The New Face of Homelessness

One of the most left-handed compliments I receive from time to time is when I am stopped on the street by a panhandler asking for change, to whom I respond, “I’m homeless myself,” is the remark, “You look pretty good to be homeless.” Admittedly, I work hard at keeping up appearances so that I don’t look run down and dirty, but I am hardly alone; at my shelter, many residents are well dressed, carry briefcases and cell phones, and look anything but the picture of homeless grunge. It would seem that homelessness has many faces and not just the stereotypical face of the poor panhandler on the street.

When I worked in downtown Washington, many people warned me not to walk down E Street NW in the direction of Union Station, because there stood one of the best known shelters for the homeless in both the city and the nation. Always they spoke of the shelter as “that place,” and I was told, “You don’t want to deal with those people.” If someone had told me then that I would later be one of “those people,” I might have gone inside to look the place over to see just what the future held for me. That question still remains a major one for the homeless: what future is there for them?

It’s hard to say what is the most frightening aspect about being homeless; far too many frightening aspects exist. Perhaps the most intimidating fact is that most people, including those persons whose job it is to help the homeless rebuild their lives, seem to have little or no idea what the life of a homeless person is like. From one homeless person to the next, the difference can be startling. Some find sanctuary in a residential shelter, as I did. Some go and come from shelters that put them out with all their belongings every day. Others sleep wherever they can find a spot that they feel is safe enough. None of these options are solutions; they are just stepping stones on a long, arduous journey into a world where hope is very scarce.

Trying to keep a normal appearance is a major challenge, but it can make the difference between being chronically homeless and finding a way back to a normal life. As I was to learn, appearances are not merely physical today; I found I had to keep up appearances over the phone, by email, even by the postal service. I made the error of giving a prospective employer the telephone number of the shelter once and suddenly ceased to be a candidate. As absurd as it sounded, I had to buy a cell phone if I ever hoped to find work again. Even failing to respond to an email in a timely fashion would yield the same result. The same was true about putting a mailing address on a résumé; giving the address of a shelter was unthinkable, but even giving a post office box would arouse suspicion. I found that saying I was unemployed would not torpedo my chances of being hired, but saying that I was homeless would.

Some people associate the image with having a racial, ethnic, or socio-economic connotation; when I entered the shelter, I could tell from the looks on the faces of the other residents that they were sure my travel agent had booked me into the wrong hotel. As I later heard from one of the staff members, the last thing anyone there would expect would be to find an educated, highly articulate, and well-kept person coming to live in a homeless shelter. As time passed, I met many persons with qualifications that would seem to indicate that being unemployed or homeless would never be a problem for them counted among the homeless population. Clearly the face of homelessness has changed; the claim that it could happen to anyone is now an irrefutable fact.

No matter what face homelessness may have, ignoring homelessness will not make it go away; that’s already evident because the problem is still with us. The real question is if anyone really cares enough to do anything to solve the problem once and for all. At some point, the problem must be solved. The question was, is, and always will be, when.