Closer Than We Think: Poverty, Privilege, and What Really Matters
A Personal reflection from Align’s Client Experience Director
Current 23 - Insights
Last Sunday, my journey began in Turkana, Kenya’s poorest county—a dry, harsh, expansive region that set the stage for the rest of our week. I was there to learn about World Vision’s Big Dream to End Child Marriage, an ambitious initiative addressing the tragic reality that over 100 million girls globally are at risk of becoming child brides. Many years ago, my philanthropic journey began with an anti-trafficking nonprofit, so this cause has always been close to my heart.
I was immediately struck by the sharp contrast in the options available to me versus the girls I encountered. My life has always been full of choices—I can decide who I marry, if I marry at all, and what my future might hold. But in Turkana, and in many other communities across Kenya, a girl's future—and her options—are often decided long before she takes her first breath.
In a classroom of four-year-olds, several girls wore thick bead necklaces. “Beading” symbolizes that a girl has been promised for marriage, sometimes arranged while still in the womb. Marriage there can happen at 10, 11, or 12, often immediately following a girl’s first period. In many communities, marriage is preceded by female genital mutilation (FGM), seen as a rite of passage into womanhood.
At the first school we visited—after a three-hour drive into the depths of Turkana—students who previously walked over 30 kilometers daily now sleep in threes on straw mats, the school having expanded capacity to board students in response to the distance and danger of their commute. The boys' dorm doubled as their classroom, mats cleared each morning for lessons. The Headteacher, deeply committed yet visibly burdened, broke down in tears discussing the struggle to provide enough food. One of the philanthropists traveling with me shared that in her 20 years of visiting Kenya, she'd never before witnessed a man cry.
I've long believed meeting basic needs—clean water, food, safety—must precede cultural shifts (Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs and all). But in Turkana, I was confronted with the fact that addressing poverty isn’t linear. It involves compassionately inviting communities into a new worldview, one in which girls are inherently valuable, worthy, and full of potential.
Until now, I hadn't fully grasped how disproportionately women and girls bear the burdens in these communities—from collecting water to building homes, to caring for children. Their daily lives leave little space to hope or dream.
I was moved by World Vision’s understanding of this complexity. As the largest provider of clean water globally, they meet immediate needs, significantly reducing burdens placed on girls. Yet, they also recognize the necessity of deeper cultural transformation through their “Empowered Worldview” program, which gently encourages communities to recognize the intrinsic value of every human life.
As we flew from Turkana south to Baringo County —after days of dancing, singing, crying, and hugging girls and women—I started to feel the gentle nudge of conviction. Turkana felt far away, yet it was confronting me directly, asking questions I rarely stop long enough to face in my fast-paced, self-focused life in New York.
On Thursday, we visited another village and Akoret Girls High School, transformed after more than five years of sustained work with World Vision. Believe me when I say this was in the middle of nowhere- the final leg of the journey was 20km of offroading that took us over an hour.
Here we met former FGM surgeons—one woman had performed 601 surgeries—who courageously laid down their knives, choosing instead to advocate for girls’ dignity, rights, and futures, even though they themselves never had access to education or choice. The school here overflowed with joyful, healthy girls, thriving and daring to dream bigger dreams.
When we asked these learners why they wanted to go to school, their responses were inspiring—many spoke of wanting to change society, create opportunities for other girls, or become self-sufficient leaders in their communities. Yet, when we asked how they had gained access to school, their answers exposed heartbreaking cracks in the system. Some girls had run away from home; others had walked for miles, desperately seeking the chance at education, safety, and freedom. Sitting in a room with this community- the hundreds of students, the parents who have bought into the importance of education, the faculty and the elders- gave me hope for a thriving, equitable, joyful Kenya.
Reflecting on these realities as I start my 25-hour journey home to Brooklyn, uncomfortable yet essential questions linger:
Where have I missed the plot in my own life? What am I valuing or prioritizing that seems insignificant when confronted with such poverty and injustice?
I often think about philanthropy alongside investment capital as a powerful tool for solving global problems (external)—but what role does generosity play in shaping my own heart (internal)? How does giving to those who can give nothing in return change my priorities, my worldview, my very soul?
Living in cities obsessed with ambition, body image, wellness, and even self-optimization, how much time do I spend worrying about myself when girls still exist who will never enter a classroom, girls whose childhoods abruptly end at age 12 with forced marriage?
These communities feel far away—and they are—but perhaps I'm most human when I allow their experiences to feel closer. In the whirlwind of building my world, my career, my wealth, my community, I’d forgotten something crucial.
There’s a lot that has changed about my relationship to faith as I’ve continued to evolve as a person, but there are core tenets of the faith I grew up with that have driven my work in both impact and philanthropic spaces. I was reminded of that this week. One in particular is a verse in Isaiah 58 which promises healing not through self-care or ambition, but through justice, generosity, and serving others:
“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear.”
Perhaps true healing—true wholeness—isn't found in doing more for ourselves, but in choosing to do more for others.
Ultimately, what good is our wellness, ambition, or wealth if it doesn’t move us toward deeper compassion, justice, and genuine human connection?
More reflections to come, but I wanted to share these raw thoughts during my journey home.
DISCLOSURE: The information presented in this post is the opinion of author and does not reflect the view of any other person or entity. The information provided is believed to be from reliable sources, but no liability is accepted for any inaccuracies. This post is provided for informational purposes only and should not be construed as an investment recommendation. Past performance is no guarantee of future performance. Align Impact is an investment adviser registered with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. Registration as an investment adviser does not constitute an endorsement by the SEC, nor does it imply any level of skill or training.
