Talking About "Them" / Ignoring "Them" at the Same Time

She was a brunette, with straight, brushed hair and average clothing.  From behind, she looked a bit like a college professor or a graduate student.  I never saw her face or her expressions, and I can only imagine my own facial expression, full of deep shock, distain, frustration.  If this woman had been a professor, a student, or any average working professional, her concerns would have been heard.  Her indignation would have been recognized.  Her story would have been deemed worthy of hearing.  But this woman was homeless.  And so two men, and an entire auditorium, could render her story a fabrication.  An entire university could make her disappear.

Last Thursday, I attended an event on campus called "Solutions to Homelessness."  Being new to town, I was eager to learn about the homeless in San Diego.  And learn I did - over 9000 counted homeless, including about 3000 school-aged children, live in my city.  There are literally hundreds of agencies, non-profit and government-run, to meet the needs of these men, women, and children.  I am grateful for each one of them.  Truly, I am.  They are doing the work of God.

Then why was I immediately unsettled by the panel of service-providers before me?  Nine men and women dressed in suits, speaking of the clients whom they serve.  Nine voices, none of whom had ever been homeless.  Nine voices that spoke of the collective poor without once sharing a specific story or face of poverty.  Somehow, at such an event, the only faces of homelessness were an artist's photographs to preface the panel.  The artist pointed out that, if the stigma on homelessness wasn't so severe, perhaps some homeless individuals would have joined in the conversation.  My cynical side immediately thought: "If there wasn't such a stigma, maybe we would have thought to invite them in the first place."  Amongst the business suits and talk about "clients," somehow the homeless didn't seem to fit at the expansive table.

So, back to this woman - sitting near the front, with a loud, clear voice and a story to tell.  After the panelists had done a sufficient job of complimenting themselves and each other on the work they do, she raised her fist in the air during the time for Q & A.  "I have been homeless since October," she said.  "I joined with the Occupy movement for months, where I was included and well-fed until the police forced us to leave."  She went on to explain more of her plight, culminating in a horrific morning of being woken up by the police, along with the dozens of people around her, at 5 a.m.  She was sleeping near the train tracks with no other place to go (San Diego has less than half of the shelter beds it would need to house all their homeless population).  She was mistreated and belittled, told to move on, and given a citation which she can't afford to pay.  "So I want to ask each one of you here," she concluded her plea, "what you are going to do about the treatment of the homeless by the police here in San Diego."  A just question, followed by (thank God!) a smattering of applause.  Having seen and heard of the criminalization of the homeless in Nashville, I felt my soul sit right next to this woman's.  Christ stands with her, so I do too.

A middle-aged male panelist immediately responded with barely concealed anger and paternalism.  "Respectfully, I complete disagree with you."  Um, disagree with what, exactly?  With her personal testimony?  With her pain?  With the fact that she deserves respect?  He went on to lecture her, asking her to imagine this department that is short on funds and people, just doing the best they can.  "You should ride around with a police officer one night, just to see how hard their job is.  Besides, we can't judge an entire department on one bad apple."

There was a one-second pause in which every other panelist averted their eyes from the woman sitting not 10 feet in front of them, and then the moderator moved on to a final, unrelated question, referencing our limited time for this event.  USD students sat and watched the whole thing - students who are supposed to be formed and shaped into compassionate servants and global citizens.        

Maybe the panelist is right - maybe the San Diego Police Department is a leader in our nation of the just treatment of the homeless.  To me, their website indicates otherwise, telling me not to give the homeless food (that's not exactly what Christ tells me) or permission to "loiter on my property."  That isn't really the issue, though, is it?

The conversation, and the panel, that took place last Thursday is about authenticity (or perhaps hypocrisy).  Do we listen to the poor, or do we talk about "them" without including them in the conversation?  Do we provide charity to the homeless, while denying them justice?  Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.