by Rosa Blackwell

Created on: March 23, 2009

I buy food for homeless people.

It requires me to stop, bend down, and talk. I do it at least once a week, and I often have to talk myself into it not because I don't
want to help, but putting in the effort to talk to someone I would otherwise ignore is more difficult for me than spending ten dollars on food. Arguably, I could call 311 instead and have them encourage the person to take refuge in the shelter system. I used to do that, and felt like I was doing my part to help; it wasn't my job to get people off the streets, right? Calling was more than enough help. But, after having friends more than one go through that system and experience physical assault and prison-like housing arrangements I'd prefer to give food and a little conversation. It's a more hands-on approach that

doesn't leave either side feeling dehumanized, and that's the point of helping out our fellow man, isn't it?

But why bother in the first place? To my mind, homeless people are relatively easy to help because their needs are often straightforward (food, shelter, etc.). Even though I don't have extra shelter or much money, I know I can spare enough of my resources to at least meet the food requirement, and upon doing so I get the satisfaction of not only meeting a physical need (nutrition) but an emotional and social one as well (companionship) which makes the effort more than worthwhile. At the heart of it, though, I take care of homeless people in this way because it's just plain responsible.

I know at least two things about homeless people: they're
ignored more often than not, and the shelter system in New York City is awful. For me, responsibility is about negotiating those difficulties to come up with the best result. In this case, it's offering food and a little to fellowship to someone on the street. Not because I'm a saint. Not because I think I'm better than the shelter system. But, in the end, they're people, too. I could easily be in their shoes, and it makes no sense to me to pass by someone who could very well be me when I could just as easily stop and help.

That sounds selfish, in a way, and it is: I desire to be more than a ghost passing through this life. I want to reach out and touch and matter to this world. But, in the wider scheme of things, reaching out to just one person changes the world because the world, for that one person, becomes a better place.

Not just because of the food. Because I'm treating the homeless as fellow human beings. I like to think that getting to know them a little, even in the tiny amount of conversation that we have, helps give them their dignity back. As I see them every week we talk a little more. Sometimes they take the food; sometimes, they just want to talk. Either way, we talk. We smile, we laugh. We have inside jokes (bananas!). My little act of responsibility is repaid by their friendship and kindness, and at the end of the day I'm happy that I was able to reach out to someone in a way that really mattered.

Oh, one other thing that buying food for homeless people requires: I have to care. So, until I find an organization that puts people directly into subsidized housing, I'll keep at it. Even if I'm only feeding them once a week. It's my way of making the world a little bit better, and that's
what responsibility's all about: doing the best you can with what you've got.

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