I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen the same tired comments pop up online or overheard them whispered in grocery store lines. Someone mentions being on EBT or needing help feeding their kids, and immediately, someone else jumps in with, “But they’ve got their nails done.” or “But they wear makeup.”
It’s almost predictable now. The moment someone dares to speak openly about needing help, people start looking for proof that they don’t deserve it. It’s as if a $1.25 set of press-ons or a $3 lipstick somehow cancels out the right to feed your family. As if looking “put together” means you must not really be struggling behind closed doors. And every time I hear those comments, something inside me aches. Because I’ve been there — maybe not in that exact situation, but close enough to know what it feels like to be judged for how you look while you’re just trying to survive.
There’s this strange rule society has created, this idea that if you’re struggling, you’re supposed to look like it. If you’re having a hard time, you’d better have messy hair, chipped nails, and an expression of defeat. Heaven forbid you smile or try to find one small piece of comfort. People love a story of struggle — as long as it looks the part.
But survival doesn’t always wear tired eyes and torn clothes. Sometimes it looks like a mom sitting at her kitchen table, quietly painting her nails after her kids are asleep, because it’s the one thing that makes her feel like herself again. Sometimes it’s someone putting on lipstick before a job interview, not because they’re trying to impress anyone, but because they’re trying to remind themselves that they still matter.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say things like, “If she can afford her nails, she can afford food.”And I just shake my head. Because those nails might be from Dollar Tree. That makeup might have been bought years before the hard times came. That little bit of color on someone’s face might be the only thing that helps them look in the mirror and see a person, not just a paycheck that doesn’t stretch far enough.
In my life when everything feels tight — money, patience, energy, hope. I remember sitting at my kitchen table surrounded by bills, feeling completely overwhelmed. There wasn’t much I could fix that night. But I painted my nails. It sounds small, almost silly, but in that moment, it gave me peace. For a few minutes, I didn’t feel broken. I felt like me again. And that’s the part people forget. Those little things — the things outsiders love to judge — can be lifelines. When everything feels out of control, something as simple as painted nails or clean hair can feel like taking a stand. A reminder that you are still here. Still human.
People also forget that it’s expensive to be poor. You can’t just start over when life changes. You wear what you have, use what’s already in your drawers, and stretch every dollar until it screams. A pair of shoes, a nice shirt, or a tube of mascara doesn’t mean someone’s not struggling. It might mean they’re holding onto whatever small piece of normalcy they have left.
It breaks my heart that we’ve built a world where people have to defend their right to feel beautiful or whole just because they’re struggling financially. The same folks who preach “self-care” will turn around and shame someone for practicing it in the cheapest, most humble way they can. But self-care doesn’t belong to the wealthy. It belongs to anyone doing their best to make it through the day. It belongs to the single mom using press-ons from Dollar Tree, the dad who irons his only nice shirt to go to work, the person painting their nails as a small act of defiance against despair.
Dignity doesn’t expire when money runs out. Needing help doesn’t make you less deserving of beauty, respect, or moments of grace. You don’t have to prove your pain to earn compassion. You don’t have to strip yourself of every small joy just to make your struggle believable. If doing your nails helps you remember who you are, do them. If putting on lipstick gives you the strength to face another day, wear it proudly. These little things don’t erase hardship — they help people survive it.
You never really know what someone is carrying. The woman in front of you at the store using her EBT card cried herself to sleep last night. The man with the clean shoes might be skipping meals so his kids can eat. The teenager with the new Kate Spade purse, might have bought them with money saved from skipping lunches at school, at the Goodwill.
Everyone is fighting something. And sometimes, that fight looks like a person buying a cake at the Walmart Deli so her kids have a birthday party, or a burger at Burger King the takes your EBT, because it is a play date, or the mom with her six children enjoy the zoo, that gives people on EBT a membership for $47.00 for the year. Because even on the EBT, these people are human and most have children that need to experience what all children should experience. So the next time you catch yourself judging someone for having their nails done or wearing makeup while on assistance, or buying soda, candy and chips, on their EBT card, I hope you pause. I hope you remember that struggle doesn’t have a dress code.
Because you don’t get to measure someone’s worth — or their hardship — by your judgmental views when you haven't walked that long road that the person in front of you at the grocery store, or on social media doing all the things with their family, or the women with a designer bag that she bought at a thrift shop, on her dollar tree nails.
Sometimes, those small things are the only thing holding them together.
When I write pieces like this, it’s because I’ve seen how cruel assumptions can be. I’ve felt the sting of people who look at the surface and think they know the story. I’ve lived through moments where I had to choose between what I needed and what helped me feel like myself — and sometimes, I chose the thing that kept my spirit alive.
I write for the ones who’ve been side-eyed at the grocery store, who’ve heard whispers about their nails or clothes, and who’ve felt small because of it. I write because I believe everyone deserves the right to feel human, no matter their bank account, background, or circumstance.
This isn’t just about makeup or manicures, designer jeans and purses, or trips to the zoo on social media posts — it’s about dignity, empathy, and understanding that survival takes many shapes. Sometimes it looks like holding it together, even if all you have left to hold is a tiny bottle of nail polish and the will to keep going.
So to anyone who has ever been judged for trying to feel a little normal in the middle of chaos — keep your head high. You are doing what you need to do to survive. And that’s something to be proud of. I'm proud of you!
