I struggle to relate to wealthy people. I blame my bias growing up in a working-class family where my parents have to choose between putting food on the table or paying the month’s rent. I struggle to ignore people experiencing homelessness, especially as I grow and these bills just wrap around my wrists like handcuffs. Back in Washington, DC, I walked by a man rattling his cup for change, swimming in a sea of suits and ties, ignoring him. My hometown’s small, and we know most of the visibly homeless by name, and so I stop, disrupting the morning rush and dig deep into my pockets. Gil crams my throat as I realize I have no change, and so I stand there, really awkward. Hey, man, I’m dry today. I’m sorry. Nah, you’re good. The name’s Alvin. I don’t move as people brush by, annoyed. Hey, Alvin, what’s your story? He looks up as if seeing me for the first time. You want to know my story? There’s no monetary return in our exchange, only a brief moment of human connection. And in the following days, I saw more people walk by Alvin, and this simple question kept me up at night. We all have morals, right? We all have a heart, and yet why do so many wealthy people walk by Alvin and I don’t? And so I breathe. Can y’all breathe with me real quick? Hi, my name’s Key, and I’m a budding anthropologist and social entrepreneur. To some of my entire life story, I’ve come from rags to secondhand clothing. When I discovered the Frank Carrell Fellowship, I looked into this thing called public interest communications. And they realized, hmm, there might be actually a career out there for me. And so during the summer of 2019, I arrived in Washington, DC, and was wowed by the diversity. I mean, everyone was well-dressed and seemed employed. So I thought, what’s the wealth gap like out here, huh? And so on my first day traveling to work on the circulator bus, I remember looking out the window as national monuments towered over groups of tents and foreclosed buildings lined the streets. I know the signs of gentrification. And realized at that moment that Washington, DC was no different, and yet why do I always search for change? Luckily, my job in communications at Martha’s Table was welcoming. This 40-year-old nonprofit in Southeast DC is centered on early childhood education, food access, and community support. I started gathering the stories about the impact of Martha’s Table’s programs in the community, and with each conversation, I came to learn more about Southeast DC. That it’s made up of 180,000 people where one in eight face barriers to affordable housing. Nationally, millions face housing and security. I kept getting stuck on how. How can I help change this? And so I challenged myself to listen and breathe, opening up my conversations to the resilience of the community, not just what’s broken. I came to learn that Martha’s Table invests in people like Alvin, such as McKenna’s Wagon, a food truck that serves hot, healthy meals 365 days a year at no cost. They don’t save him, y’all. Martha’s Table is a bridge to resources, and Alvin knows he has a seat at the table. And to me, that’s change. I finally knew what I had to do as a storyteller and an advocate. If I’m to help bridge this wealth gap thing, I needed to be the change I searched for, and Alvin deserves. So when I met my first donor at Martha’s Table, I didn’t avoid the interaction. I embraced it. I asked, can I tell you a story? Because I saw this as a moment to build a bridge. And she nodded. On my way to work, I always passed this man named Alvin who was experiencing homelessness, and I stopped and asked him his story. I stopped because I see myself in him. He’s homeless because of debt. He’s homeless because freedom costs money, and money costs freedom. And then costs just keep stacking with debt as it’s backing, and so he waits for change. And she nods, remembering all of the people like Alvin that she walked by and did not offer change. And so she asks, how can I help? How can you help? The next time you walk by someone like Alvin, don’t just give him change. Be the change. You know, be a resource. I carried around hygiene kits in Washington, DC with condoms and protein bars and tampons. I even made this resource guide about the resources at Martha’s Table. How can you be the bridge in your hometown? How can you help connect people to resources like Martha’s Table? I mean, M.T. helps a lot of people, but they just can’t reach everyone. So show up and listen. You’ll be more than a communicator. You will be an advocate able to translate Alvin’s story into systemic change. You and you and you are the bridge. So cross that wealth gap because I could be him and he could be you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.