Turning privilege into purpose: a reflection on inequality and hope for the new year
PositiveMinds | Positive Stories | Edition 060
Design created using Canva on 31 Dec 2024, by Adama Coulibaly.
Today is 31 December, the last day of the year. For me, it is a time of reflection and planning. It's a time to take stock of the past year, set goals and make resolutions for the next. It's a day of possibilities.
For Aamira, a 25-year-old Sudanese mother of three, 31 December is just another day in survival mode. There's no pause for thought, no space to dream or make resolutions. It's a day of fetching water, queuing for food rations and trying to keep her children safe in a refugee camp in Chad. It's a day like any other, filled with uncertainty and struggle.
Our morning routines reflect two very different realities.
This morning, like every morning, I woke up in an apartment that shelters me, protects me and is my home. I took a hot shower with clean, safe water flowing freely. Then, I performed Fajr, the first prayer of the day. In the quiet of my living room, I felt a moment of peace and gratitude, a connection to my faith and a grounding reminder of the blessings in my life. I ate my fill at breakfast and didn't worry about running out of food; I have enough for several days.
This morning, like me, Aamira got up early to pray Fajr. But her prayer was followed by the sound of her children fidgeting in a tarpaulin shelter that barely protected them from the elements. Her three children slept beside her on a thin mat. There was no water for a shower, just a bucket she had fetched the day before after queuing for at least an hour. For Aamira, breakfast consisted of sharing a small portion of food between her children, often skipping her meal.
Aamira's tragedy is rooted in conflict.
Aamira's life changed forever in April 2023 when a deadly civil war broke out in Sudan. Her village was attacked, and in the chaos, her husband was killed. Left to care for her three children, Aamira fled to neighbouring Chad with nothing but the clothes on her back. It was a harrowing journey, marked by hunger and thirst, fear and the constant threat of violence.
Today, in a refugee camp, Aamira is trying to rebuild a life for her family. Her 'home' is a barely weatherproof tarpaulin shelter. Every day is a struggle for water, food and basic security for her children.
Knowledge and opportunity are widening the gap between Aamira and me.
As I enjoyed my breakfast, I perused The Economist Word in Brief, Jeune Afrique Matinale, and Harvard Business Review Management Tip of the Day. With just a few clicks, I was connected to a wealth of information and analysis on the state of the world.
While I have access to unlimited knowledge, Aamira sits quietly, contemplating the challenges ahead. She cannot read or write, and information from around the world is inaccessible to her. Education is an unfulfilled dream, making it almost impossible for Aamira to escape poverty or hope for a better future for her children.
Financial stability changes lives; its absence locks them in.
Later, I checked my bank account. It was a simple routine click that gave me a sense of stability. I have savings to fall back on, a cushion that allows me to plan for the future with peace of mind.
While I'm planning my financial goals, Aamira is facing a harsher reality. She has no bank account and no savings. Her 'security' comes from the hope that food rations won't run out, that her children will have something to eat, and that humanitarian aid will arrive in time to keep them alive.
Inequality connects these struggles and compounds them.
The differences between my life and Aamira's are not just a matter of luck or geography; they are rooted in inequality. Inequality determines who has access to resources, education, health, clean water and opportunities and who is left behind. It determines who enjoys security and stability and struggles daily to survive.
While I sleep peacefully under a roof, Aamira is one of 122.6 million people—around 1.5% of the world's population—forcibly displaced from their homes by conflict, disaster or instability.
While I benefit from clean water on demand, 2.2 billion people—400 million Africans, including Aamira—lack safely managed drinking water services, including 703 million without a basic water service. For Aamira, every drop is a hard-won victory, often after hours of queuing in the sun.
While my cupboard is full of food, Aamira is one of 757 million people worldwide—9.6% of the global population—who live every day in uncertainty about their next meal. She often sacrifices her share so that her children can eat.
While I read effortlessly and access a world of information at my fingertips, 771 million adults worldwide—nearly 10% of the global population—cannot read or write. Among them, two-thirds are women, including Aamira, whose illiteracy locks her out of opportunities and keeps her trapped in the cycle of poverty.
While I have the comfort of savings, Aamira lives in extreme poverty, like 35% of Sub-Saharan Africans—more than 383 million people—who live on less than $2.15 per day, the international threshold for extreme poverty.
Intersectionality exacerbates Aamira's vulnerability.
Aamira's situation is not only shaped by inequality, it is exacerbated by her identity. She is a black woman, a refugee, a widow and a single mother of three. Each of these identities compounds her vulnerability, pushing her further to the margins of society.
As a refugee, Aamira has been deprived of her home, her stability and her security. As a woman, she faces the additional burden of gender inequality, often being overlooked or underestimated in decision-making processes. And as a widow and single mother, she has to bear the full burden of caring for her three children without any support.
Aamira's story is a stark reminder that inequality is not one-dimensional. It cuts across race, gender, sexual orientation, class and status, creating layers of disadvantage that make escaping poverty almost impossible.
Aamira's name holds hope for change.
In Arabic, Aamira means 'full of life, abundant, and prosperous'. It's a name full of hope, a dream for a future that today seems far away. But that future doesn't have to remain out of reach.
Aamira's name reminds us that abundance and prosperity can—and should—be accessible to everyone. The world produces enough food to feed everyone, generates enough wealth to provide security for all, and has the resources to meet every human's basic needs. Yet, inequality in the distribution of wealth, power, and privilege creates artificial scarcity for millions like Aamira. As the economist Amartya Sen once said, "Scarcity is not the result of lack; it is the result of unequal access." With the right actions, we can ensure that abundance is shared, not hoarded and that Aamira's name becomes her reality—a life full of opportunity, dignity, and hope.
“Scarcity is not the result of lack; it is the result of unequal access.”
There is hope—if we act boldly.
The recent G20 decision to tax the super-rich is a welcome step forward in the fight against inequality. Leaders agreed that the very rich should pay their fair share. A minimum 2% tax on the wealthiest 3,000 people could raise up to $250 billion annually, funding education, healthcare and essential services for millions like Aamira.
But words need to be followed by action. Governments, especially the G20, must close tax loopholes, end illicit financial flows and resource plunder, and ensure that the richest pay their fair share.
This New Year calls for resolutions that go beyond ourselves.
Kindness matters: it sustains life and restores dignity. A donated blanket can keep someone warm, and sharing food can bring joy to a family's table. But kindness is not enough to challenge the systems perpetuating inequality and poverty. Justice requires more.
Justice means rebalancing the scales by demanding fair taxation, greater social investment in public goods and amplifying the voices of the most marginalised. It means fighting for a world where the children of Aamira can dream of a better future.
What will your resolution be this year?
Kindness is a start, but justice is the goal. Let 2025 be the year we move from compassion to action, from individual to collective, and from inequality to equality. We can create a more just and equitable world where every life counts.
