every kind of facility keep people on hold for months for medical care, detox programs, housing. Some waits are as long as a year, while those on the lists grow despondent, get sicker and more desperate, or die. Funding is being slashed and eliminated at an alarming rate, so some programs disappear entirely while potential clients languish to no avail.
One of the methods of dealing with the homeless is called creaming, which is scooping the “cream” off the top and helping those who are most able. But those who are less capable, less functional, more disturbed or damaged, or mentally ill sink to the bottom of the system like rocks, where no one helps them. Those were the people we looked for when we did outreach on the streets: the ones who couldn’t get to free dining rooms, and the many who were often justifiably afraid of shelters, or too disturbed to be allowed to enter them, and had no idea how to fill out forms to access help. They are the trulyforgotten people of the streets, and the ones in greatest need. If we don’t reach out to them, who will? Almost no one does.
I don’t know about you, but going to the DMV gives me the vapors, standing in line at a department store makes me hysterical, and looking at a six-page form of any kind makes me feel brain dead. How is someone who is already in dire straits and often disoriented supposed to access help in a system where even trying to reach someone by phone puts you in cyberhell? Today calling a doctor, an insurance company, the post office, a passport agency, an airline, or even local information is a nightmare. How are people who are already in shaky shape supposed to deal with that? They don’t. They just give up. And worse yet, the agencies and people who are supposed to help them are overworked and understaffed and give up too.
There are far too few real, accessible programs for the homeless in every city. Philadelphia is said to be the best in the country in dealing with homelessness. I have no firsthand experience with that city. In San Francisco, where everyone on the streets readily agrees that the shelters are extremely dangerous, in order to get in, you have to be there by six o’clock, and one of the criteria for entry is that you not exhibit “bizarre behavior.” By definition, living on the streets can be called bizarre behavior. How many of us would qualify as
not
having bizarre behavior? And not everyone who wants to be in a shelter can get there precisely by six, or earlier if they need to line up. How easy are we making life for these people? Or more precisely, how difficult? And how realistic are we? Do we really have to make their lives so much more difficult than they already are?
The system I saw used most frequently to address the homeless was harassment. When I first began working on the streets, I kept hearing about the dreaded DPW. I had no idea what that was. The KGB maybe, with new initials? What exactly was this agency so feared among the homeless? I was soon to learn that it is the Department of Public Works. The theory is that if people are going to “insist” on living on the streets, then the city will just have to clean them up, tidy them up, and teach them a thing or two. Admittedly, the belongings of homeless people look messy. But how neat can you be when you’re living in a cardboard box, and everything you own is in a shopping cart with three wheels? The DPW solves that problem. They arrive with a giant dump truck, and if the homeless person is momentarily away at a public bathroom, trying to scrounge up something to eat, trying to find work, or maybe just asleep, the DPW truck scoops up all their belongings, and tidies up the mess for them. And suddenly the homeless person has no bedding, no clothes, and so little to their name that you weep to see it. After the DPW truck doesits job, they have absolutely nothing at all except the shirts on their backs, and rubber flip-flops they found in a trashcan somewhere. The
One of the methods of dealing with the homeless is called creaming, which is scooping the “cream” off the top and helping those who are most able. But those who are less capable, less functional, more disturbed or damaged, or mentally ill sink to the bottom of the system like rocks, where no one helps them. Those were the people we looked for when we did outreach on the streets: the ones who couldn’t get to free dining rooms, and the many who were often justifiably afraid of shelters, or too disturbed to be allowed to enter them, and had no idea how to fill out forms to access help. They are the trulyforgotten people of the streets, and the ones in greatest need. If we don’t reach out to them, who will? Almost no one does.
I don’t know about you, but going to the DMV gives me the vapors, standing in line at a department store makes me hysterical, and looking at a six-page form of any kind makes me feel brain dead. How is someone who is already in dire straits and often disoriented supposed to access help in a system where even trying to reach someone by phone puts you in cyberhell? Today calling a doctor, an insurance company, the post office, a passport agency, an airline, or even local information is a nightmare. How are people who are already in shaky shape supposed to deal with that? They don’t. They just give up. And worse yet, the agencies and people who are supposed to help them are overworked and understaffed and give up too.
There are far too few real, accessible programs for the homeless in every city. Philadelphia is said to be the best in the country in dealing with homelessness. I have no firsthand experience with that city. In San Francisco, where everyone on the streets readily agrees that the shelters are extremely dangerous, in order to get in, you have to be there by six o’clock, and one of the criteria for entry is that you not exhibit “bizarre behavior.” By definition, living on the streets can be called bizarre behavior. How many of us would qualify as
not
having bizarre behavior? And not everyone who wants to be in a shelter can get there precisely by six, or earlier if they need to line up. How easy are we making life for these people? Or more precisely, how difficult? And how realistic are we? Do we really have to make their lives so much more difficult than they already are?
The system I saw used most frequently to address the homeless was harassment. When I first began working on the streets, I kept hearing about the dreaded DPW. I had no idea what that was. The KGB maybe, with new initials? What exactly was this agency so feared among the homeless? I was soon to learn that it is the Department of Public Works. The theory is that if people are going to “insist” on living on the streets, then the city will just have to clean them up, tidy them up, and teach them a thing or two. Admittedly, the belongings of homeless people look messy. But how neat can you be when you’re living in a cardboard box, and everything you own is in a shopping cart with three wheels? The DPW solves that problem. They arrive with a giant dump truck, and if the homeless person is momentarily away at a public bathroom, trying to scrounge up something to eat, trying to find work, or maybe just asleep, the DPW truck scoops up all their belongings, and tidies up the mess for them. And suddenly the homeless person has no bedding, no clothes, and so little to their name that you weep to see it. After the DPW truck doesits job, they have absolutely nothing at all except the shirts on their backs, and rubber flip-flops they found in a trashcan somewhere. The
Similar Books
