to live in the greatest county in the world. It took using mine multiple times before I came to that same realization. Every day I’m thankful for where I was born and the opportunities it gave me, for if I was born elsewhere, the simple act of writing this and sharing it with the world may not even exist.