I used to joke that majoring in philosophy gave me excellent training to become a waitress; however, despite the lack of employers clamoring for philosophy majors, I have found that having this background has given me some of the tools I need to do outreach work.
Recently, another man was shot on Mission in front of one of our SRO’s; as I was walking down the street I saw his curbside memorial: candles, pictures, and notes from friends expressing their loss of someone they loved. I stared hard at his face trying to understand how this man could be both a loved member of his community, and beat one of my clients so badly that she’s missing part of her skull. I stood there contemplating the ambiguous nature of humanity, how we can incorporate both good and evil, grieving for his friends, but not grieving for the man who has most likely given a women I have known for years a slow death sentence.
This woman, once spirited and clever, now has difficulty stringing together a sentence or collecting her thoughts. She has brain damage in a world where all of your wits are necessary for survival. We tried to connect her to services by getting her a bed at a shelter, but the next day I saw her back on the streets. I asked her if I could bring her back to the shelter, and she looked at me dejectedly and apologized, telling me that the shelter has a curfew and she can’t stay there and also make money as a sex worker. These sorts of catch-22′s are common, we’ll give you a place to stay, but then you won’t have any money. Getting connected to SSI or GA takes time and paperwork, something difficult even for people who don’t have a chaotic lifestyle and mental disability. At that moment I felt so impotent, I wanted to break all the boundaries, give her money, buy her cigarettes, whatever means necessary to get her help. In the end I knew it wouldn’t make things better, but leaving her there felt like leaving her there to die. That was a few months ago, she’s still alive, but we’re all wondering for how long.
These kinds of situations are common in outreach work, and getting more common the longer I stay here and get to know my clients better. Sometimes I yearn for work that is more black and white, less likely to keep me up at night wondering why. Humanity is messy; the more money and resources you have the more you can clean up the messiness or hide it, but folks on the streets, or in these hotels, don’t have that luxury. Sometimes it feels like touching the bare soul of humanity, which is a humbling feeling, both terrible and beautiful.
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