In the United States , one can always hear the story of an underdog making a come up. The story is usually along these lines: a person who was born into a really bad situation, is blessed with talent, education, luck or a combination and perseveres in the end. Movies like “Slumdog Millionaire  and books like “the Pact” come to mind. You always hear about the success stories in this country. In every struggling region of the world, there is a “hero story” that eclipses the truth of the region. It is always about the ones who made it. The one who pushed through, broke the glass ceiling and made it to the top.  Despite the odds, they became the outliers to their demographic and inspiration stories to the masses.

I grew up loving these kinds of heart-felt stories, but as I get older  I often wonder what about the others? What about the people who are not protagonists in  amazing success stories?  What about the majority?

In my time in the Dominican Republic, I met some wonderful people making the absolute best of the situation they had. Hard working parents, dedicated teachers and children full of potential. As I played with a few of the kids and attempted to communicate with them (poorly, at least I made an attempt), I caught my self mentally sowing seeds into them. “This one will make it to the US and be a doctor. This little girl already shows leadership skills, she’ll be great some day.” I often do the same thing when I babysit a group of kids and what them interact. It’s a shallow game, basing a child’s future on their childhood mannerisms but we all seem to do it.

On the trip to the hotel from the Navarrete, I flip through the  photos I took with the kids (ps. the “Selfie” is a universal pastime with the right lighting)  I starting looking at all the beautiful faces. The  faces of the possible future doctors and leaders who would come to the US one day and “make it.” But then that annoying question appeared in my head again.  What about the others? What about the kids who do not  grow up and move to the states? what about the kids who stay in their home towns and start families?  Do they make it too? Can they make it? and  what does that mean anyway? The neighborhood in Navarette where we worked is a very poor region. Electricity and clean water is scarce, family homes are the size of garages in the United States and government support appears to be absent. In a place like this , is it possible to live this way and honestly say “I am happy, and I made it?”

A part of me wants to believe that these people can truly live happy lives, that the have adapted to their struggles and have uncovered to true happiness that many 1st world people have forgotten. Another part  of me sees that the happiness I am wishing for is not a right for all people, it sees that like hot water and wifi, happiness is a gift for the few and the many are left with acceptance , compliance or contempt. I hate that second part, but I need that second part. That second part will not let me for get those faces in D.R. That second part will not provide me comfort for all the privilege I did not work for.  That second part stares me back in face every day, saying “You already made it! Now what are you going to do for them?” It’s the second part that challenges me to not live in the fantasy of life that the underdog stories provide. It is not the 1 in a million story that need the attention, it is the other 999,999 stories that do.