What If The Homeless Disappeared?

don't let fear keep you from blessing your neighbors

San Francisco’s homelessness crisis is the worst I’ve ever seen. I try my best to be aware of how I present myself, understanding that presence matters and that as humans, we are all brothers and sisters. Yet, after living next to the Tenderloin and confronting its reality daily, I started to develop subconscious fears. I found myself instinctively crossing to the other side of the street, plugging my nose, and feeling a genuine fear for my life as if random strangers are really pressed about me and what I have going on.

Every time I feel that jolt of nervousness walking home at night or riding the bus, I catch myself imagining a different street. A street where there were no homeless people. Yes, it might smell less like piss. Yes, it might have less trash on the ground. Sure, I might feel more comfortable getting where I need to go, but was this city truly constructed for my comfort or even the comfort of the majority? God knows, the people I’m fearing don’t look comfortable.

Last night, I decided to go on a three-hour walk around 10pm, because I just had to get out of the house. I got on a bus where I saw a guy with torn-up Air Forces singing "Birds of a Feather" at the top of his lungs using a broken radio. I joined in quietly and it was fun! I also saw someone shaking like they’d just caught the holy ghost; it was deeply disturbing for everyone on the bus. They started chanting to themselves and twerking, appearing deeply under the influence of drugs or battling severe mental health demons. This person got close to my face, and I felt a surge of discomfort, so I stared at the ground wanting desperately to get off the bus. When I did, they started following me. I ran across the street, and they tried to follow, but I was blessed that the light changed and cars came downs separating us. See, I’m sort of street smart, lol... (hopefully my boyfriend never finds this essay). As I passed a gleaming Porsche dealership, I found a cardboard sign that simply said, "Please help!" I wondered if the person who sat holding that sign actually got the help they needed, or if they were still suffering.

In that moment, standing between the stark realities of immense wealth and poverty, the words of Tupac Shakur echoed in my mind:

“I see the ground is the symbol for the poor people; the poor people is gonna open up this whole world and swallow up the rich people, ’cause the rich people gonna be so fat, they gonna be so appetizing, you know what I’m saying, wealthy, appetizing. The poor gonna be so poor and hungry, you know what I’m saying? It’s gonna be like — there might be some cannibalism out this mother. They might eat the rich.” - Tupac Shakur

And seeing that sign, right there by the Porsches, it hit that this isn't just about comfort or discomfort while walking anymore. It's about a system that's pushing people to the very end of life, a system making them so 'poor and hungry' that the idea of them 'disappearing' isn't just a fear, it's a terrifying possibility if we keep letting this inequality divide grow even larger.

I thought again what the street would be like if all the homeless people simply disappeared. On the one hand, it’s because of people who let thoughts like mine win that the homeless might actually disappear from the streets—not into homes of their own, but into oblivion. Their feet, torn from walking shoeless for too long, might finally give out. Their bodies might collapse, with bellies too empty to sustain them. Their eyes might grow tired of watching cozy, empty, driverless cars glide by while they thirst for warmth. Their hearts might stop beating because people pass them by without exchanging a smile, without showing they are seen. Their very souls might die on the streets they call home.

Or, we can change our minds and turn that fear into genuine empathy. We can change our actions when we walk down the street. You can choose to say hello or goodnight. You can choose to offer a hug to someone who needs it. You can choose to buy someone a meal, because if you have a home, likelihood is you’ll be okay separating from $5-10 temporarily. Maybe then, the homeless can “go away” because they’ve found a roof and, most importantly, are seen by people who care.

Maybe then, you can take meaningful action to help someone. But not if fear keeps you glued to the other side of the street. In my generation, we tend to place a lot of blame onto governments and systems. But as guilty as those systems are for their lack of prioritization of humanity, equally guilty are we for not looking at the man in the mirror and recognizing the choices we can make every day that can either change a life or make someone’s day just a little bit better.

This one person in particular I met outside of Chatz coffee said that he hopes I never forget him. His name is Dwayne Rutherford, and I promised him I wouldn’t. Maybe we wouldn’t have met if I’d listened to the fear. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten to start his day with a warm coffee and pastry like the majority of people in San Francisco.

Has this radical immersion put me in some unsafe scenarios? Yes. Does it make me even more broke than I am? Yes, indeed. But at the same time, I am blessed to walk home to warmth, a roof, and food on the table. And honestly, you can't help but try to bless others in the ways you are blessed, even if that results in discomfort or exposure to risk. It could be you on that street, it could be you with no shoes, it could be your soul that’s dead. And if you know it could be you, why would you treat your neighbor any less than family?