You don’t know the utter lack of compassion for human life until you, yourself, are on the corner of 7th and D Street in Washington, D.C., watching feet walk past your non-existence.
For my spring break, as my friends were on the beach, sippin’ a pińa colada (virgin, of course), I was participating in Xavier’s Alternative Break, delving into the issue of homelessness. The National Homeless Coalition gave us each a blanket and sent us out the door with no money, food or a phone for our 48-hour immersion experiencing homelessness so that we could better understand how to advocate for those who don’t get heard.
Little did I know, the barriers I put up between those experiencing homelessness and myself were about to shatter into a million pieces.
It isn’t until you walk miles to a soup kitchen for your only meal of the day just to get turned away because you’re a female at a men’s shelter, or until you have to sleep on cardboard from the dumpster and are up all night because you’re so cold that you realize basic privileges have been stripped from so many. It’s not until joining the homeless community and meeting so many beautiful people with bad luck that you realize discrimination is not just between races. It’s not until you have to ask a hotel to use their bathroom or shower, only to get rejected, that you feel every ounce of pride reluctantly going down the back of your throat as you try to swallow. It’s not until the most eye contact you make is with a dog at your eye level that you feel your self-worth slowly diminishing.
You don’t know greed until you hear conversations about who bought the most expensive shoes as you sit there hoping to hear a few coins’ rattle in your cup so you can eat. When the sun sets, the hunger sets in.
The divide in society is made apparent in my panhandling tally as I vulnerably held a cardboard sign saying “Acknowledge me. Acknowledge the issue.” It totaled two smiles, one wave, one reprimand, one dinner offer, nine eye-rolls and countless instances of being ignored.
People ignore the homeless population completely because they would feel guilty if they were to make eye contact and keep walking past someone who was in need. Society does not view the minute it takes to say hi and feel compassion as being worth possibly uplifting someone’s entire day. But the few acknowledgements make a tremendous difference and gave me hope as I was beginning to lose faith in myself because I was surviving out of the kindness of others.
My trip was called a Glimpse of Homelessness because that’s exactly what it was: a glimpse. I am no expert on the issue because of this experience, but I have such a profound respect for anyone experiencing homelessness. It’s not a lot to ask to take a moment out of your day to acknowledge these people as human beings, whether it’s a smile, some extra change, a nod or simply asking them their name or how they’re doing. One day, that could be you out there craving a conversation and some human recognition.
