In Jackson, Miss., Latisha juggles full-time work, parenting and rising costs—while a guaranteed income program gives her the breathing room to plan for the future.
Front & Center is a groundbreaking series amplifying the voices of Black women navigating poverty—highlighting their struggles, resilience and dreams as they care for their families, build careers and challenge systems not built for their success. Now in its fourth year, Front & Center is a collaboration between Ms. and Springboard to Opportunities, a nonprofit based in Jackson, Miss., working alongside residents of federally subsidized housing as they pursue their goals. The first-person accounts in this series are available for reprint. Find additional guidelines at the end of this story.
My name is Latisha. I’m 32 years old, and I live in a subsidized housing complex in Jackson, Mississippi, with my three kids—my boys are 13 and 9, and my youngest is my 6-year-old daughter.
Right now, I’m a shift supervisor at Wendy’s. I’ve been there for a while, and I’ve moved up into management. I actually enjoy my job—I’m a people person, and I like the team we have. My co-workers feel like family, and my customers know me; some come in almost every day. But as much as I like it, the paycheck only stretches so far. Rent, the light bill, food for growing kids—by the time I cover the basics, the money is gone.
If I could do anything, I’d be a nurse. I’m a people person and I think that would make me good at it; I would talk with patients, comfort them. I already care for my own family when they’re sick—being a mom means you have to be a nurse sometimes, too.
Most months I have to play a balancing game: Pay the rent in two installments to avoid falling too far behind, then catch up on the light bill next check, all while making sure there’s food at home. Late fees are an unfortunate part of it—a dollar a day if I’m short on the rent—and I’ve learned how to negotiate with what’s due when.
I work eight- to 10-hour shifts most days, then come home to my other job of parenting. Cooking, cleaning, football practice—it’s nonstop. My oldest helps by watching his brother and sister when I’m at work, but he’s a teenager and wants his own time, too. Sometimes my daughter comes to work with me and sits with her tablet. My parents pitch in when they can, and I’m grateful for that.
For a while, I was receiving SNAP benefits, but my card kept getting stolen. (Editor’s note: Scammers routinely steal SNAP cards through card skimming and cloning.) It’s happened to me three times, most recently right before my son’s birthday this May. I was lucky I could still make his day special—we went to the safari park, got him a cake and ice cream—but it’s exhausting to file fraud claims and reapply over and over. Sometimes they’ll reimburse you, but usually you’re just out of luck, and there’s no warning before your benefits get cut off. With everything else going on, I can’t keep changing my PIN every month. At some point, it felt like a waste of time to keep chasing benefits I might lose again.
I get some help from a summer food program, which puts meat and sides in my kitchen, and I stretch it with family packs from local grocery stores. Fridays are our treat day—the kids can pick fast food—but most nights I cook and we eat together at the table. In the summer, when they’re home more, I keep cheaper staples on hand like noodles, nuggets, cereal and sandwich fixings to make things last.
If I could tell Mississippi lawmakers one thing about summer hunger, it’s that food needs to reach the kids who can’t get to school meal programs because their parents are at work. Delivering boxes of groceries to those families would be a real help.
Affordable childcare is another big barrier. Right now there aren’t even openings for state childcare vouchers, and when there are, the hoops to qualify—proving hours, going to DHS in person—keep a lot of working parents from getting help they really need. If there were after-school programs to pick up kids and keep them until working parents get off, that would make a huge difference. As it is, we just patch things together with family and friends. My oldest will help out watching his brother and sister, but he’s getting into his teenage years and he wants to go out and do things, which I understand. Sometimes my daughter will come with me to work, which also isn’t ideal but if it’s unavoidable I’ll set her up with a tablet there.
This year, I’m part of the Magnolia Mother’s Trust, receiving $1,000 a month in guaranteed income. That money has been life-changing. It’s another steady paycheck I can count on, which lets me cover something big with one check and know I’ll still have income the next. I’ve even been able to save. And I’m able to say “yes” to more things for my kids — trips out of town, a day at the water park, time together making memories.
Affordable childcare is another big barrier. Right now there aren’t even openings for state childcare vouchers, and when there are, the hoops to qualify … keep a lot of working parents from getting help they really need.
My big goal is to buy a house. I want my own space, where I can set my own rules, have a pet if I want, and not worry about noisy neighbors or a landlord’s restrictions. And honestly, if rent keeps going up the way it is—$1,000 or more for a place—you might as well be paying a mortgage. At least then you’re investing in something that’s yours.
Some politicians say programs like Magnolia Mother’s Trust make people lazy or discourage them from working. I’m proof that’s not true. I work full time, I’m raising three kids, and I still get up every day to earn a paycheck. The extra income doesn’t make me want to quit—it gives me breathing room to save and plan for a future. These funds aren’t forever, so you have to stay employed and be smart about how you use them.
If I could tell Congress one thing, it would be this: Don’t cut benefits like SNAP or childcare. Make them stronger, because they fill the gap for working families. In jobs like mine—essential jobs serving food and keeping businesses going—the paychecks often aren’t enough to cover the most basic needs of childcare, food and rent. These programs are a safety net when hours get cut or expenses spike.
These days, I’m finding joy at home. The money from the Trust has allowed me to scale back my hours a little, which means I can rest and be more present with my kids. Having that time and energy back makes a difference in how I show up for them—and for myself.
My life is busy and complicated, but it’s moving toward something better. I’m working, I’m saving, I’m traveling with my kids and I’m building toward a home of our own. That’s what keeps me going.
