The Secret We Carry: What Poor Kids Never Tell You

The Secret We Carry: What Poor Kids Never Tell You

This is the truth behind our smiles, our success stories, and the dreams we chase. Not for pity—but for the ones who need to know they’re not alone.

✍️ By: Hamza Yaqoob

Final Year MBBS | Writer from a struggling background | I share real-life stories, silent battles, and truths people are afraid to say out loud.

There’s a secret I’ve never told anyone.

And if you grew up poor, chances are—you’ve kept it too.

It’s not about the hunger, or the broken shoes, or the unpaid school fees.

No. Everyone knows that part. Everyone thinks that’s the struggle.

But that’s not the secret.

The real secret is this:

You start pretending you’re okay so early in life, you forget what being okay actually feels like.

🧒 The Boy Who Wore Pride Like Armor

I was ten when I first felt it—that invisible weight.

My school had a “Lunch Break,” but I never brought anything. So I’d drink water slowly from the tap, acting like I wasn’t hungry.

A friend once offered me half his sandwich, and I smiled and said, “No thanks. Already ate.”

He smiled.

I smiled.

And my stomach growled in betrayal.

That day I learned something no textbook teaches you:

Poverty teaches performance.

You become an actor in your own life—playing the “okay” kid, the “grateful” son, the “strong” sibling.

And you keep the secret: that deep inside, you’re terrified the mask will slip.

🎭 The Mask Never Leaves

By the time I turned sixteen, I had mastered the game.

I wore pressed clothes borrowed from cousins.

I topped my class—because if I didn’t, nothing else would ever change.

I laughed in public.

And cried quietly in public bathrooms when there wasn’t enough money to buy the biology book the teacher said was “mandatory.”

Even now—now that I’m in medical school—I carry pieces of that child in my pocket like hidden notes.

Every time someone says, “You’re so strong,” I want to laugh.

Not because I disagree.

But because I know the truth:

I had no choice.

💔 The Silent Inheritance

You know what we don’t talk about?

The emotional debt poor children carry.

We feel guilty when we spend on ourselves.

We feel shame for wanting more than the basics.

We feel like if we rest, we’re wasting the one chance we have to break the cycle.

That’s the part nobody tells you.

We don’t just fight the world.

We fight ourselves.

I remember once being invited to a friend’s birthday party. Everyone chipped in for a gift. I lied and said I already gave my share. Then I skipped the party.

Not because I didn’t want to go.

But because Rs. 300 was enough to buy a week’s vegetables.

And how do you explain that to people who’ve never had to count coins to buy bread?

📚A Character: Sana

Let me introduce you to Sana, a character inspired by girls I’ve met through tutoring.

Sana is seventeen. Brilliant, kind, and speaks English so well you'd think she studied abroad. But her home has no internet, no washing machine, and sometimes—no electricity.

She studies under streetlights when the power goes out.

She’s the first in her family to dream of becoming a doctor.

And she hasn’t told anyone in her class that her father is a rickshaw driver.

Why?

Because no matter how hard she works, she still feels like less.

Because no matter how much she achieves, someone always reminds her:

“Your background doesn’t fit.”

But she keeps showing up. Quiet. Focused. Powerful.

Just like thousands of others no one ever writes about.

🧠 Let’s Talk About the Trauma

Poverty isn’t just about missing money.

It’s about missing safety.

You grow up scanning your parents’ faces to guess if today will be okay.

You become hyper-aware of silence—because silence usually means bad news.

You become responsible for emotions that are not your own.

This is called survival-mode trauma, and it lingers. Even when you make it out.

Some of us learn how to dream later in life.

Because when you're poor, dreaming feels selfish until survival is guaranteed.

🕯️ The Truth No One Says Out Loud

Here it is.

The big one.

Sometimes, the ones who “made it” are still healing from the childhoods they never told you about.

We post photos of stethoscopes, graduation gowns, scholarships, and success stories.

But few will admit the panic attacks, the guilt of leaving family behind, or the fear that everything could collapse overnight.

Success feels fragile when you were raised on uncertainty.

Why I’m Finally Saying This

Because someone out there is hiding their pain like I used to.

Smiling. Pretending. Crumbling inside.

This is for you.

You’re not ungrateful.

You’re not weak.

You’re not alone.

If you grew up poor, you’re already strong. Not because you wanted to be—but because life demanded it.

But now, it’s time you knew:

You’re allowed to rest.

You’re allowed to dream without guilt.

And you’re allowed to let go of the secret.

💬 Final Words

We all carry invisible stories. But poverty teaches us to hide them—to protect ourselves, to avoid pity, to keep moving.

But silence doesn’t heal.

Honesty does.

So this is me, cracking open the truth—messy, complicated, and real.

And maybe, just maybe, it helps someone else do the same.

Because the only way to stop carrying this secret...

is to finally say it out loud.