This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Stacey Little, founder of Southern Bite. It has been edited for length and clarity.
To say I grew up poor would be an understatement. I lived in a trailer with my mom and dad and only wore clothes from Walmart. Boxed Mac ‘n cheese was a typical dinner, but my mom would make it fancy by adding some pepper.
She was good at infusing fun and excitement into our reality. I loved trekking with her to a nearby gas station. To me, it was an adventure, but in truth, we were going to use the payphone because we had no phone at home.
I was relentlessly bullied at school. One time, in a desperate attempt to help me fit in, my mom opened a credit card to buy me a pair of Levis. I’d never had brand-new jeans. It was such a formative moment because it showed me that it was OK to strive for better things.
I declared bankruptcy after acquiring credit card debt
Our poverty was generational. My grandparents had been in a similar situation. Yet, I knew I wanted something different.
I worked my rear off to go to college. I left with a lot of student debt but a good job working at a nonprofit. I married my high school sweetheart, Heather, and bought a house and cars. I finally felt I had financial security. Then, I lost my job.
I didn’t want to move back in with my parents, so I used credit cards to make ends meet. The situation became worse until our son, Jack, was born in 2008. On the day of his birth, I went to the attorney and declared bankruptcy.
I started a food blog that grew quickly
We surrendered our cars and borrowed money from our parents and grandparents to buy beaters that could get us where we needed to go. We were able to keep our house and mortgage, and we had to keep our student loans, too.
Looking at Jack, I knew I wanted him to have it better than I did. I didn’t have my mom’s gift for making even a tough situation seem fun, so I’d have to make sure his life wasn’t as hard.
Around that time, I started a food blog, Southern Bite. It started with restaurant reviews and grew into sharing recipes. I was working all day at a new nonprofit job and working nights and weekends on the blog as it continued to grow. Soon, an editor approached me about writing a cookbook, which in turn led to more of an audience on the blog. It was exciting, but managing my day job and my business was becoming a lot.
I have financial security I never imagined
I was praying for a sign that it was time to quit my job, and it came in a big way: half the staff was laid off with no warning. When I told Heather, she cried, but I felt at peace. I doubled down on the blog and never made less than I’d made at my “real” job.
Today, Southern Bite is a seven-figure business. I’ve built a home complete with a custom test kitchen, office, and studio. I’m not quite a millionaire personally, but I’m close. My family has financial security I could never have imagined. Not long ago, the idea of walking through a grocery store and not checking prices was unfathomable to me. Now, I can take my family on vacation, something I never experienced as a child.
I want my son to understand his privilege
My son Jack, who’s 16 now, is living a life that’s so different from mine. I talk with him about money frequently and try to instill perspective and respect. I want him to know most people don’t live like this.
Jack’s favorite hobby is golf, a sport I never could afford as a teen. When I was in 6th grade, I wanted so badly to go on a field trip to Washington, D.C. It was a rite of passage in our district, but my parents just couldn’t afford it, so I didn’t go. These days, I can write a check to sponsor Jack’s golf tournaments. I’ve also helped my mom buy a house.
I’m grateful for the financial security my job provides. I also feel like I’m making the world a better place — the same urge that has pushed me toward nonprofits. Sitting down for dinner with loved ones is so important — and it’s non-negotiable in my home, every single night.
Food is a conduit through which we can connect with others, and that’s worth more than anything.
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