Introspective Bullshit About One Month

Four months ago I didn't even really know the term "street kid". I didn't think anything of the bums on the sidewalk or kids lugging around backpacks and sleeping bags. I thought I lived in a liberal place that had wiped out segregation, racism and prejudice years ago. I've since learned I am very wrong.

I've been a “street kid” for a month now. Even so it feels like it's been a lot longer since I was “the new girl”. It's weird. I'm easily adaptable so it doesn't take me long to learn how to survive an unusual circumstance. People tell me all the time that they don't know how I do this or that they think they would not make it if they were in my shoes. All I can say is that if you were in the situation you'd survive too. You'd be amazed at what you're capable of when your life depends on it.

Humans are resilient. Every time you think you may not make it through some horrible circumstance or that you will never feel happy again you find that you do survive and happiness comes back around. You may be a different person by the end of it but you'll still be alive.

I have too much to live for to consider giving up. I can't fall into the trap of street life or drugs or any of this. It wouldn't just hurt me if I did. I'd be hurting all of my friends that have been supporting me and investing in me. I would be hurting my darling kitten Spencer. I'd be hurting the other street kids I try to look out for. I'd be giving The Womb a clean slate she doesn't deserve. Upchuck would win. I cannot give in.

If it weren't for my friendships I wouldn't be here. My friends tell me daily that I need to focus on myself first but if they lived that way I wouldn't still be standing. My friends have been so selfless and compassionate; I am amazed at how they treat even total strangers. They do this knowing that I will probably never be able to pay them back. They do this not even knowing the names of the kids that they are helping.

My bunny friend has teamed with her mother to get a care package for me. She asked me for a list of needs and wants so I sent her quite the extensive one of both things for myself and things for the other street kids. She emailed me later saying that she got her mother on board and they will be sending a package of things they already had around their house as well as some new things they are buying even though money is tight. Her mother works in the NICU and said that she will send medical supplies for emergencies. They know a lot of these things will be going to complete strangers.

My sleepy friend sent me a comfort care package. Those coffee candies he sent are so orgasmic I save them only for special occasions. I'm now addicted to the show "The Walking Dead" and the video games help keep me nostalgic and entertained. Spock ensures I get a verbal lashing when I'm being too damn stupid for my own good and let my body go all drama queen.

And those are just my friends out of state.

Savior Man consistently goes above and beyond, not only for me but for my friends on the street. Every time I ask him for help I feel bad and every time he says, “I'm happy to help.” When I asked him to help my Kitten Lady friend he told me, “A friend of a friend is a friend to me.”

Only two friends in the area know where I'm living. I really only go to see Savior Man. I feel so bad sometimes when I ignore calls or intentionally isolate myself by making excuses or not responding to people. I'm just embarrassed and I don't want to burden people or be pitied. At least my friends out of state don't physically see how I'm living. 

I have a friend, Jelly Bean, who actually started an organization to help homeless people. She is the sweetest person I know and that is no exaggeration. She was messaging me about hanging out for awhile but I kept putting it off until she gave up. I know she would respond with nothing but compassion but I still cannot bring myself to tell her where I am or why. 

I wonder sometimes about what would happen if all my friends knew. Would I be able to do more/help more with more support behind me or would I end up being judged and ridiculed? I don't want to pretend I understand what it's like to be in the LGBQT community but this is my own coming out of sorts. My friends know so little about me when I think about it. I still wish I had the courage to come clean to the ones like Jelly Bean.

Then again that would be one more person saying, “Take care of yourself.”

Even with all the wonderful support I have it's still a difficult lifestyle. It's so exhausting. I feel I'm whiny and redundant on this but I have no idea how to convey how tiring this is. Sometimes I wonder if all the fights that happen are due to exhaustion rather than immaturity or drug use.

I don't think it's possible to be lower on the totem pole in human life than to be homeless. I'm no stranger to the idea that people can be cruel but this is a different form of cruelty. We aren't even seen as human. A few days ago I sat on the ground to tie my shoe while I was waiting for the max. Some guy walking down the sidewalk simply stepped over my leg with his nose in the air as if I was just a piece of garbage. He looked smug about it too; proud that he made sure I knew what he thought of me.

Cops harass us. Segregation exists. If you don't believe me look at all the signs on buildings in downtown saying “no sitting or laying here” or “No public restroom” or “Paying customers only” “Police enforced.” I'm not saying businesses don't have a right to how they conduct their business; I'm just saying they are pretty damn aggressive at kicking us out. There are laws so silly no one else thinks about but they are targeted at us like not being able to use a blanket when you nap at waterfront because that is considered “camping”. Or the sit/lie ordnance which has been ruled unconstitutional but some officers still try to enforce. (For those outside of Portland it was a law made banning homeless people from sitting on the ground. They literally made it illegal to sit down).

