An e-mail I wrote after a recent Andy Oudman show.
I have a couple comments regarding your show this
week on homelessness and panhandling.
First of all, I appreciate the fact that you even brought it
up. It seems that often we don't address it as a real issue, because we have
become desensitized to it. However, the major thrust of the conversation turned
into a problematic simple battle cry. "Don't give them money." If you
want bonus points send them to an agency, and then wash your hands of guilt.
The problem with this is multi-faceted. Many agencies (which
I am NOT against, and think do wonderful things in this city) are at, or over
capacity. This story rings true across the country. Rehab programs have to be
cut short because the agencies simply do not have the resources or capacity to
handle the need. I can't tell you how many times I have heard stories of people
who genuinely wanted to turn their life around but were unable to receive the
support they needed to get "over the hump."
The second problem is that we feed our already inflated
individually centered mindset with the following lies: "I have done what I
could" or "It's not my problem, they need to straighten their life
out before I can help them." Don't get me wrong I am ALL FOR individual
liberty, and often shake my head at government solutions. However, I see this
problem as a breakdown of community. That is, if we were truly involved in
caring communities, somebody who has fallen through the cracks IS OUR PROBLEM.
That means we should do what we can to fix this, and not A) ignore it, or B)
let someone else deal with it.
So what could we possibly do to help these people? I believe
that one of your guests, Bob Black, was the only one who seemed to get it. It
is about relationship. He never once suggested a one for all stamp solution
(i.e. give money or not), but emphasized getting to know each individual on a
personal level. I can tell you that from Vancouver to London you could not find
an identical story as to why a person has fallen to the lowest of low. Yes,
there are similarities, but it is FAR more complex then we often make it out to
be. Can you imagine a community where individuals took time out of their daily
or weekly routines to actually form a relationship with someone at the bottom
of our society? Transformation takes time, energy, and a whole lot of patience.
You were right to say that: These people have to want to change, but in order
to desire this change they need hope they can depend on, not a half hearted job
offer when they are addicted to oxycotton, and have a broken family.
Contrary to what some
of your callers believe, most of these people are not lying to take your money,
and if they are it is likely because they are too embarrassed to tell their
real story in fear judgement. Furthermore, for every one panhandler there are twenty
faces that you cannot see with similar stories, sometimes even worse off.
Also, what might come as a surprise to some of your listeners
is that so many of the panhandlers were in the same position we are now, and in the
blink of an eye they ended up crushed at the bottom of society. Sometimes it
was a bad decision, sometimes it was bad luck, almost always they didn’t have a
network of family or friends that you and I have when we make the same bad
choices. I can’t imagine how hard it
would be to motivate myself everyday knowing that I don’t have family and
friends that can pick me up, and instead have to deal with the stigma of
society. Think of only a simplified example. There is literally zero difference
between a drunken man living on the street, and a hopeless alcoholic who
happens to live in a million dollar condo, except that one has social
acceptance and money to rely on.
You started off your show by saying how touched you felt
when you thought that this could be happening to a “real person in your
neighbourhood.” Until we stop thinking about these people as a “nuisance,” and
realize that they always have been, and always will be real people just with a
different circumstance then us, we will continue to sit on our high horse
claiming to show compassion, while secretly feeling proud of our own jobs or
accomplishments.