By Shara Concepcion
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Photo by: jesslevey.com
I grew up in the city of all cities: New York. I was raised between the Bronx and Manhattan. When I looked up at my surroundings, I saw large, gray concrete masses surrounding me. As a kid, I was in and out of foster care — my dad used drugs and contracted HIV a few months after I was born, and my mom had bipolar tendencies. When my mom regained custody of me, we struggled to make ends meet. Everything in life seemed hopeless. Girls like me grew up to be dropouts or teen moms. Nobody ever told me that I could do anything I set my mind to, and even if they had, I probably wouldn’t have believed them — everyone I knew was down and out. Like hidden stars in a polluted sky, for me promise and potential were cloaked in the litter and grime of the city streets.
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