Growing up in my hometown of Caracas, I wanted nothing more than to be seen as a sifrina. To be, in Venezuelan slang, counted among the rich kids—a spoiled, fashionable city girl with money to waste and expensive American tastes.

But commuting for hours from my single mother’s modest apartment on the outskirts of the city to the upscale neighborhood of my private school, I often felt inadequate.

We came from a decidedly middle-class family. We had access to food, health care, and subsidized housing. We enjoyed road trips to …

By Ruxandra Guidi | November 20, 2015

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