Woo and Bieber: Roommates - Episode Three

The latest in the Woo and Bieber series:

A Moment Is...

Thank you to Rachel Braidman for leading me to Olive Gold and Wine, and therefore this video today:

One Year Later

Friday night at 6pm at John Hancock Hall in Boston there will be an event commemorating the one year anniversary for those who lost their lives in the earthquake in Port-Au -Prince.

If you can not attend in person you may want to consider joining in the event through the the web cast.

For more information check out  the Partners In Health, Stand With Haiti website.

The Boots Aren't The Woman - Part Two

Thinking about this lady's boots from The North Face reminded me of something that upsets me a lot when I see or hear it, so I'm going to climb on my tiny soap box for a minute.

I have seen a handful of tweets and status updates in the past few years voicing amusement or outright annoyance at behaviors or appearances that are out of line with how people would like to view the homeless in our communities. Some examples: "the guy asking for money at the bus stop had nicer sneakers than I do!" and "I just saw a homeless guy on a CELL PHONE!"  I've heard similar complaints or commentary from friends of friends or new acquaintances.

It's something I'd like to address here for just one second.

People who do not have homes are not required to fit your expectations of what homelessness looks like.

I understand that many people's immediate reactions to seeing signs of stability in a person who has their hand out for scraps is to conclude a disparity. The perceived duality can be off putting. Perhaps some people feel they are being "tricked" into providing for this person who is merely pretending to be impoverished, or who is just too lazy to get an actual job. That might make me angry too. I understand.

But let me offer you some thoughts that may help you to understand why I think it is so offensive to pass judgment on someone's level of need based on their appearance.

1. Everyone loves to donate stuff. Homeless men and women are often recipients of hand outs. Those really nice sneakers that your local pan handler is wearing may very well have come from your neighbor's closet. Or were donated by the family of someone recently deceased. Or were collected in a church clothing drive. For society to want every single homeless man and woman on the street to dress like a Dickens' character all in rags is a little bit silly considering the amount of people who like to donate their stuff to the "less fortunate."  

2. Gifts are for everyone. The lady in the first part of this post received boots, really nice boots, from her mother. Her mother can NOT buy her a house, a clean bill of health, freedom from addiction, or the mental capacity for managing her life. But she can buy her a pair of boots to prevent immersion foot or frostbite. Homeless men and women do not have homes, but it doesn't mean they don't have families, or loved ones. Or in some cases - concerned sponsors. For Christmas, for example, this year every single patient at the respite facility where I work was visited by Santa Claus and given one brand new item of clothing and a brand new L.L. Bean backpack. It breaks my heart to think that anyone, seeing someone panhandling while wearing that brand new backpack might think "this person doesn't need help, look at that backpack." The bag was free. The person is still trapped in the cycle of street life.

3. Low income is still income. I know you know. But it bears reminding that some homeless men and woman may be the recipient of some form of disability check or veterans checks. They have as much right to spend their money they way they want as you or I do. If that means skipping lunch until they get a used walk-man so be it. Seriously. They could be using their money to buy things like cigarettes, food, or to pay for a track phone*. There are so many barriers to housing for many members of our society that it would take an entire different post to explain why buying day to day necessities/whims is more practical than going without those things. 

 I desperately want to break down any argument that if someone is wearing a nice piece of clothing, or carrying a nice purse, or eating a cheeseburger while they are out stemming that they must be manipulating you out of your money. Not because I want you to give them your money. In fact, I do not condone giving cash to panhandlers.** However, I can't sit by silently while I witness stereotypes being propagated about the members of our community who do not have stable housing. Lack of understanding about why people are homeless, or what homelessness looks like is a major barrier to finding an end to the problem. 

Our sympathy for the poor should not be limited by some implicit requirement for poor people to look and act the way the middle class expects them to. This is the attitude which keeps the class divide alive and well. If we truly want to end suffering for our fellow humans, we will not require people to prove their pain to us before we offer relief.  

So the next time you see someone sleeping outside of the train station, or holding out a cup in the park and they're wearing a super nice coat or they have a brand name back pack let your reaction be thankful and hopeful. Be thankful that in some small way this fellow human being is being taken care of. And be hopeful that if it's you out in the cold someday, someone will give you a super nice coat too. Let's not any of us deny human comforts to anyone, simply because we think they should be wearing their trauma more prominently on their sleeves. 

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* The phone thing is also a whole other entry that is partially written out already in reply to someone who once asked me why a homeless person needs to use the phone at all.

**There is a list of things I do condone giving out to panhandlers, which I will be posting soon and will link back to here.

It's Fair

New Terrifying Patient: The last person who called me by my full name is dead. I shot him.
Me: Huh. Well my name is Michelle and I don't  have a gun so I guess you can call me Michelle.
New Terrifying Patient: I like you.

The Boots Aren't The Woman - Part One

"It's my nurse!" I recognize her voice before I turned around, even though she is stuffing a donut into her mouth with fingers red from exposure to the cold.

"I'm living in an apartment with this guy near -------- .," she tells me after I asked.
"Is it safe?" is my first question.
"No," she says without pausing. "Not really, but it's what I've got for now."

Her voice lowers to whisper and she reminds me of the health condition combo that currently excludes her from staying in any shelter. "It's not their fault," she says with resignation in her voice, "but it's not my fault either. Either way, I can't sleep in the cold so I'm in with him for the winter."

She adds, "we're not having sex or anything like that. He's just a loser."

I nod to assure her that I'm hearing her, wondering what she is editing for my benefit.

"I went to [a shelter] cuz they say I got mail. I thought it was from my Mom, but it's just bills."
I shake my head sadly, but she laughs and repeats the line like a punchline to a great joke, "just bills!"

"She did by me these boots though. My Mom did," she points down and I see that she is wearing North Face Boots. I am relieved. Two fewer frostbitten feet in the ER this winter.

"My family that's how they buy me. Clothes. They buy my love with clothes," she is half joking but her lip trembles.

"No. That's how they protect you from freezing to death out here," I point out. "They do love you." Her face breaks into a smile, although her mouth is still shaking. "Yeah, I know," she answers, and busies herself with the donut wrapper, which needs to be folded up.

She looks good, better than she did when I saw her last. Sober, I think to myself, with a bit of surprise. She has a little bit of makeup on, just foundation and some mascara. She got glasses somewhere and they frame her face well.  She's wearing a wool coat, a knit cap and the boots. All, I imagine, gifts from her mother and brother.

On the way home I am struck thinking about her coat and boots. I have really similar boots, just as new as hers, actually.  My mother bought them for me for Christmas. Incidentally, my mother also bought my new puffy down coat because she was sick of watching me layer sweatshirts underneath my denim jacket all winter long.

I wonder about her mother, whom I have never met and probably will never meet. I can not begin to imagine how different her situation must be from my own. Her mother sends her checks to the shelter. I take my mother out for lunch on Fridays.  And yet...I can't get the image of boots and coats out of my head.
Boots and coats, carefully chosen and paid for. Laid into boxes, or folded into bags. Gifts from women who otherwise might have nothing in common except that they can't stand the thought of their daughters being cold or wet if they have anything to do about it.