Assumptions about camp out wrong
Mark Green
Issue date: 11/16/09 Section: Opinion
I spent a summer selling alarm systems door-to-door near the San Francisco Bay area, and in the many hours I spent sitting in parks when I should have been working, I met a fair amount of homeless people.
The conversations we had usually began with one of us asking the other for a cigarette. Yes, I am not too proud to admit I have bummed a smoke from a homeless person on more than one occasion. Being a naturally curious guy who loves to meet new people, I usually tried to work the conversation around to how they ended up becoming homeless. I was surprised to find that many of them claimed they could have homes if they wished, but chose to be homeless. Others had heartbreaking stories that ultimately ended with them alone and cold on the streets.
Through these conversations I learned to respect the homeless and everything they go through to survive on a daily basis. So when I heard the announcements for Dixie State College's first-ever cardboard camp out for Poverty Awareness Week, I was deeply troubled.
The whole idea struck me as insulting, stereotypical and a little bit ignorant. I turned to some of the other staff members and asked, "Isn't that kind of like holding a "cross the border illegally" obstacle course for Hispanic Culture Awareness Month?"
Following an offhand comment about writing a column about how ridiculous the whole event was, I found myself roped into attending the event so I could write objectively about the issue rather than rant about the insensitive people who were in charge of the camp out.
I'm glad I went. I found myself grumbling as I got out of my car and walked out into the freezing night air with my voice recorder and notepad, determined to prove my theory true, get some funny quotes, and write a comedic account of the whole enterprise.
I half expected to see people roasting hot dogs over trash can fires or playing some sort of game involving rummaging through trash to find Snickers bars, and maybe even a few people dressed extra shabby in imitation of stereotypical bums. Instead I saw seven to 10 cardboard shelters ranging from single box units to massive mansions made from huge piles of cardboard. People were standing around in the cold while a band warmed up out front. I started to interview people, looking hard for the cavalier attitudes I expected. I didn't find them. Instead people told me they were here to help a good cause, to gain a small appreciation of what being homeless means on a cold night, and of course, to build cardboard forts. Despite the cold temperatures and wet muddy ground, students, around 160 attended, seemed eager to be involved.
The conversations we had usually began with one of us asking the other for a cigarette. Yes, I am not too proud to admit I have bummed a smoke from a homeless person on more than one occasion. Being a naturally curious guy who loves to meet new people, I usually tried to work the conversation around to how they ended up becoming homeless. I was surprised to find that many of them claimed they could have homes if they wished, but chose to be homeless. Others had heartbreaking stories that ultimately ended with them alone and cold on the streets.
Through these conversations I learned to respect the homeless and everything they go through to survive on a daily basis. So when I heard the announcements for Dixie State College's first-ever cardboard camp out for Poverty Awareness Week, I was deeply troubled.
The whole idea struck me as insulting, stereotypical and a little bit ignorant. I turned to some of the other staff members and asked, "Isn't that kind of like holding a "cross the border illegally" obstacle course for Hispanic Culture Awareness Month?"
Following an offhand comment about writing a column about how ridiculous the whole event was, I found myself roped into attending the event so I could write objectively about the issue rather than rant about the insensitive people who were in charge of the camp out.
I'm glad I went. I found myself grumbling as I got out of my car and walked out into the freezing night air with my voice recorder and notepad, determined to prove my theory true, get some funny quotes, and write a comedic account of the whole enterprise.
I half expected to see people roasting hot dogs over trash can fires or playing some sort of game involving rummaging through trash to find Snickers bars, and maybe even a few people dressed extra shabby in imitation of stereotypical bums. Instead I saw seven to 10 cardboard shelters ranging from single box units to massive mansions made from huge piles of cardboard. People were standing around in the cold while a band warmed up out front. I started to interview people, looking hard for the cavalier attitudes I expected. I didn't find them. Instead people told me they were here to help a good cause, to gain a small appreciation of what being homeless means on a cold night, and of course, to build cardboard forts. Despite the cold temperatures and wet muddy ground, students, around 160 attended, seemed eager to be involved.
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