I got pregnant at 15, so I got used to people’s judgment

At 15, pregnant and judged, I received a $20 bill from an elderly woman for diapers, with a note saying, “You’re stronger than you think.” Later, I found my name faintly written on it, despite never meeting her. When I told my mom, she revealed the woman was a neighbor she’d once helped. Years earlier, on a chilly night flight to New York, I was 16, underdressed in shorts and a T-shirt, shivering without a blanket. A kind foreign tourist, an older woman seated next to me, draped her hand-knitted shawl over me as I slept.

She noticed me shaking and, in broken English, told me to sleep. I woke up warm, thanked her profusely, and felt her kindness deeply. These small acts from strangers—a note, a shawl—carried profound care, shaping my perspective on compassion and connection.