Claire Martin
Craig's Place Staff
I have a memory of myself as a child, sitting in the
passenger seat of my mother’s car, looking out the window at some new
construction being built as we drove by. It was becoming a huge gray building,
rectangular in shape, and impressive in size. As we drove past it, I said to my
mother, “That should be a homeless shelter.” I’m not sure how I was even aware
of the concept of homelessness given my very sheltered world – perhaps a movie
on TV, or a story in the news, but I remember this interaction specifically
because of my mother’s reaction to it – she laughed.
It took me years to understand why she thought my suggestion
was so funny. I saw a big empty
building, a spacious place where there could be beds, and tables of food. It
seemed perfectly logical to me at the time.
What I didn’t know is that our society’s attitude toward the
problem of homelessness was very unlike my childlike view. There is a near
unshakable belief in our minds that those who suffer without a home are a
product of their own poor judgment in life, and homelessness is a kind of
societal penalty that is well deserved.
Craig’s Place is a wet shelter. If you are not familiar with
the term, it simply means that we do not require our guests to be “dry” and
sober upon entry. We meet you where you are in life. We sign everybody in, wand
everybody, and search for contraband (alcohol, needles, weapons etc.). We lock
away any and all contraband found for the night, and our guests’ possessions
are returned to them upon departure. Many people do not understand the purpose
of a wet shelter, sometimes thinking that we should put a greater emphasis on
rehabilitated behavior. However our function
is far simpler than that. We are an EMERGENCY shelter. Our intake is based on
vulnerability and need. In other words, we do not believe that because a person
is an addict, that person deserves to die in the cold when we have the services
to prevent it.
The scrutiny upon our guests is palpable. How many times have
we heard in reference to them, “They should just get a job,” their stories are
boiled down to the nearest available prejudice. Why can’t they just get a job?
Why can’t their families help them? Why should we support these people at all,
when they should be able to take care of themselves, if they only really wanted
to? Why ask for grants and public support? I find the latter is especially what
people tend to be “concerned” with – that we could be wasting valuable money on
people who don’t deserve it.
Because you see, homeless shelters don’t generate revenue.
I think its easy for us to demonize the homeless because we
like to think that we could never be in a similar situation ourselves. The very
thought of descending to a level where, safety, privacy and cleanliness become
unattainable scares us to our very core. As it is, we have a tendency to forget
that most of us are doing as well as we are because we have had people to help
us, to house and clothe us, to give us a ride to school or work, to give us
recommendations and second chances, and access to medical care. But I promise
you, among all of us that have managed to procure these things, there are
addicts, there are criminals, there are the mentally ill. The only difference
is, they have a home.
You and I have a place to go at night, a place to wake up
warm every morning, closets to keep our clothes pressed, laundry facilities to
keep them clean. We can take showers whenever we want, we can wake up every
morning and present whatever kind of face we want to the world outside. Our
walls, our privacy, our autonomy... allows us these options. It isn’t that we
are devoid of faults and habits that are shameful – its that we can hide them.
It is often said that you never really know someone until you
live with them. After all, that’s when the bad habits come out. But beyond
that, the world has to assume we are who we say we are, barring further
evidence to the contrary. Walls are very forgiving, but people aren’t. And
against a clear background, our sins are laid bare for the world to see,
scrutinize, and ultimately condemn us. There is nowhere to hide. It isn’t that
the homeless are less moral or deserving than anyone else, its that when they
do struggle, everyone can see.
At one point in my life, when I was 18, I found myself
pregnant, homeless from fleeing a turbulent relationship, and having moved
south, I was far from familial support. I called my mother for help, and she
suggested that I sleep in my car. This I did, luckily only for a night or two,
as some kind friends eventually intervened. But I often think back to those
days and wonder, would I be where I am now if my housing situation remained in
a state of impermanence? Would the situation
have played out as well as it did in the end? Would I even have survived it? We
all would like to believe that these are the kinds of situations that only
happen to other people, that we ourselves are too far from the reach of
desperation’s grip. But the truth is, this population is full of You’s and
Me’s. It’s a reflection of our society; a doppelganger for every type. And I
feel that if more people would be open to visiting us, they might get to meet
theirs, and possibly see Craig’s Place – and themselves – in a different light.
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