I have a problem. It’s a problem a lot of people have, especially those who struggle to believe in themselves. The strange thing is that confidence isn’t something I lack. It’s something I buried. I buried it a long time ago. As a child, I learned that confidence could make you a target. Joy could make people resent you. Strength could attract the wrong kind of attention. So I did what many survivors do: I hid the brightest parts of myself.

I have a confession. Some days, the state of the world feels so bleak that I catch myself wishing something dramatic would shake society awake. Something that would force us to confront the widening gulf between the haves and the have-nots. The United States is one of the wealthiest nations on the planet, yet millions of people struggle just to survive. It’s heartbreaking, and yes, it makes me angry.