I want to talk about the people that we avoid talking about. The people we avoid making eye contact with when we’re at a stop light or walking down the street.
Homeless people are painfully visible, especially in Baltimore, but when we see them what can we do? We might give them some money, offer to buy them food, or avoid eye contact and ignore them completely. It’s jarring, to see someone in need of help and nothing being done. To see people pass by and ignore them. To feel unable to do anything, or even like they don’t deserve any help to begin with. I think about the ways we make sense of the homeless in order to carry on with our days and avoid that feeling in the back of our minds— that something is seriously wrong, that things should not be this way. I feel enormously guilty of my position in society, one that I came into out of sheer luck, and honestly a string of bad circumstances could find me or anyone without a home. Homeless people are left economically disenfranchised by society, but there is a moral stigma attached to homelessness, as if existing as such is a punishment one deserves for personal failings. I can’t generalize why people are homeless, but I don’t think that anyone deserves to be left on the fringes of society like that. The problem is I really don’t know what to do. It’s such a large problem and I feel so small in comparison. I guess the best I can do is try to help the people I see in my daily life, but I want to do more than that. I don’t think that anyone should be homeless.
Unruly Bodies 
It’s interesting how homelessness is so visible, yet it’s ignored and swept under the rug so often. Seeing someone on the streets is a bodily reminder of the contingency of wealth; we can all be in the same position, and it makes people anxious or upset. In regards to the feeling of helplessness, I really understand where you’re coming from. From a personal standpoint, you have to remember that it’s a systemic thing, so you’re limited in what you can do. The small progress of activism is all you can really hope for.
I agree with you. Morally my heart strings were tugged on every single time I saw a homeless person. But a few months ago I saw a homeless man outside of walgreens who smelled of liquor and his speech was slurred. He asked my name and drew it on a piece of paper with a marker. he first asked me for a dollar to get a hot dog then to get on the bus. I said I will do him one better. I went into walgreens and bought him White chocolate covered pretzels(MY FAVORITE) and some juice. I gave it to him and he shrugged me off. I was like “Whatever as long as I did something good” I got back into my boy’s car and while he was starting the car and playing some music. I SAW THIS MAN THROW THE FOODS I BOUGHT HIM AWAY. I was so angry. I understand that it is not fair to judge everyone for one person’s doing but I no longer go the EXTRA mile. If I don’t have it to spare I shoot them a “sorry I don’t have it on me” and keep going.
I commute through Baltimore City every day and I swear I see the same people on the same corners. When I’m coming home on my usual route, I see the same homeless man at this particular red light, and consequently, I always find myself stuck there. When he first started coming to my window I’d give him the little bit of change I had, but I am not one to always carry food or cash with me… This red light stop became an everyday thing and the same man kept coming to my window, I felt bad but time and time again I had nothing. It got to the point where he said “Wow, you are the stingiest woman I have ever known”… I felt bad and slightly mad, but shook it off. How dare this man call me stingy? Its sad when you think about it. The frustration and hunger that comes with being homeless… Thanks for posting about this!
I remember a couple of years ago I had to read a series of articles for an essay and there was one article in particular addressing homelessness, but it was actually kind of sickening the way the journalist had been talking about these people. It really highlighted the wealth disparity and privilege disparity between the writer and these people, that he would dehumanize them in his writing. Zero empathy.