by Russell Wait

Everything I ever needed to know, I learned from being homeless. Life's funny that way for me. Faced with homelessness a few months ago, I felt sure I'd finally come to the end. I felt that, having stared into the abyss too long, the abyss had finally reached up and grabbed me. I never thought I could come back from losing everything, let alone learn much. That's what I get for thinking.

Simple lessons, which I'll probably muck up with a bunch of three dollar words. The first lesson concerned truth. The dominant emotion I experienced at first was shame. I felt like I owed the world an apology for what I'd become. Shame takes an incident or circumstance and wraps it around me as my identity. Instead of feeling foolish for spilling a glass of milk, I identify myself as a fool and a milk spiller. That's what homelessness and indigency first did to me.

Thus, my first lesson: There is no shame in being homeless. This is something that happened to me, not who I am. I'm not a bad or worthless person for not having a home or a job. My mental illness, my addiction, my lack of job skills - none of these was my fault. Shame and blame act on the human mind like poisons act on the body. They paralyze and destroy. They keep me from seeing the truth.

The simple truth I came to see was that worrying about fault and blame kept me from taking responsibility. Treating and medicating my mental illness and my addiction are my responsibility. Learning a job skill, getting an education - my responsibility. I am responsible for making my life better. I am responsible for asking for help.

Sometimes, society seems really out of whack. Our values only revolve around money and profit. People don't care enough about each other. But true as these things may be, I cannot afford to waste time blaming others for my problems. Victimizations is a trap I don't want to get caught in.

So it's vitally important that I accept responsibility. But I must be careful not to accept the unacceptable. If political and social forces conspire to tramp on me and my community, I am responsible for raising my voice in opposition. If people within my neighborhood jeopardize the community, I am responsible for standing against them too.

I have a vote and I must use it. I have an obligation to demand protection and security of my elected leaders. To accept the unacceptable and allow it to flourish is to condone evil. Condoning evil leads me back into being dehumanized.

I am a human being and I want always to keep that in mind. I am not an animal. Nor do I have any business living like one. Animals sleep outside and forage through garbage to eat. Animals struggle to stay alive any way they can. Animals live hand-to-mouth. Unfortunately, so do humans. Just because people sleep in parks and eat from dumpsters and live from shelter to soup kitchen doesn't mean it's supposed to be that way. We were created to do more than just get by. The shelter cannot become my home. The shelter ought to be a way station as I progress toward a better life. The day I call the shelter my home marks the day I finally give up.

Victims give up. Victims get overwhelmed by the negativity around them and give in to it. Being negative is too easy. It demands nothing. It also pays nothing back, with interest. Treating people with kindness, respect, compassion, dignity and love takes more strength and strivers.

Striving for excellence, for positivism and perseverance means struggling, hard work and keeping the faith. That struggle will always be rewarded. The reward may not be in cash and material wealth. It may come as contentment with myself and satisfaction with what I've done. Still I'd rather be content and feel good about myself than have an apartment full of stuff and an empty soul. Hard work and a loving attitude will be their own reward, just as selfishness and cynicism become their own punishment.

For me, any work is better than begging. Panhandling ought not be a crime, but it should be offensive to me at a personal level. If I beg for money when I could work for it, I descend again into the unacceptable. Begging is settling for whatever I get. Day labor may suck, but my dignity is worth the hassle. When dignity ceases to have meaning, I have again lost sight of what it means to be human.

Sadly, many have gone too far into the inhuman. Many of my friends will not be able to save themselves. Some don't even seem to want to be saved. Some truths are hard, and this is one of the hardest: Not everyone will make it. I believe it is important to make the effort to help others up with me. But I can't save everyone. I will have to stand by, helpless at times and watch people fall apart or get crushed by the weights of their problems. This is always horrible, but when it becomes inevitable, the best I can do is get out of the way.

My best is all I have to give some days. My best will not seem good enough. It will be. But it won't feel like it. Some days the best I can do is keep my mouth shut. I can only reach for progress. The day I get it perfect will probably be a few days after they plant me. Some days I will break every guideline I just wrote down. Some days I will miss every opportunity to better myself or be helpful. Some days I will be a stark, raving hypocrite. Some days I'll drop the ball or run it into the other team's goal by mistake. Some days are better than others.

     by Russell Wait

Article from Streetvibes, the Cincinnati's Homeless Grapevine. It is a newspaper written by, for and about the homeless. It deals with social justice and poverty- related issues. It is published once a month, 12 issues a year, by the Greater Cincinnati Coalition for the Homeless. Vendors buy the paper for 20 cents (to cover printing costs) and then sell the paper for a dollar donation. The vendor keeps the profits. The Streetvibes Vendor Program gives our vendors an opportunity to get back on their feet. All Streetvibes vendors are given an orientation and sign a code of conduct before being given a badge. A case file is developed on each vendor so that they may track and help facilitate the vendor's move from poverty to self-sufficiency.