Personal Struggles Of Being Homeless

I’ve never been homeless, but in my life my family has created personal bonds with a few homeless people. When I was really young and living in my first house, a man, whose name I can’t remember, lived with us for awhile. I didn’t think of much of it other than that I was not allowed to go in his room or touch his things because that was impolite. I didn’t know that he was homeless because I was too young to understand the concept of homelessness, but also because my parents treated him as they would anyone else. He had his own room and things, and we respected his privacy as you would any other roommate. He was very kind. He smiled a lot and the few times that I did interact with him I felt entirely comfortable. Even though I was not aware
that he was homeless, the respect my parents gave to a homeless person was instilled in me.
Much later on in my life, probably when I was about 14, my dad created a relationship with a homeless man named Mark. He lived in our neighborhood, just outside of a meat market a couple blocks from my house. I don’t know exactly how my dad first met him, but my dad made sure to keep in contact. He left out cans specifically for Mark and made sure to say hi whenever he saw him. We even invited him to our Christmas dinner one year. My dad still sees him sometimes and tells us how he’s doing. Last I heard, he is living inside the meat market and has a good relationship with the owners there. I think it has been incredibly important for me to understand homeless people as people not so different from myself. Personal relationships like these ones give me that insight on homelessness but also an understanding that we shouldn’t treat homeless people as lesser.
That played into my decision to pick homelessness as my social justice topic. Homelessness immediately came into my head because it is impossible to live in Portland without facing homelessness everyday and it is something I am forced to think about all the time. There are homeless people around me at bus stops in the morning as I go to school, when I’m on my lunch break at work, even sleeping on the steps of my school at times. I wanted to interact with homeless people more. It’s easy to feel like we live in a world with homelessness and homeless people, instead of seeing at as one world with the same people that happen to live different lives.
I chose to volunteer at City Teams and St.
Francis Dining Hall. I’ll be honest, when 4pm rolled around and it was time to go, I was reluctant. I wanted to go home, get my homework done and enjoy some tv. I felt guilty for feeling that way, especially when my service for that day was done and I got to go home to a warm house and dinner. In my service, I received many warm thank yous and an obvious appreciation for what little time I was giving to these homeless people. It was extremely humbling to serve food to tables of people in situations I cannot even begin to understand and to receive gratitude unlike any
other.
One night, a woman had come in just after meal service was ended and all the food had been put away.
“Is there any way I can get some food?” she asked. It stung to say no because I knew that there was food in the kitchen behind me. She was practically crying and desperately wanted something to eat, but no one would give anything. I have never found myself in a situation where I had to beg for food and went to bed hungry. It reminded me of the privileges I have in my life and made me realize on a bigger level that I am very lucky.
The one thing that always bothers me when I serve food to homeless people is the portions we are told to serve.
I had to spoon on the tiniest amount of mashed potatoes because we needed to make sure there was enough for everyone. When I looked down at the amount I was told to give, I pictured myself at home, serving myself way more than that. I always wanted to scoop more than I was supposed to and even got yelled at for putting too much a few times. Homeless people deserve so much more than they receive, but at the very least I think they should get a hefty plate of food before they have to sleep outside in the cold.
I remember one night it was very rainy, as is the norm for Portland. At the end of my two hour slot of service, everyone ran outside, rushing and shoving to get into the car and out of the rain. Immediately after sitting down in the car, I was overwhelmed with shame. A long line of homeless people waiting outside had watched us rush into the car; they were all standing there, still in the cold rain. I went home that night and truly appreciated my dry, warm home and
bed.
The thing I gained most from the volunteer hours was, by far, gratitude. The reason society ignores homeless people is because they lack respect and an understanding for how much they are blessed everyday. I wish we could force people to volunteer at places like City Teams or St. Francis Dining Hall because maybe they would learn to appreciate their lives more. I learned to appreciate even the simplest of things I have and to treat homeless people like I would anyone else. I gained respect for homeless people. I came face to face with the things I took for granted and started to appreciate them more.