I hate it when I'm forced to face an ugly truth about myself. Happily, it doesn't happen often. I generally consider myself to be an open-minded, accepting person. I support every individual's right to live the life he or she wants to live provided it doesn't prevent others from doing the same. I don't have any particular prejudices of which I am aware against groups of people based on their ethnicity, sexual preferences, or any other differentiating feature. Although I am not religious, I like to think that I live my life according to the Golden Rule.
Our recent trip to Vancouver, however, slapped me in the face with an ugly truth about myself. I have an aversion to homeless people. I don't think my reaction toward the homeless would be better characterized as a prejudice or hatred; those words are too strong. I would just rather not have to be faced with their existence.
Yes, yes, I know that in many cases homelessness is no fault of the individuals. Economic problems, mental illnesses, or a myriad of other circumstances may have forced them into homelessness. I wish there were a way to ensure that no person ever had to live on the streets and beg for food.
But what I really wish is that they didn't beg from me.
"Excuse me, miss," the woman said as she approached Thane and I as we walked across a parking area overlooking the Vancouver waterfront. She looked at me and ignored Thane. We stopped and I stepped back so that I was slightly behind him. She looked to be in her 30s or 40s, a bit shorter than me, overweight in a soft, puffy way, with stringy brown hair and teeth nearly the same color.
"I'm in a lot of pain," she waved vaguely at her abdomen, "and I want to go to the hostel, but I can't afford to get there."
Thane pulled out his wallet. "It costs twenty dollars," she said. He handed her a $20 Canadian bill.
"Thank you! Can I give you a hug?"
At that point I turned away. There was no way I was giving this woman a hug. I just wanted to leave and get on with our evening.
I was shocked that Thane had given her so much money. He in turn was shocked that I was acting so stingy about helping someone in need. Since then, I've been thinking about what my problem really is, and I do consider it my problem
It's not as if I really think I'll be harmed in any way by a homeless person. I think it's just that I don't want to be forced to see the difference in our lots in life. The bottom line is that it makes me uncomfortable, and I don't want to be uncomfortable. So I turn away and ignore. If I can't see it, it doesn't exist, right?
No, that's not right.
My friend in Vancouver pointed out a sandwich shop that sells tokens for $2.50. A person can bring the token into the shop and get a good meal. The idea is that you can give a homeless person a meal rather than money that might get spent on drugs or alcohol. You can even buy tokens which are then given to the police to hand out to those in need.
On Facebook today, this same friend posted a story she'd seen about a coffee shop where patrons could buy "suspended" cups of coffee. Someone in need could then come in and ask for a suspended cup, and get a free cup to warm them up.
I love these ideas. I love the thought of being able to do something small to help others. I love that doing so doesn't require me to come into contact with the needy. I hate that about myself.
