I used to think being poor was about how much money you had—or didn’t have. Growing up in Havana, Cuba, frugality was survival. When I moved to America at 21, that didn’t change right away. At 25, I had more money than ever, but I was still hunting for $7 pants at Goodwill and a $10 backpack at Ross. I’d brag about it, too—like it was some badge of honor. Then I realized: I wasn’t poor anymore, but I was still acting poor. Feeling poor. It wasn’t my wallet holding me back—it was my mind.