Hey Scott Taylor: I’m Sick of People Being Rude to Portland’s Homeless Residents

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Theresa Griffin-Kennedy, Guest MINDSETTER™

Photo credit: iStock

[Ed. Note} The following is a rebuttal (of sorts) to MINDSETTER Scott Taylor's piece, "I'm Sick of Portland Street Kids Getting a Free Lunch"

So, I'm in the local Safeway on Jefferson Street, in Southwest Portland a couple weeks ago and I notice a homeless man standing near the hot food counter, salivating over the warmed food items that are behind the counter.

You have to ask a worker for a tray in order to purchase the food, and its a good method, as it prevents stealing to some degree.

This homeless man stands off to the side, looking forlornly at the food but doesn't make any move to ask the worker for assistance. He's short, scruffy, dirty and wearing a hoodie. I've seen him countless times before. He's one of the long term homeless, having lived on the streets for nearly ten years.

I also know that he's mentally ill. I walk up to him and ask, quietly, “Are you hungry? Would you like a platter to take with you?” He smiles instantly, his eyes lighting up, so grateful I think he might cry. “That would be so great! Yes! Thank you!” He stands back, ingratiating himself and bowing slightly. “It's okay,” I tell him, “I know you're hungry.” I make a point of speaking softly, so as not to draw attention to the fact that he's homeless, penniless and receiving charity from a stranger.

Though I've given him spare change before several times, he doesn't' appear to remember me. But this no surprise, as he's mentally ill and often delusional.

By this time, I'm really hungry myself and all I want is to buy my own entrée. I've spent several hours in one of the computer labs on PSU campus writing and emailing various people, including looking for work as a creative writing instructor, for which I'm now qualified, having completed my masters degree last year. My stomach is grumbling though, I'm tired and my mouth is now salivating over the delicious looking hot food items. The Orange/sesame chicken looks particularly tender and enticing. But I know that he's in far worse shape than I am and so I make the small sacrifice of waiting a few more minutes.

As I order a platter of chicken and other delectables for the homeless man, who is also a resident of Portland, I notice another worker. She looks over at me with an indulgent, sad smile and our eyes lock. I know what she's saying to me, though she doesn't say a word. “Thank you.” I smile back and my eyes say, “You're welcome.”

Another man approaches me, one of the managers and says, “You know its against store policy for you to feed the homeless but I've never liked that rule anyway.” He laughs good naturedly. “Its good of you to do this. Have a good day Miss!” he says with a smile. I nod my head, smile and say nothing. The homeless man hears this and looks away embarrassed.

After I pay for the platter and hand it to the young man, he smiles and seems tongue-tied. He's able to manage, “This is gonna keep me for the whole day. Thanks so much! I was so hungry, I was starting to feel light headed.” He seems desperate to show his gratitude. “No problem” I tell him, “You take care now.”

From my vantage point, as I observe the man leave the store, I can see he's young, fit and able bodied. But I also understand he's mentally ill, and can often be seen talking to himself, with his heavy backpack as his only companion. I also know he has no life skills and has been homeless for years.

The homeless man I bought food for that day is an all too common reflection of many of the homeless people I encounter every day, on my way to town to run errands, or to look for work in the PSU computer labs. And he is part of an ever growing population in downtown Portland that often frustrates business owners and out-of-towners.

I've lived in Portland my whole life, since my parents moved my other siblings and I from Baker, Oregon to NW Portland in 1968, when I was 18 months old. Portland back in the late 60's, and all through the 70's and 80's was not the city it is today. It was low income and there were vagrants, drunks and child molesters roaming the streets in the lower “flats” of Northwest.

Several underage girls and young prostitutes in their early 20's went missing in Forest Park, to be found months later, rotted corpses. I knew it as a very dangerous place to live, growing up as a child there, but growing up in this environment also taught me about certain realities of life and I guess I've never forgotten those life lessons.

Some of those lessons include...

