My mom sent me an email this morning with the subject line "attack". Awesome. Can't wait to open that one. Much to my chagrin, a woman was assaulted last night only two blocks away outside of our local grocery store. These were all the details I had so of course I was a little shaken, but it's the "Big City". This shit happens, so to speak.
Come to find out she told two homeless people, when approached for a cigarette, that they should "Get a job." They bashed her teeth in and she's in critical condition at Northwestern Hospital.
So there's a couple things there that, for me, would never happen. I don't generally talk to homeless folk. It's not out of spite or malice or anything evil. It's just self-defense. Sadly most of the forgotten are mentally ill and any sudden movement or eye cast sideways could be a trigger. I'm not being dramatic, I'm being realistic. Engaging is tough, though it's incredibly hard to ignore the despair and destitution that sits under your nose and idles alongside you down the street.
I also never say anything derogatory. It's just not necessary. Being homeless is dehumanizing enough. I can imagine you become invisible, desperate and, to some, sub-human. It makes my stomach tighten out of the conflict of whether to help or not and whether any help is really doing any good. More than a dollar or a carton of food, I'd like to send them to a shelter, get them off drugs, give them some professional training. . . intervene on the state of affairs.
The city is an amazing and tragic place all at once. I was walking past Salvatore Ferragamo today on Michigan Ave. thinking who has the gaul to buy a $2,000 handbag. In an overt display of irony, a homeless man held a sign asking, "Money for beer, please. If you were me, you'd ask too."
Whereas in Michigan I was pleasantly, passively ignorant to dire straits, it's right here in my face every day, every block. For a reason.
3 comments:
A friend of mine in DC was recently slapped across the face by a homeless woman for no apparent reason. She's 5'1" and probably 85 lbs sopping wet, but something about her that day said "hit me!" to that woman and she did.
Although my altruism beckons me to buy them a sandwich or accompany them to some assistance center, my default is almost always just to avoid eye contact. It is sad, isn't it?
I was once yelled at and spit on by a homeless woman when I lived in Chicago. I didn't say or do anything - I was just walking by her, and whammo.
Never the less, I too share your sentiments of wanting to help them but giving money always seems like a crutch.
Hopefully someday this dilemma will have a solution.
Fortunately in LA, we only see homeless people from our cars, which makes it less traumatic. Unless, of course, you're in Santa Monica where all the homeless are lying on the beach, writing or reading - and just basically getting a tan and living comfortably on God's green earth without the stresses of a power or cell phone bill to pay.
xoxo
And here in Pontiac (a Detroit suburb of sorts), three teens were arrested recently for violence (and murder) of a homeless man (link: http://www.wwj.com/pages/2855907.php?).
It is indeed a sad state of affairs, and a scary world we live in. Be careful out there.
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