Jacquiline Smith

     Some people say that you are where you come from. Well, if that statement does apply to me, I must be a lot of things. Growing up in foster care has been a very confusing time for me. Since the age of two, I have been bounced around all over Illinois, living with all sorts of people. I have lived with people who were middle-class citizens who owned nine-bedroom mini-mansions, to people who were lower-class citizens living in the projects. Fitting in with the other kids in elementary school as well as high school was not always easy. It sort of depended on what type of foster parents that I had at the time. If I had what I considered good foster parents, I was okay, because they would buy me all the latest brands. But if I had what I considered to be bad foster parents, I would always receive hand-me-downs and I was almost always tacky. So socially I fit in seasonally with the popular kids. Fitting in was one thing, but finding a boy who liked me was even tougher. By the time I was a sophomore in high school, my attraction to boys sky-rocketed. The only problem was that my foster parent at the time was not as big on fashion as she should have been, and she continuously informed me that the agency barely gave her enough for my room and board, let alone new gym shoes or designer clothes. So by the summer I took on a full time job at McDonald's. I made a vow to myself that I was going to be the most popular girl in school .I would make all the hottest guys want me, and all the girls envy me. Back then if you would've told me that all this was a waste of time, I would have laughed. If you would've told me that if a guy didn't appreciate me for the person I was and not the kind of clothes I wore, I would've called you insane.
     What made me realize that class didn't matter? Senior year in high school I was living alone. I ran away from my foster parent and rented out my own apartment. I had to work two jobs to pay the rent………. It was tough. I had my own, so it was cool, but I couldn't afford to, as they say: “Keep Up with the Joneses”. So my wardrobe took a turn for the worse. If I didn't show up for school with my AMC movie theater uniform on, it was jeans and a baggy sweater. I barely combed my hair, and the people who I thought were my friends slowly turned their backs on me. I didn't have a friend in the world, and I was really depressed. Then one day it occurred to me…”why should I waste time trying to be accepted when I have responsibilities?” They had parents who spoiled them, while I worked to get everything I had.
      After about eight months of living on my own, I finally moved with another foster parent. Once again I could afford to rock the latest designer clothes and shoes, but it wasn't the same. I no longer did it for my peers' approval or to make someone else feel lower than myself because they couldn't afford it. I did it for me. See, to me it doesn't matter how much money you have, or the kind of car you drive. What matters is the person you are and your goals in life. That's what makes each person unique.