1.) The knowledge that there will always be homeless people living on the streets of Portland, no matter what.

2.) That a small percentage of these people will be predators, and criminals, but most will be the mentally ill who struggle to maintain their sanity amidst terrifying and dangerous odds.

3.) That if you cruelly reject a homeless person when they beg, you put yourself at risk. This involves scoffing in disgust or saying, “No, I have no money for you!” or the famous all around dehumanizing remark popular among so many, “GET A JOB!”

4.) That if you say in a respectful tone, as I often do when I have no money to give, “I'm sorry. I'm broke,” that they will be grateful that you acknowledged their humanity and did not reject them in a rude, impolite and heartless manner.

People can become very judgmental about the homeless of Portland Oregon, particularly the people who are not Natives to this great state. The people who come from other states, live here a few years and then mistakenly presume they understand all the complex social dynamics there are to know about the city of Portland and those who live here. But sometimes even our very own locals can become uncaring and unrealistic in their perceptions and/or expectations of the homeless.

Some of these individuals even think that certain factions of the homeless should be classified as street gangs, as Doreen Binder famously attempted to bully the Portland Police bureau into doing. PBB ultimately informed her of her mistake and has made the wise decision not to classify certain members of the homeless as “gang members.”

Some of these people think that a knock on the head or a good old-fashioned “Wood Shampoo” is all that the homeless in Portland need. That all it takes to contend with the complex social ills that produce homelessness is “a little tap from a hickory stick to get the point across.” And that this method will work because “...at some point, the police and the city need to get a little less tolerant and little more forceful in saying, “Enough is enough” with these kids and quality of life crimes.”

Perhaps these kinds of people, who see no reason to be forced to live with the homeless of Portland were sadly naive from the very beginning, when they relocated here. For the simple reason that the homeless of Portland are not a new population. They've been here for decades, all during my lifetime and from what I can tell, they're not going away any time soon.

Who are many of these homeless people you may wonder? Out-of-staters only?

No. Not by a long-shot.

Many of the homeless are from out of state but just as many, if not more, are lifetime residents of Portland Oregon, who cannot seem to move to warmer climates and prefer staying in their home state for whatever sentimental reason. Some of them are people I know. People I've known for decades. Some of them were kids I grew up with, kids I saw slowly sink over time, under the heavy burden and impossible weight of mental illness, chronic alcoholism and long-term drug addiction. Many of them are no longer alive now. They died. While Homeless. On the streets. Broke. Hungry. Cold.

I include the homeless as my fellow citizens in Portland. And I understand that most of them are not contending with simple bad luck. They're not just folks who have “fallen on hard times” but are in fact, dealing with complex, life and death issues that in many instances will destroy them and result in their early demise. They are continually turned away from mental health facilities, when they desperately need services. And the mental health services are routinely NOT funded by the city policy makers who handle the way the city money is spent.

These poor folks are often victims of the very system that is designed to protect and heal them. Furthermore, they are routinely not understood in the manner that they should be. The homeless in Portland have been here my whole life and I have come to learn from them and accept them as residents of my great city, Portland Oregon. I have also learned that they won't be leaving anytime soon for a whole multitude of valid reasons too complex to tackle here.

What offends me most about certain individuals in this city is their lack of true and detached understanding, coupled with compassion of the complex social dynamics that encompass the huge dilemma of homelessness and all that homelessness entails. These are Issues that often do not have an easy answer.

I don't appreciate the manner that these individuals recklessly disseminate stereotypes and the manner that they attempt to demonize those who have the least. The homeless. Of Portland, Oregon.

I guess what I'm saying is, I'm sick and tired of these people ruining my great city.

For more on issues of homelessness, please read my article from Street Roots, published in 2006.

Theresa Griffin-Kennedy is a social activist writer, confessional poet, creative writing instructor, and paints abstract mixed-media with collage. She is a lifetime resident of Portland and a die-hard Oregonian. She lives in Portland with her husband writer and retired police detective, Don DuPay.