This article was written by my roommate, Jese Camilo, for a course called Race and Class in America. It was the best paper in his class.

When Jese and I first met, we had an instant connection because he reminded me of a lot of my Dominican baseball teammates. Jese's mom often comes up and makes food such as rice and beans or flan, which is the only food I have ever had that is comparable to my mom's Italian cooking. This piece describes his life growing up in Reading, PA and how his reality changed when he came to a privileged school like Lehigh.

Don’t get me wrong; I’ve been poor my whole life, but I always felt rich.

Reusing hand-me-downs, nothing unusual for me; however, when you’re poor, it’s never cool to look poor.

My brothers and I, you see, always shared.

What’s theirs is mine and what’s mine is mine since I’m the oldest... not really.

Eating out didn’t always sit right with me ‘cause Mami’s cooking always tasted better anyway, and if what’s ethnic is foreign and foreign is looked down upon, then I’m incapacitated on the floor.

Oh, but I’ve had a taste of the outside throughout my youth.

They look: zoo animals, they assume: Fox News.

They think I’m a dumb po’ boy, but I bet you can’t hit a bottle cap with a stick or could tell someone who Richard Feynman was. (Go ahead, look it up.)

Growing up in a disadvantaged environment I was subjected to prejudice traversing through spaces not built for me. What does that even mean? The disadvantaged part, or that I can’t go to the pool in the suburb near me? I don’t even know ‘cause I thought I had the world right there by my porch steps. My world was shaken to the core at one point in my life… thanks Lehigh. My first year at this institution changed everything about my perception of self and how I felt towards my upbringing more than I could have imagined.

Porches, BMW’s, Range Rovers.

I only ever saw these going through the nice neighborhoods and now I live in one.

Nothing familiar until Faux Friday when I got a taste of South Bethlehem. The asphalt, commotion of people and run down cars. Finally, we’ve got some colored folk around here cause I feel like I’ve been staring at a blank page.

Met my roommate, seemed like a cool guy. He’s Latino, but not really cause he plays hockey and talks like we’re at a gala.

Unpacking.

Please don’t tell me that half of his closet is filled with just jackets because if so, I felt really small.

I had one blue and white sweater from American Eagle.

He had more jackets than I had shirts.

Going off to break I had the nerve to ask, “Why aren’t you packing?” He goes,

“These are only some of my clothes, I have most of them at home.”

Fabric never had such a power over me before.

This is probably why “so many low-income students fall from the college ranks”. All of that seemed theoretical to me. Culture shock? What are thooooooose?

The only shock that ever comes around is when they find out I’m from the hood, was born in the Dominican, AND speak well.

I never try to peek, but when my hall mates open their cabinets I can’t help but notice that which lacks in mine. Boxes of protein bars, candies, assortments of flavored nuts, and a plethora of Clif bars. I had some stuff, but it was never enough to last me the semester. Snacks were never a thing for my household.

“Tienes hambre? Pues come de lo que hay.”

My mother always said to just eat what we had which almost always meant the leftovers from the previous meal. I guess we never had snacks ‘cause we’d always eat that stuff right away, and she never bought more. My dad doesn’t work a lot and when he does, it doesn’t bear enough fruit. It’s complicated.

I tell my friends that my mom is in school studying Early Childhood Education.

My father got an Associate’s in Electronics Engineering, but he’s struggling ‘cause jobs are like single women now lookin’ for the Bachelor’s.

Anyway.

Don’t get me wrong, I learned that people actually take casual trips to Cancun like they were going to CVS.

C’mon man, you don’t have a beach house in the islands and drive your own Bat-Mobile?

You don’t rock that Louis, Givenchy, Gucci?

Your shirt looks cool and all, but my Vineyards Vines cost me $42.00.

IT LOOKS STUPID ANYWAY. Your Sperry’s are plain, but at least you don’t have to think about your parents drowning in debt. You won that one.

You go to a nice school, come from a nice home and live life vicariously through the things you buy and people you associate yourself with. It was expected of you to go and graduate. You’ll get a good job thanks to that network you inherited. It was ascribed to you from birth. Getting a job is something to do, but to me, it’s a means of survival. I need to achieve that which was given to you. I don’t come here for just me, but for the family that raised me in hopes we can ride this storm out and not sink. That’s what being poor is, and is what coming to Lehigh taught me.