Monday, April 13, 2026

Righteousness, Hard Work, and the Lie We Were Told

 Righteousness, Hard Work, and the Lie We Were Told

There’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

Righteousness.

That quiet belief that if you work hard, do the right thing, push through the hard times… things will eventually work out.

I used to believe that.


I remember being a kid, after my dad passed. We were poor.

Not the kind of poor people romanticize. The kind where you feel it in your stomach, in your clothes, in the way the world looks at you.

So I worked hard.

Always.

Job after job, pushing myself, trying to get ahead. I went through tough work, physical work, exhausting work. I got injured. I took out a student loan, believing that would be the turning point.

And eventually, I did get a “good job.”

But it came with ridiculous hours.

The kind of hours where your body starts breaking down, but you keep going because you have to. Because you have debt. Because you’ve been taught that stopping means failing.

I worked like that just to try to pay off that student loan.


I remember something else too.

I had a friend once. His dad was rich.

We saw someone homeless, and he said, “That’s their choice.”

Even back then, something didn’t sit right with me. But I still carried that idea of righteousness—that people who worked hard would be okay.

That bad things happened for a reason.

That somehow, people ended up where they deserved.


Then I got older.

And life started showing me something different.


I was downsized just before I turned forty.

Just like that.

All that hard work didn’t protect me.


Later, after I had my child, things got even harder.

No one wanted to hire me part-time.

Must work Full-time, or Split shifts. The worst hours.

I watched management take the best schedules, the stability, the benefits—while the rest of us scrambled and stretched ourselves thin just trying to survive.

At one job, they worked us to the bone.

The bosses got married, went on a honeymoon, bought a house.

I asked for a raise after a year.

Instead, they handed me a disciplinary letter and told me to sign it.

I refused.

I quit.

And just like that—I couldn’t get EI.


There were other things too.

Things that felt wrong.

Inappropriate behavior. Power imbalance. Fear.

I was told things like they could read what I wrote. I felt watched. I didn’t feel safe.

And when you’re already hanging on by a thread, that kind of pressure doesn’t just stress you out—it changes your life.


By then, I was in my 50s.

My child was a teenager, confused, watching everything unfold.

I lost my job.

And with that comes something people don’t talk about enough:

The stigma.

The judgment.

The way people look at you like you must have done something wrong.


But here’s the truth I’ve come to understand:

You can work your whole life…

Do everything “right”…

And still end up pushed to the edge.


Right now, I’m in a precarious housing situation.

I work hard every day—cleaning, caring for a home, doing what I can.

I’m working off $1500.

There’s no contract.

The person I’m living with pays me nothing, as get free room and board..so there's imbalance 

And me?

I’m one step away from the street.

I’ve been unhoused for six years.


So when I hear people talk about “righteousness”…

About how people just need to work harder…

About how those who struggle must have made bad choices…

I think back to my life.

And I know:

That story is not true.


We are not failing because we didn’t work hard enough.

We are not struggling because we didn’t try.

We are living in a system where hard work is no longer a guarantee of stability.

Where loyalty is not rewarded.

Where age becomes a liability.

Where speaking up can cost you everything.


And the hardest part?

Young people are walking straight into this.

Being told the same story.

Work hard. Stay positive. Push through.

While the ground beneath them is already unstable.


This isn’t about giving up.

It’s about telling the truth.


Because until we stop blaming individuals…

And start questioning the systems that put people in these positions…

Nothing will change.


Reflective Questions:

  1. What does “working hard” actually guarantee today?
  2. Have we confused survival with success?
  3. Why do we assume people who struggle made poor choices?
  4. What role does luck play in stability?
  5. How does age affect opportunity in today’s workforce?
  6. What happens to people who speak up at work?
  7. Why is unpaid labour becoming normalized?
  8. How does housing instability affect mental health?
  9. What are young people being told—and is it still true?
  10. If hard work isn’t enough, what needs to change?

This is one story.

But I know it’s not just mine.

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