Hello Scribes,
I stopped and talked with Angie on my way home from work on Friday. My boss was feeling festive and let us go home an hour early. I guess because I had time, I took pause to stop and speak with a young lady who was speaking to everyone who was walking past her. I noticed that she only had a few pennies in her jar and she looked discouraged. I stopped and asked, "How are you doing today?" That question opened up a thirty minute conversation and gave me many things to think about in my own life.
The person I met on Friday is more than a homeless woman, she is a woman named Angie with dreams, goals, hope and faith.
The person I met on Friday is more than a homeless woman, she is a woman named Angie with dreams, goals, hope and faith.
I encounter many homeless people on a daily basis - I work downtown. Usually I am on a mission during my lunch break: get a book from the library, fill up my Fit Bit with steps, meet a friend for lunch, shop, or catch the bus. I don't have time, nor do I carry cash for every individual I meet who is asking for money. I keep my eyes away from their eyes and I walk as quickly as I can past them and their reality. I have encountered"homeless" people who did not need money and my naiveté to the scammers has made me nervous.
Angie is really homeless. If she isn't she did her research about what life is like for homeless individuals. Angie shared with me how she lives in a tent on the North side of Pittsburgh. She doesn't have money to catch the bus so she walks from one side of town to the other to see her obstetrician. On the hill where she sleeps there are no other women so she carries a knife and mace to protect herself from the men sleeping near her. "You sleep with one eye open?"
"Yes. I wish I could go somewhere and lie down. I'm sleepy and my feet are swollen." She lifted up her feet for me to see. I observed the holes in her shoes before she pointed them out to me.
How could this all be a lie? She seems authentic. I wish I could help her. "Why are you out here?"
"I was in a domestic violence relationship." She pointed to her neck but I didn't see any scars. "He choked me with a rubber cord. She rubbed her right side, ". . . and broke my rib. He is in prison now and I was staying with his family before it happened."
"You don't have any other family?"
"No. My mom died when I was thirteen. I don't have anyone."
I almost cried, "My mom died in April." Being motherless is a sisterhood neither of us wanted, but it bonded us to each other. You can't lie about losing your Mommy, it changes everything you know. "Do you have a phone?
"I have an Obama phone. It doesn't have any minutes on it yet. Sometimes I just sit and stare at my phone. I don't have anyone to talk to." I almost gave her my number.
"Every day I pray to God that he will keep me safe for my son. I get so sick, I've lost twenty pounds since I've been out here." She paused, "God, please spare my son." Her baby is due in October. She wants a biblical name, I like Noah.
"So you mean to tell me you are homeless, pregnant and you were in a domestic violence relationship but there is nowhere in this city you can go?" I work for the human services agency, I have to believe there is something that exists to help her. Every resource I gave her she had tried already. Being on waiting lists and having to call every day to get into the homeless shelter is her ritual. I was getting angry that there was no help for her, "Can you get a job?"
I could see the frustration frame the expression on her face. "The doctors don't want me to work. My iron was low, I asked the doctor to put me in the hospital. He told me he couldn't put me in the hospital just because I was homeless." It was at that moment that I gave her a $5 bill. "I can't get WIC because I don't have an address. I'm just kind of stuck."
Uggh! I was beginning to seethe inside.
"I love church, I go to church as often as I can."
"Can they help you?" I asked.
"I spoke to them but they don't have any money right now."
Not even churches can help? What is wrong with this picture?
Angie broke my thoughts, "There is one girl out here who is pregnant and she stays out here until she makes $100 a day."
"If she makes that much money, why does she need to come out every day?" I see her and another girl sit across the street from each other making jokes and I never give them money, they don't even ask me for any.
"That is my point exactly," she said. "My goal is to raise $15 so I can make it through the weekend. Monday is a holiday. No one will be down here so I have to get batteries for my flashlight, candles and new socks."
"What do you eat?"
"I'm hungry and thirsty right now. I just try to buy canned goods with flip tabs. If I buy fast food I could spend all my money and the food won't last." She talked about how she doesn't like water. I told her to think of Jesus, he is the living water.
As people walked by Angie was stoic with her sign, "God Bless you Sir." She nodded her head, "God bless you Ma'am." No one stopped except for a woman who walked by and exclaimed "Hey, girl!"
Angie rolled her eyes, "She stops and tells me about her life. She complains about her husband and her job. I didn't want to talk to her today."
I stood with Angie for at least half an hour watching people look at her with disdain and walk past her. We talked about how there are times when the building owner calls the police on her if others join her under the shade. She shuddered when the police drove by, afraid they would tell her to move. She talked about how people treat her and how she has to be resourceful to protect herself. We talked about how I had developed a fear about giving money:
Angie is really homeless. If she isn't she did her research about what life is like for homeless individuals. Angie shared with me how she lives in a tent on the North side of Pittsburgh. She doesn't have money to catch the bus so she walks from one side of town to the other to see her obstetrician. On the hill where she sleeps there are no other women so she carries a knife and mace to protect herself from the men sleeping near her. "You sleep with one eye open?"
