After spending 7 years living in Portland, I grew quite accustomed to seeing homeless people on the street all the time. According to HUD’s 2008 Annual Homeless Assessment Report to Congress Oregon led the nation with the highest homeless population so it is no wonder that I was seeing them everywhere. In Oregon I primarily saw young people, and there was one that I will never forget. Every 9 months or so she would be pregnant with a sign reading "Homeless and Pregnant" standing on a busy street getting money from people who felt bad for her. I judged them and her, and grew to be a bit hardened.
When my grandmother came to visit me, I hated that the homeless youth were asking her for money. And when one of my best friends, who could be one of the nicest people ever would give the homeless money, I would give her a hard time.
Now don't go thinking I was a super callous chica, I bought meal tickets and tried to give them out, but was refused multiple times.
I had a mind shift this spring when I read this article in UU World magazine. It is written by a minister, Victoria Weinstein who states that she never passes up an opportunity to interact with another human being. Going so far as to carry a stack of ones in her car for people standing on the side of the road. Now I don't know about you, but in the past I would roll up my windows and try to look real busy while hoping the light would change stat.
Ms. Weinstein chooses to interact specifically with the homeless and states "I find, perhaps not surprisingly, that people on the street are far more honest, open, and attentive than their ostensibly more together and successful counterparts, whose attention you might sustain for a few minutes between phone calls and texts and important obligations. My practice of responding to everyone with equal attention is about trying to live more fully into religious commitments around justice, equity, and compassion. But I also do it because I’m lonely and I want to see what can happen, how I can be brought into human relationship by making myself available to it wherever that might occur."
After reading this article it resonated with me, and who I want to be. I want to be the person who respects the inherent worth and dignity of every person, homeless or not. And I echoed her feelings of loneliness in this busy chaotic world. So I began purposely trying to carry one dollar bills, and while I will not be taking any homeless to lunch any time soon, I try to give them out whenever I see a homeless person.
I have to let those of you that were like me in the past in on a little secret.
It feels damn good.
There is something about connecting with and acknowledging a person that most of society doesn't acknowledge. Try it, you just might like it.
Some of you out there may be saying "But they are all drug addicts/losers/so different than me." But are they that different? They are mothers, and brothers, and sons, and daughters, and really who the hell are we to judge them.
They all have a past, from veterans, to being laid off, their stories may surprise you. According to this article in the LA Times, women veterans are among the rapidly rising homeless population. Homelessness among female veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars has increased every year for the last six years from 150 in 2006 to 1,700 this year according to the Department of Veterans Affairs.
Point being, they all have a story, and it is up to us to judge or not to judge, but I feel we all have a responsibility towards each other. We should take care of each other, because we are all we have.
As congresswoman Janice Schakowsky (D-IL) states "There is a lot that happens around the world we cannot control. We cannot stop earthquakes, we cannot prevent droughts, and we cannot prevent all conflict, but when we know where the hungry, the homeless and the sick exist, then we can help."
My challenge to you, whomever has happened upon this blog, this holiday season is thus:
Reach out and make a connection with a homeless person, if only for a moment. If only for dropping 25 cents in their cup, but still looking them in the eyes and acknowledging their humanity.
And who cares if all they really want is a beer. Haven't you had days like that?
