Personal Narrative: My Journey To The Homeless Community

When I was a child with a constant racing mind, one could imagine the thoughts that would have gone through my head throughout an average day, things like ‘why is the sky blue’, ‘how many hairs are there on a dog’, or ‘when’s the next new episode of Lizzie McGuire going to be on?’ You may not be surprised by an eight year old asking to her step father what he’d do with one million donuts. I answered my own question before he could even think and surprised him. He had been expecting me to want to eat them all, and I instead told him I’d love to feed all of the homeless in the world. Later that night he told my mom of what I said during that conversation, though she wasn’t surprised as I had grown up as a very aware child in Ottawa, a city with over six thousand homeless citizens. She believed that my exposure to cultures in school and my natural empathetic abilities helped me become the person I am now.
During sixth grade, a woman came to do a presentation for my school about the holocaust and World War Two, something I was just beginning to learn about. My reading tutor, a friendly older lady who had a soft spot for me, was Jewish and her parents and relatives had experienced concentration camp first hand so the presentation was emotional for her and she cried. After
the presentation I took it upon myself to approach her and talk to her about it since I’ve never wanted to see anybody sad. I told her that the presentation must have been hard for her sit through and that she must’ve been a strong lady, and asked her if she was alright. Her answer was simply a hug, and a month later during the appreciation assembly she thanked me with an empathy award.
Eleven years after my donut story, I still would love to help people, not just the homeless but those that can’t fight for themselves, like the citizens of Aleppo who can’t pass a day without death, the women who are having their rights to their bodies ripped away from them, and the people of colour who are being stereotyped and mistreated daily.
Six years after the exchange during the presentation, I still can’t sit back as I see someone in pain. Although I have many passions, I believe none of them are as strong as my passion for equality and happiness. I see in the news the power of the #NoDAPL protesters, and the unity of the marchers during the Women’s March, and I wish to be a part of
change.
From the smallest things like a school mate being short two dollars for lunch, to protesting for equal rights I want to know that I’ve made a difference in the life of others. As big as feeding the homeless and as small as making a person smile, I want to make a difference.