When there’s nowhere to go

I wrote about the guys on the block (and more) for the News & Record: “When there’s nowhere to go,” by Michele Forrest; published Sunday, Nov. 1, 2009.  It’s online here, and reposted below:

On the block. Image credit: Michele Forrest / ChosenFast.com

My ministry partner, Audrie Keen, and I provide a street outreach to the homeless in Greensboro, and we’ve made a lot of friends along the way. We eat together, go to church together and have cookouts. Sometimes our homeless friends stay with us. We visit formerly homeless friends in their homes.

When we say “homeless friends,” we really mean friends.

Two Friday mornings ago, we visited “The Block” at Lee and South Eugene streets. It had been 11 days since my last visit, when we’d talked about the artistic bench installed, then removed, from along the new stretch of the Downtown Greenway in that area. Neighbors said the bench attracted drug addicts and prostitutes.

The guys on The Block dismissed that notion. One said: “The problem is not as serious as they say it is on the news. And the bench has nothing to do with it.”

We’d also talked about how the removal of the bench had turned attention to The Block, which a reporter described as “a magnet for loitering, drugs and prostitution” (News & Record, Oct. 10). But the guys said there were no drugs or prostitutes. A friend who catches a bus near The Block agreed, explaining, “The last place prostitutes want to be is around a bunch of broke people. Drug dealers, too.”

The guys had heard the talk about cleaning up The Block, and they found it to be hypocritical. Speaking of the city’s elite, whom they believed to be behind efforts to clear the block, one man said: “They sit outside on the sidewalks and drink wine. But they don’t want to see us out here on the corner drinking ours.”

Another said, “About 50 of us should save up our money and go drink downtown with them at the sidewalk cafes. They’ll be voting for us to go back to Eugene. Get us some tables and chairs out here, too.”

We had all gotten a laugh out of that, but the day after that visit, things changed.

Zero tolerance

In response to a meeting between residents and Guilford County commissioners Chairman Melvin “Skip” Alston, police Chief Tim Bellamy instituted a zero-tolerance policy on loitering, and officers stepped up patrols.

So, when Audrie and I arrived for street outreach two Fridays ago, we were surprised to see guys on The Block. They weren’t laughing now.

The police hadn’t chased them off yet, they said.

“I don’t have a job, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs,” Mitchell Wall said. “This is the only spot I can come to get work. I understand them making you leave if you’re doing wrong, but why make you leave if you’re trying to better yourself?”

A gray-haired gentleman told Audrie and me that The Block has been a spot for day laborers seeking work since 1959, when it was called “Five Points.”

On this Friday morning, 19 men waited nervously, hoping to be picked up for jobs before the police came and moved them away. One man even had packed a lunch, hoping he’d be working and not at the nearby soup kitchen at lunchtime.

“I used to make a living from right here,” Milton Williams said. “I was homeless. But I was able to pay for my room. I don’t know how I’m gonna do that now. I haven’t caught a job since they put my picture in the paper. I had no idea they were doing that.

“They take your picture but they don’t talk to you. The paper never says anything good about us. None of us are drinking and drugging.”

Kindnesses from cops

As he finished speaking, a patrol car pulled up. The officer began loudly instructing everyone to leave. The guys started to argue, but the officer said, “I’m just doing my job.” They said they were just trying to find a job.

An employee at the Fastmart on the corner, who was visibly upset, came out to talk to the officer. She complained that the guys were scaring away customers.

They hadn’t scared us away, but seeing all those men yelling in anger, I got her point, even as I understood their frustration.

Audrie and I could see everyone’s perspective, but that wasn’t helping the guys on The Block. They had to leave.

The employee went back into the store. The officer got back into his car and pulled away.

We thought about all of the officers we know who balance enforcement and assistance: A sheriff’s deputy who had to evict a homeless man from a barn, but then, with shelters full, spent hours finding him a place to stay. Police officers who organized a collection box for blankets, hats and gloves, then gave them to the homeless in winter. An officer who took boots to men at a homeless camp. An officer who moved furniture into the apartment of a chronically homeless man who finally got a housing voucher. The officers who served alongside us when we fed the homeless. The officer who found a woman drinking in the park and helped her get into rehab.

Everyone knows that cops enforce the law, but Audrie and I know that the Greensboro Police Department also does a lot to “protect and serve” our homeless friends. Having to move people off The Block knowing they have no place else to go — that can’t be an easy job.

Day center will help

I talked to one of the officers who works the area. He’ll be glad when the new day center opens downtown. Me, too. One of our friends on The Block talked about the sense of community and camaraderie there. I believe that the day center will provide that as well.

And the day center can become the new place for employers to come looking for day laborers. It can also be a place where those who drank on The Block can come and find community, support and resources to begin the road to recovery.

After our visit to The Block, Audrie and I headed toward the Freeman Mill homeless camps, whose residents soon will be displaced by more greenway construction. One of our friends there is a homeless woman in a wheelchair. I thought about what one of the guys had said during my last trip to The Block: “Handicapped people living in the woods, and they’re worried about people drinking on The Block?”

Ironic, isn’t it? I guess the folks at Freeman Mill will be moved along soon, too.

Most people assume that there are enough shelters and housing programs to house the homeless, and that mental-health and substance-abuse treatment is available.

The truth? Demand greatly exceeds supply. That’s why people sleep in those camps downtown. And why some of those guys sat on The Block and drank all day.

As the greenway winds its way through areas of downtown that most folks don’t see, some harsh realities are being revealed.

And some friends of mine are asking themselves: Where do you go when there’s nowhere to go?

WHY CARE?

“Why do you do what you do?”

I follow Jesus, and He says to care for the poor, homeless and hungry.

It’s not a suggestion.

He says that when we care for “the least of these,” we’re caring for Him. I tell people, “You want to see Jesus? Go to the street. You’ll find Him there. I did.”

I have struggles in my own life — chronic, often debilitating depression, attention deficit disorder, a spinal injury and a digestive disorder — so I understand what it’s like to live with pain and limitations.

I’m a single mom, and without the support of family, I myself might have been homeless.

My own experiences give me a greater sense of urgency to reach out to those in need.  My income says I’m poor, but my life says I’m rich — I have a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear, health coverage and supportive family and friends.

Not everybody has that. I want to pass on the blessings in any way I’m able.

I love to do street outreach, to visit people “flying” signs on corners, to go see friends living in homeless camps. I like to feed people, to pray with people, to listen and laugh and cry with people. I like to bring things that people need, like blankets, boots, socks, tents, etc. I like to help people find resources to get the long-term assistance they need to end their homelessness.

But I get the better end of the deal. I’ve met the strongest, smartest, wisest, most resourceful, creative, generous, faith-filled people living outside in Greensboro. They’ve taught me, encouraged me, prayed for me and blessed me beyond measure.

This is why I do what I do. And I’m thankful for every day that God keeps allowing me to do it.

Michele Forrest of Greensboro operates a homeless outreach and blogs about homelessness at Chosenfast.com