BY ROGER SMITH
MOUNTAIN CITIZEN
INEZ — Local author and speaker Joseph Little remembers what it felt like to have nothing. He knows the absence of material things and the kind of emptiness that comes from being abandoned, unheard and unseen. Raised in a cycle of generational poverty, Little’s early life was shaped by instability, neglect and periods of homelessness that began in childhood.
Now in his 40s, with four brothers instead of five after one died from a drug overdose, he is using his past to illuminate the path forward for others. His self-published book, “Me and Poverty: A Journey of Inspiration and Escape,” will launch this Saturday in the lobby of Movies on Main at the Collier Center. He recently shared the story behind his book with the Martin County Kiwanis Club during a luncheon at Giovanni’s in Inez.
“My grandparents raised me here in Martin County,” Little said. “They took us in. They lived at Meathouse at the time.”
Little was 4 years old—the same age his son is now—when his parents walked away from him and his five brothers. As a father, he often looks at his child and wonders how anyone could leave.
“I mean, he’s a lot; he’s 4—and 4-year-olds are a lot. But I look at him and I’m like, ‘No way,’ because I know how much he needs his dad.”
Both of Little’s parents struggled with addiction.
“My mom struggles even to this day with mental illness,” he said. “In a moment of what I call ‘clarity,’ she dropped us off.”
At the time, child protective services were closing in. His mother, raising six boys in filth and neglect, told his grandmother she needed the children out of the house so she could clean. She would drop them off and return the next day. But that day came and went. A few more passed before she called.
“She eventually said she just wasn’t fit to be our mother and wanted her mom—my mamaw—to take care of us,” Little said. “And she did.”
Little’s mother had his older brother at 16, and another child two years later.
“That’s when she began coming home with needle marks in her arms,” he said. “She’s a kind soul, but she struggled a lot with her mental illness and using different drugs.”
He mentioned his grandmother, who still lives on Saltwell Road in Inez. He then opened his book, a raw and redemptive account of surviving poverty, trauma and abandonment, reading from a chapter titled “Personal Desert.”
“Then, there were the grade school field trips,” he read. “For most kids, these trips were a reward, a break from the monotony of schoolwork… For me, they were something else entirely. The moment a trip was announced, the dread set in. The ticket to a movie was only six dollars—but it might as well have been six thousand.”
Programs existed to help, of course. Schools sometimes covered the cost for students who could not afford it. But Little, like so many children in poverty, understood the unspoken price of that help: the exposure.
“Who wants to be singled out and pitied?” he continued. “What kid wants to do that? Not me.”
So instead, he would ask at home.
The passage recounts one such request to his grandfather, a man worn thin by years of hardship. Little rehearsed his words carefully, couching them in casual optimism. He mentioned his good grades, hinted that the school might chip in, tried not to sound too hopeful.
His grandfather’s response: silence. Then a long drag from a cigarette.
“That’ll be pretty expensive for them to take all you kids to the movies,” he finally said.
Little pressed on: “They’ve agreed to cover part of the cost, but we still have to pay just $6.”
Then came the dismissal: “That’s not much of a reward if you have to pay. I guess you’ll be staying at school that day.”
Little’s heart sank, but he tried again.
“Are you sure you can’t come up with the money for me to go?”
His grandfather’s tone turned sharp.
“Yeah. If you kids would quit taking so many showers and eating so much, maybe I could,” he said, before launching into a list of utility bills—the cost of water, electricity and wear on appliances.
Then came the phrase Little said ruled their household: “Ain’t no need for you to be going anywhere anyhow.”
In that moment, the fight was about something much deeper than $6.
“At some point,” Little wrote, “the struggle had taken over everything—every thought, every action.”
Pushing further would only bring yelling and cursing. His grandmother would try to defend him, which would only escalate things. So he would retreat to his room, lie in bed and stare at the ceiling with tears in his eyes.
“What was the point of doing well in school?” he asked. “What was the reward for trying?”
And yet, some nights, something changed.
“Sometimes, just sometimes, when I got up in the middle of the night for a drink of water, I’d find six dollars’ worth of coins laid out on the kitchen counter,” he read.
His grandmother had waited until the house was quiet, quietly scrounged together what she could, and left the money for him to find—a quiet rebellion, an act of love.
“She believed in me,” Little said. “Even if the world didn’t.”
He said the passage captures the kind of woman his grandmother still is. “She’s very special to me—the only mom I’ve ever had.”
Today, as an author, a speaker and the host of the “Me and Poverty” podcast, Little is a voice for those still trying to escape the shadows he once knew all too well. He is excited for the book’s launch and brought copies for early purchase by Kiwanis members, signing them with the message “Be the Someone,” the title of another chapter he read.
That chapter is a stirring call to those who have overcome adversity—teachers, coaches, pastors, entrepreneurs, and others who have found stability—to remember where they came from and to reach back. He urges readers to reflect on the people who helped them along the way: a teacher who saw potential, a coach who refused to let them quit, a pastor who listened, or a mentor who believed in them before they believed in themselves. Their small but mighty acts, he says, often change lives.
Yet as people move forward, it is easy to forget the fear and uncertainty that defined the early stages of their journey. Little challenges those in positions of influence to remember—and to act. He urges them to reject the low expectations society places on people in poverty and to defy the limits others have normalized.
He insists that impact does not have to be dramatic. A simple conversation, a word of encouragement, or a quiet expression of belief can shift a young person’s entire perspective. He offers a metaphor: those who have “made it” now have access to the fountain, but many kids are still too small to reach the water. All they need is someone willing to offer a cup. That cup, he says, could change everything.
Little speaks from experience. He compares himself to a diamond buried beneath the weight of circumstances he did not create—someone who only needed another person to take the time to polish what was already there.
Potential, he writes, is like oil buried deep in the ground. It takes patience to dig and effort to extract. But the reward—when someone chooses to nurture that hidden potential—is immeasurable. The best coaches do not just spot talent; they develop it. Great teachers inspire resilience. Pastors led by love do not just preach; they invest. True mentors see possibility, not imperfection. The world, Little argues, does not need more bystanders. It needs more people willing to believe in others before they believe in themselves.
The chapter closes with a direct appeal: invest in the life of a young person who may never be able to repay you. Notice the quiet kid in the back of the classroom. Encourage the teenager who seems ready to give up. Guide the young adult who has ambition but no direction. Be the person who shows up—because, as Little reminds us, sometimes all it takes is one person to change the course of a life forever.
Little’s memoir recounts his journey from hardship to transformation.
“I knew education was going to change my life,” he said. “It was my way out, so I was not going to miss school.”
Faith in God, he says, was his foundation.
On social media, Little often signs off with phrases like “opportunities over barriers.” He urges podcast listeners to believe they are worthy of more than just survival.
Nine years ago, he and his wife, Daisha, established a scholarship for Martin County students. Going forward, a portion of every book he sells will go toward that fund.
“We’re getting to invest in them,” he said.
Little’s upcoming tour will take him to libraries, schools and community centers throughout Appalachia, where poverty remains a persistent challenge. At each stop, he hopes to do more.
“I’ve escaped the poverty,” he said. “Now it’s about reaching back into the fire and seeing who else I can pull out.”
The launch event will begin at 10 a.m. and run until 1 p.m. Light refreshments will be provided.
Online orders for “Me and Poverty” will open Saturday at joelittleinspires.com.