Every weekend, I work as a barista at a local coffee shop downtown. I love this job dearly, where I get to make coffee and meet incredible people. Some customers can spend $6 on a latte. Meanwhile, others dip into our suspended fund. This suspended program consists of cash donations from members of the community to help the homeless or others who can’t afford a simple $2 cup of coffee.

One man I’ve come to know works “handyman jobs” while living on the street. I look forward to the pride on his face when some weeks he walks in and says, “guess who can pay for their coffee today!” Pure joy. I dread when he quietly says “a cup from the suspended fund please” and still tips me, of all people, the few cents in his pocket.

Friday, while scrolling through my social media, I saw that the Marshall Alpha Xi Delta sorority had a “Huntington Homeless” themed party. My heart sank. Girls dressed in American Eagle flannels and ripped skinny jeans with cardboard signs mocking people who aren’t as privileged to pay a fund to be a part of an organization. Mocking people who would give anything to have that extra cash lying around to buy even a simple cup of coffee.

I can just hear the wretched & tired arguments: “Homeless people need to work harder,” and “they’re all drug addicts.” My friend who works hard to buy his coffee does not deserve to be labeled. His financial state is not a reason for you to get Instagram likes. His life is precious and deserving of love and hope. The smile on his face when he hands over those $2 in change is incredibly bright. He feels normal and a part of something.

Some people can work hard their entire lives and not rise in social class. Life doesn’t favor everyone; if it did, we would all be rich. But how can anyone make progress if they’re constantly being told that they aren’t worth it?

I’m sure you work hard to pay for your membership; I’m not discrediting that. I’m discrediting the fact that you have the audacity to think that your lives are worth more than someone else’s. I’m sure all of those hours of required volunteering for a charity don’t reflect that. But I do think it’s time to grow up and open our eyes to the fact that privilege is real.

I hope that in your future you do not experience what the homeless do every day, because my dear friend at the coffee shop wouldn’t wish his life on any of you, no matter how mean you are. Keep your sisterhood, but be kind. There is a world of people who matter outside of it.