There are a lot of homeless people in Chapel Hill. I don't want to see them.
I don't like hearing, "Can you spare some change?" every time I walk down Franklin Street. I hate those pangs of guilt every time I shake my head and hurry on to the nice restaurant or store where I am headed.
I don't want to think about the residents of the streets, huddled in blankets and trash bags on cold nights, looking dirty, haggard and exhausted. Why should I care about them anyway? If they are on the street, it is probably their fault. Why don't they just get a job?
It sounds so easy-just get a job. Except, what if it isn't so easy? The City of Durham says more than 2,500 people were homeless at some point last year. Eleven percent of them were homeless because of domestic violence; 10 percent have "severe and persistent" mental illness; 12.3 percent are over the age of 65; 17.2 percent are under the age of 18. Many adults do not have a high school diploma. Lots have been arrested at some point in their life. Who is going to hire all these people?
And what about those who do have jobs? In the last census, 28,557 Durham residents lived below the poverty line. That is almost 14 percent of the population. Yet, the unemployment rate in Durham is less than 4 percent. That means most poor people actually do work. "Go get a job" is not the answer.
Last year Durham joined 100 other cities around the country to launch "The 10 Year Plan to End Homelessness." On the city's website, Mayor Bill Bell writes that, "Solving the homeless problem in Durham is doable." The city will officially unveil its solution next month.
It is so easy to talk about the homeless and to throw out ideas for what to do about "them," but how much do we really know about the people living among us?
Last summer I was forced to take a crash course as I co-managed a homeless shelter in rural Mississippi.
More than 50 residents passed through our doors during my brief tenure, ranging in age from a premature, 2-day-old baby to a tremor-stricken old man. I tried to learn each person's story. They came from all backgrounds and from all across the country.
Michelle came with her two sons escaping an abusive husband. Until the abuse, she had always worked a stable job and lived in a nice house. Rosie, an elderly man, had walked all the way from California. Jonathan ran away from the carnival. Boyce was just released from a lengthy prison sentence.
One thing I learned is that there is no such thing as a typical story. It is so easy to generalize and stereotype the homeless, but such lumped categories do not even begin to capture the need and desperation of a huge part of our population. They do not all need the same thing; some need a lot of help to start their lives again from scratch while others need just a little training in how to budget money or apply for a job. Some may just need a few words of encouragement and a sympathetic ear.
Mayor Bell's plan is an exciting idea, but can we really end homelessness?
It's hard to say. We've certainly fought poverty before. Kennedy, Johnson and Clinton all made the same promise. The specifics of this new plan have not even been completely finalized, but it will not be the wording of the plan that determines its success or failure. The difference would have to be that we really buy into the goal this time-that we make the abstract plan a local effort and all become involved, instead of just rhetoric from our politicians.
Giving a quarter to the beggar on the street may not be the answer, but there are all sorts of opportunities to volunteer time, donate money, or even share what we learn in economics and public policy with local charities that are begging for ideas.
It is easy to forget that we live in Durham, but we actually do. The beggars on Franklin Street force me to remember they exist every day. Just because we do not let the homeless sleep in the Gothic Wonderland does not mean they are not around. We can change that though. Well, at least that is what the plan says.
David Fiocco is Trinity sophomore. His column runs every other Tuesday.
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