"Yes. I wish I could go somewhere and lie down. I'm sleepy and my feet are swollen." She lifted up her feet for me to see. I observed the holes in her shoes before she pointed them out to me.
How could this all be a lie? She seems authentic. I wish I could help her. "Why are you out here?"
"I was in a domestic violence relationship." She pointed to her neck but I didn't see any scars. "He choked me with a rubber cord. She rubbed her right side, ". . . and broke my rib. He is in prison now and I was staying with his family before it happened."
"You don't have any other family?"
"No. My mom died when I was thirteen. I don't have anyone."
I almost cried, "My mom died in April." Being motherless is a sisterhood neither of us wanted, but it bonded us to each other. You can't lie about losing your Mommy, it changes everything you know. "Do you have a phone?
"I have an Obama phone. It doesn't have any minutes on it yet. Sometimes I just sit and stare at my phone. I don't have anyone to talk to." I almost gave her my number.
"Every day I pray to God that he will keep me safe for my son. I get so sick, I've lost twenty pounds since I've been out here." She paused, "God, please spare my son." Her baby is due in October. She wants a biblical name, I like Noah.
"So you mean to tell me you are homeless, pregnant and you were in a domestic violence relationship but there is nowhere in this city you can go?" I work for the human services agency, I have to believe there is something that exists to help her. Every resource I gave her she had tried already. Being on waiting lists and having to call every day to get into the homeless shelter is her ritual. I was getting angry that there was no help for her, "Can you get a job?"
I could see the frustration frame the expression on her face. "The doctors don't want me to work. My iron was low, I asked the doctor to put me in the hospital. He told me he couldn't put me in the hospital just because I was homeless." It was at that moment that I gave her a $5 bill. "I can't get WIC because I don't have an address. I'm just kind of stuck."
Uggh! I was beginning to seethe inside.
"I love church, I go to church as often as I can."
"Can they help you?" I asked.
"I spoke to them but they don't have any money right now."
Not even churches can help? What is wrong with this picture?
Angie broke my thoughts, "There is one girl out here who is pregnant and she stays out here until she makes $100 a day."
"If she makes that much money, why does she need to come out every day?" I see her and another girl sit across the street from each other making jokes and I never give them money, they don't even ask me for any.
"That is my point exactly," she said. "My goal is to raise $15 so I can make it through the weekend. Monday is a holiday. No one will be down here so I have to get batteries for my flashlight, candles and new socks."
"What do you eat?"
"I'm hungry and thirsty right now. I just try to buy canned goods with flip tabs. If I buy fast food I could spend all my money and the food won't last." She talked about how she doesn't like water. I told her to think of Jesus, he is the living water.
As people walked by Angie was stoic with her sign, "God Bless you Sir." She nodded her head, "God bless you Ma'am." No one stopped except for a woman who walked by and exclaimed "Hey, girl!"
Angie rolled her eyes, "She stops and tells me about her life. She complains about her husband and her job. I didn't want to talk to her today."
I stood with Angie for at least half an hour watching people look at her with disdain and walk past her. We talked about how there are times when the building owner calls the police on her if others join her under the shade. She shuddered when the police drove by, afraid they would tell her to move. She talked about how people treat her and how she has to be resourceful to protect herself. We talked about how I had developed a fear about giving money:
- I have given food to people asking for food and watched them throw it away.
- When I was a child welfare worker a few years ago I gave my last five dollars to a couple who gave me a long story about having been robbed and needing bus fare to get home to their son. My coworker at the time told me to watch my back, "don't give money to skinny white kids." He was familiar with the heroin culture and had seen the track marks on their arms, I hadn't known to look for them.
- I saw a woman hand a wad of money to a man under a bridge. They laughed and she went back out to sit with her sign.
People have said that I am naive. I just believe there is good in everyone. I let my heart lead my actions on Friday and I met someone who helped me understand that homelessness is as real as the cancer that killed my mother. Although it has not been my reality, homelessness exists and I can't close my eyes to real people who need affordable, safe and appropriate housing.
I plan to check on Angie once a week. I heard her say that she is all alone and I don't want her to feel that no one in the world sees her. I saw her, spoke with her, prayed with her and saw her faith. I was touched by the lack of resources to help a pregnant woman who survived domestic violence that Angie says, "almost killed me."
The next time I see Angie I plan to take some shoes, baby wipes, socks, water, hand sanitizer and a few non perishable items for her to put in her backpack. I may not be able to eradicate homelessness, but I can be kind and help one woman who is pregnant, homeless and hopeful.
Keep walking,
I plan to check on Angie once a week. I heard her say that she is all alone and I don't want her to feel that no one in the world sees her. I saw her, spoke with her, prayed with her and saw her faith. I was touched by the lack of resources to help a pregnant woman who survived domestic violence that Angie says, "almost killed me."
The next time I see Angie I plan to take some shoes, baby wipes, socks, water, hand sanitizer and a few non perishable items for her to put in her backpack. I may not be able to eradicate homelessness, but I can be kind and help one woman who is pregnant, homeless and hopeful.
Keep walking,
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