On Homelessness and How to Help

Hairpinner FinalGirl posted this in the comments of the “Invisible Child” blurb:

I work for a tiny domestic violence shelter in the Midwest; I thought I might speak to those folks wondering what they can do to help change things. (ETA: That got a lot more wordy and flail-y than I’d meant, but I think I’ll leave it be.)

Political help: Know your representatives and senators and city council, etc. Be familiar with who’s pushing for what, and why.

Know the numbers: Be prepared if you ever need to shoot down some dumb-ass argument (like “DID YOU KNOW that all those people on food stamps drive SUVs?? and similar nonsense).

And get to know your local stats: what’s the current homeless rate? What’s the breakdown for race, for substance abuse, etc? If your area is about evenly divided between X, Y, and Z groups, and group Y accounts for 60% of the homeless population, then what does that say?

Hands-on help: In terms of donations, I’d say wait ’til after the holidays. People get all donation-y and help-the-cause-like during the holidays. Call your local shelter and ask them: What can they use? (NOTE: They can always use cash donations, just for the record.) Do they, like us, always need OTC medications, socks and underwear, ground beef, milk?

Also, just in general, ask. What kinds of physical help do they need? Could they use someone to come through and clean regularly? Could you do it once every other week?

But most importantly, people who’re using shelters and associated resources are, in fact, people. They’re just people. They’re people who are smart, who make bad choices, who make great choices, who’re having a shitty day, who take out their bad moods on other people, who go out of their way to support someone who’s got it worse (someone ALWAYS has it worse), who care about the world, who don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves, who, who, who.

They’re us, in other words. And when you can, make sure to bring that up to people who want to talk shit about THE POORS. Someone who’s broke is still a person, not just another easy-to-forget faceless number.

Thank you, FinalGirl!