Invisible Child: Poverty, Survival, and Hope in an American City

by Andrea Elliott

In every measurable way, Star was better off than Dasani. She had spent her childhood in the same apartment, anchored to one place. She had only one sibling, and though her father was an alcoholic, her mother, Bonita, worked a string of jobs to cover the family’s $619 rent. Bonita fussed over each child’s graduations, starting in kindergarten. She believed that these mini ceremonies paved the way forward. From time to time, the family relied on food stamps. But they had a fridge and a stove, which helped them plan meals, stretching groceries to the end of the month. In Dasani’s family, food stamps could vanish with a few rounds of store-bought fried chicken. None of these granular differences needed airing when Star and Dasani met. The equation was simple: Star had a home, so she was the winner. Perhaps this explains Dasani’s first act of aggression. She grabbed Star’s apartment keys and dangled them provocatively. Star watched in disbelief as Dasani flung the keys to Star’s apartment at the sewer. This was a brazen act for any child, not to mention a homeless girl. When Star returned home, she told her mother about the new girl. “You know what to do,” Bonita said. “She hit you, you hit her back.”