In the US, we've got a serious problem with poverty. I see it every day--dirty men curled up on bus benches or meandering the sidewalks. I rarely see women, unless they're old. The younger ones may have better access to resources, or perhaps they're in hiding. If I take my bike, the street I go down passes the shelter. There's often a group of guys hanging out in the shade of the building across the street.
I usually try to say hi.
The early morning street meanderers often don't respond. They, quite frankly, often seem a bit off--crazy. If you think they're lazy bums that need to get jobs, I think you should try talking to them. They need help, serious mental help. Judging by their ages (mostly 60-ish), I think there is a good chance they were in the Vietnam War. My patriotism tells me that I have a debt to these men, regardless of my feelings about that or any other war. Our nation sent them abroad, forced them to witness and carry out terrible acts, and then returned them here. PTS might keep them from working. Or maybe it led to a drug addiction as a means of coping. If they were convicted of drug abuse, they lose veteran benefits. Is their homelessness their fault for drug use? I don't think a nation can violate the mind of another human being with war and then abandon them for showing basic symptoms of that violation.
The group I often pass by near the shelter is younger, late 30s through 50. They are cleaner, saner, willing to engage in a hello. They're even jovial at times. Unlike the crazy wanderers, these men form a community. They are not alone. They also look like they get a shower now and again, like they're a little better fed, like given the right opportunity they could get out of their predicament. Are you upset that they hang outside the shelter waiting for a handout? I'm not. The shelter is the primary tool that helps these men to maintain the social presence that makes them seem normal to me, like they are middle class people my parents could be friends with. Perhaps they lost jobs and then homes, but they are temporary. They're not stuck. They're using the resources available to get out.
Sometimes I ask myself what if I lost my job and home and ended up on the street. How would I get out? I would be right there where those men are, taking handouts from those willing to give it so that I could rise out and up. Without such resources, there's no way I could do it otherwise, but I would be hellbent on paying back that debt when I was done.
Those men, quite honestly, seem better off even than those with places to stay near where I live. The men by the shelter are educated. You can tell they have more opportunity awaiting them. There is hope in their eyes. Go a few blocks further north and you'll see others walking or riding bicycles to work, sometimes driving rusty cars. These folks look beaten, tired. They are working hard and gaining nothing--one paycheck away from starvation or homelessness themselves. These are the ones the system fails most. They can't possibly work harder than they're already working, and somehow, we think working harder will pull them out of this mess.
I'd like to see each presidential candidate sit down with these folks and ask them how they got where they are. Those folks to the north won't have a tale about what went wrong that put them where they are. They've always been there, lacking the resources to get out. One would gladly do it. The other might claim that he would not indulge the excuses of those who would not help themselves.
Then I'd like to see each presidential candidate imagine himself in that position and describe what he could do to get out. I know which candidate can realistically anticipate the barriers of ascension. And I know which candidate does not understand that borrowing money to invest in an unsure future is not a reasonable plan of action for some and that borrowing money to invest is not even an option for others. This candidate is not alone in his failure to imagine this reality outside his own. Millions of American are ill-equipped to understand the difficulty of poverty.
I know barriers exist for these unknown neighbors of mine, and yet I cannot fathom my life with such barriers. Even if I become homeless someday, I am educated and have no physical or mental limitations, preventing me from bouncing back. I have the advantage of middle class culture. I can only image myself as one of those men outside the shelter, equipped to get back into the game instead of lost in a hopeless struggle to survive.
We have human beings here in the US, suffering. I see them. They are not bums. They are not drug addicts. They are not lazy. They are human beings. And yet, it takes seeing them every single day to remind me that they're there and that I should do something. Otherwise I might forget.
But what should I do?
