So, I’ve always been a humanitarian. Concerned about the well-being of others, and I’ve always been deeply touched by helping others in need. My perspective changed after I took a trip to India last year. I realized how blessed we really are in the U.S., and that when we need help, all we have to do is ask. I was haunted by the images of children barely old enough to walk stalking us for money each day. They were under the influence of drugs, and some even had self-inflicted wounds brought on by their slum lords. The sight was enough to make anyone burst into tears. I tried to brush them off, but on the second day when a child about the age of 6 clung to our car while we drove down the road, I broke down. That is a sight I will never forget. Our driver slammed on his brakes over a speed bump to make the child fall off. Locals are able to create a shield from the beggars, and have no emotions what-so-ever. The same as beggars here. Except, the homeless individuals here, choose to live that lifestyle. The children on the streets of Delhi would love nothing more than a roof over their heads, and to know when their next meal might be. Our government and various other organizations feeds, clothes and shelters homeless people here, whereas in India, you must fend for yourself: AKA join a slum. I was so disgusted when I came back and saw perfectly capable young adults begging for handouts. I wanted to show them pictures and scream at them just how fortunate they are. In America, I thought people were homeless because they were too lazy to work and wanted to live a life of drunkedness and homelessness.
That changed yesterday when I read this article posted in the New York Times. The NY Times is one of my favorite newspapers, and always has been. This reporter is doing exactly what I wanted to do when I first discovered journalism. I wanted to follow the lives of less fortunate individuals and share their stories with the world. That was my dream, and still is. This is a five-part story, and it’s extremely lengthy, but it’s written extremely well and totally worth the 45 minutes. It reads like a good book you can’t take your eyes away from. I was always sickened by the thought of welfare queens, and individuals that would rather live off of the government and keep producing more mouths to feed. But this story changed something inside of me. It gave me a deeper sense of the struggles these people go through, and the vicious cycle that they become accustomed to. They bring children into the equation, causing the problem to not only be theirs, but 7 others as well. The reason Chanel had children in the story is very selfish. She thought it was the only thing she could show that made her proud. That, and her marriage to another deadbeat. These issues are very prevalent today, not just in this one instance. The segregation amongst schools is a common problem, that exists here in Indianapolis as well. Children should not be punished for their parents misfortunes and mistakes, but unfortunately that is exactly what happens. Please, read this story and be thankful that you don’t have to endure what these children do each and every day.
http://www.nytimes.com/projects/2013/invisible-child/#/?chapt=1
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