I grew up in an affluent area. Most kids owned multiple Cabbage Patch dolls and Gear bags and pairs of Jordache jeans (not to mention the beloved Atari 2600). I certainly had enough, but it felt like all of my peers possessed more. I wanted Benetton sweaters and a cool bike. I wanted to take trips to Mexico over Christmas break and come back with a bronze tan. I wanted to impress people with a fancy car, not the red Datsun 510 parked in our driveway.

As I got older, I didn’t merely crave material items—I wanted freedom. On weekends, my friends’ parents left them alone in their apartments while they went elsewhere. I was never left unattended until I went to college. My friends had no curfew. I had to be home by midnight. Plus, my mom watched me like a hawk.

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