We are accused of stealing for just going into a gas station. People stare. They walk past us like we are invisible. Shelter staff bully us. We are illegal. Guilty until proven innocent.

Yet, the degrading things people do are not the things I remember. What I remember are the acts of kindness that happen every day. In these circumstances not even the smallest act of compassion goes unnoticed.

The other day while in line at Whole Foods another register opened. The old man behind me let me go first even though he could beat me to it. Once, when we still had Tailia, Kitten Lady and I went into the McDonald's bathroom to clean up. A woman came in and asked about the kitten and how old she was. She asked if the kitten did okay sleeping outside. She talked to us like equals, real human beings, even though she knew what we are. She didn't judge us for keeping a kitten while we were homeless.

After Tailia was attacked by the pit-bull and we were taking her to the vet it started pouring down rain. Someone pulled over by the bus stop where we were waiting and brought us out umbrellas before getting back into his car and driving off again without even giving us his name. I was left speechless at this as I had been trying to calm down Kitten Momma so that she didn't stress Tailia out more. When that young man handed us the umbrellas we were both moved at his kindness and relieved we could keep Baby Girl dry.

Mother Goose gave me a blanket and Beard Man found me a place to sleep. My uncle sends me money and my friends are the most amazing people on the planet. If I don't post they check up on me so I know people care. I am so, so, so blessed. My needs are met. I feel cared about. That's more than most in shelter can say.

I believe that most people are neither good or bad but various mixtures of both. We all have our faults, scars, the great parts and the not so great parts. It's okay to have imperfections because they make us all the more varied and beautiful. If we were all perfect and flawless it would be a very boring life. There's something worthwhile about overcoming the most difficult places. It keeps life interesting.

Even with the abuses from people who will never understand our lives I retain my hope in humanity as I consistently see street kids rise above the hate and discrimination. It's not easy to make the choice to be the better person when people treat you like the gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. We don't always meet that challenge but sometimes we do.

You'd never guess it but even street kids dream. Even Pot Head hopes to grow up and be successful someday. Those tortured by addiction dream of getting clean. Mothers dream of holding their children again. I think we all dream of having a “home” again someday. We just keep our dreams locked away where only we can touch them so they don't become tainted.

One month has changed so much in me. I used to think racism no longer existed but I've watched as the black boys have been profiled time and time again. I thought segregation died in the '60s. It hasn't. Maybe it's not as explicit but we are segregated based off of economical bias. Homeless people are banned from so many places I couldn't even begin to list them. Even if it's not stated by signs or laws we are harassed until we leave. Police are called on us for things as small as buying candy bars. Children are taught to look away. We are banned from grocery stores, bathrooms, restaurants, churches, malls, movies, convenience stores, parks. I'm not saying all these things should be free but I am saying it's kept separated from us as we are not seen as part of society. It may not be racism but it is prejudice. It is hate.

I used to think that people who kept their animals with them on the streets were cruel. I no longer believe this. Often homeless pets are better taken care of than their owners. Plus, it gives people something to live for and prevents the animals from being killed in overflowing shelters.

Homeless kids are neither stupid or lazy. We don't get to sleep on real beds or pillows. We never get to sleep in or nap. Even though we are prone to sickness in crowded quarters and consistent exposure to the elements we don't get a place to rest even if we are sick. The best you get is an office floor. Sleeping in shelter is loud, hard, and stressful. Even when we are perfectly healthy and happy we are tired and drained.

Tempers run hot. Mental illness is rampant in street kids. Just about everyone has depression which should come as no surprise. Then there's kids like Vampire Girl who has mood swings so rapid not even a jack rabbit could keep up with her or the girl in the big dorm who talks to herself all night long. We have a guy with split personality disorder and a shit ton of bipolar kids.

Boys by far out number the girls. Gays and transgenders have a strong presence in our population as well. I'd say 75% of shelter does some form of drug other than booze or pot. They are addicted to meth, heroin, cocaine; take your pick. Probably 90% at least indulge in pot and alcohol. 

It's not a great life. I do not think anyone is really happy with it, even those that live outside willingly. We are riddled with scars whether they be caused by needles, razor blades, or the hands of someone else. It doesn't matter where they came from. All scars run deep.  

--mm

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” --Kahlil Gibran