 Herman Thunder Hawk, homeless advocate, speaks at the 2003 Homeless Memorial Day. | The Magazine Winter 2004 A publication of The Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless NASNA member 907 Logan Avenue Cheyenne, WY 82001-5247 307-634-8499 fax: 307-634-9089 © 2003 email: wch@vcn.com |
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StreetViews, the Magazine is published by the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless In my stints at various homeless agencies I was often bewildered by the staff's refusal to understand their clients. Most social workers and administrators had very narrow stereotypes about "homeless people". Usually these were unconscious middle class prejudices. Sometimes they were religious prejudices. Occasionally they were the rigid assumptions of a formerly homeless person who assumed that all homeless people were "just like him". The truth is that homeless people are incredibly varied. It is very difficult to pigeon hole such individuals. While some do fit the alcoholic, unemployed, "undereducated" stereotype.... and many are miserable and desperately want to work, this is not the case for a large segment of folks. The "chronically" homeless, in particular, will never respond to the tired middle class assumptions that they must get a job and an apartment. Many do not want a job.... and some don't even want an apartment. Some are voluntarily nomadic. I'm currently one of those "voluntary nomads" and I know many more. As such, I understand many homeless people's aversion to work. And while social workers may not like that attitude, or "approve" of it, they must at least learn to accept that it exists. Here's something I wrote for a friend in order to explain that attitude: by Skald My first job was at Arby's.... I got it one summer between my sophomore and junior year in High School. I wanted some spending money, plus my parents were on my back to get a job. They had the idea that work would make me more responsible! From the very first day I knew something was amiss. Suddenly, the gloriously languid freedom of childhood summers came to an end. I was treated as a slave: bossed around, forced to wear a humiliating uniform, saddled with an oppressive schedule. I had to ask permission to eat or to use the bathroom. Customers treated me like a servant. They were rude and condescending. The bosses were worse. They were petty, stupid, and vulgar. They tried to compensate for their wasted and miserable lives by setting themselves up as petty dictators of the state of Arby's. They delighted in giving orders. They never said please. Every manager was trained in the same techniques: the s! sneer, the annoyed grumble, the squinty gaze. Perhaps they took classes. Every day I returned home smelling of beef fat and vegetable oil. My hands were sticky with grease and milk shake syrup. My feet ached and my back hurt. My clothes were filthy. I was tired and pissed off. Occasionally I wanted a day off... to go to a concert with friends or to just relax. I had to fill out a "time off request", and no matter how far in advance I did this, the fat-ass managers always scheduled me for that day. I can remember the gnawing sense of desperation I felt whenever friends visited me at the restaurant. I felt like a caged animal... desperate to be free. If only I could have chewed my arm off and fled! Eventually, I did escape. When school started back up I was frenzied.... I yearned for freedom. My parents were hyper sensitive about my grades-- always insistent that I make nothing but As and Bs. I told them I couldn't work and continue to study, that the strain was! just too great....that I was afraid a job would lead me to bad grades, a black eye on my "permanent record" (whatever the fuck that is), and a long horrid life of unemployment and homelessness. My parents relented (never suspecting that someday I would choose a life of unemployment and nomadism- despite a damned fine permanent record!). And so I escaped employment for a while. But that experience began a lifelong hate-affair with jobs that continues to this day. Right away I sensed the Enemy-- the horrible theft of my freedom and autonomy that employment represented. I felt the degradation and humiliation. I saw the petty power hunger of bosses, all bosses. I understood, viscerally, the whole slimy enterprise that is "work". Since then, I've had many jobs... mcjobs, student jobs, part-time jobs, office jobs, labor jobs, full-time jobs, professional jobs, management jobs, corporate jobs, non-profit jobs..... and every one of them has confirmed the realizations of that! first one. "Work", as Hakim Bey once wrote, "is the precise target of my rebellious wrath". It is the primary thief of our dignity, freedom, and autonomy. It is the corruptor of our ideals... the killer of our enthusiasm.... the yoke around our necks. Jack Kerouac was right, 'the problem with "work" (jobs) is that you are always doing someone else's.' My work, my true vocation, has nothing to do with employment. My work is to travel, to learn, to grow, to write, to love, to explore, to play, to live.... My most important "job" is to experiment with my own life. I am a scientist, and my life is my lab. In retrospect I am grateful to Arby's for helping me to realize that. The monotony and humiliation of that job stripped the enemy of all its propaganda. I suspected then, and know now, that there is no dignity in "a good day's work"... unless that work is solely and truly my own. Employment is not respectable, and there is nothing more pathetic than the working man. And slavery is nothing to be proud of. by Skald The internet has opened up tremendous opportunities for homeless and neo-nomads who wish to go to school. No longer is it necessary to be bound by the limitations of a traditional campus. No longer is it necessary to live in a dorm, pay outrageous student fees, and be bound by a rigid class schedule. The world of distance learning opens up new possibilities. A hobos student can now study at their own pace, on their own schedule, while living wherever in the world they want to live. Also, the modern hobos student can continue a nomadic life while pursuing a wide range of degrees. There are distance learning programs in many fields and at all levels (Bachelors, Masters, and PhD.). These programs are accredited. An added bonus, many of them do NOT require SAT or GRE scores. I am currently enrolled in just such a Masters program, through Shenandoah University's TESOL program. I applied to this program while living in my van, unemployed. I was accepted and began the first semester while still living in my van. I used the local library for free internet access.... to research my assignments and to post my papers to the University. The internet is one huge library, so researching papers was no problem at all. One month into the semester, I moved to Bangkok Thailand without significantly disrupting my studies. I now use internet cafes to do my work. Classes are sent to me on DVD, which I watch at Thammasat University's library (a nearby library). I submit papers over the internet. I am amazingly free compared to previous stints as a traditional student. I watch classes whenever I want to.... am not bound to anyone else's schedule. I can also do my work according to the timing that works best for me. I prefer to work in short, concentrated bursts.... doing a lot of work in a short time and then loafing in between. The flexibility of distance learning lets me do just that. And I can stay on the move. I can take off to Malaysia, or the ocean, or the country, anytime I want without worrying about missing class. Almost every sizable town in SE Asia has internet cafes, so I can write and post assignments from anywhere. Most public libraries in the USA also have free internet access. And the best thing of all is that I'm learning much more. I love the independent nature of this program and find that I do more research and more work than when I was just plugging along in an on-campus program. This really is a fantastic way to study. It can be done by homeless people (voluntary or involuntary), car dwellers, neo-nomads, social misfits, etc. who are inclined to get a degree. Skald Crystal Evans Reprinted from Whats Up Boston, December 2003 It was February when I ended up homeless. But I realized long before that my life was in a downward spiral. Every time I hit what I thought was rock bottom, something else would happen and I'd fall a little deeper. I had run away from spiritual and emotional abuse at home at age 19. A few months later I ended up with a traumatic brain injury and a broken neck in a car accident. Because of the brain injury, I lost nine jobs in 16 months. I became homeless, got on my feet, and found myself homeless again seven months later. I was afraid I was never going to stand again, and that I would always be a nobody. Before ending up homeless I had goals for myself, but after living in a shelter surrounded by drug addicts, alcoholics, those with mental illness, and people dying of AIDS, I saw no hope. Most of these people had been homeless for years, and many were my age when it first happened. I was staying at Pine Street Inn when we saw previews for the movie . Homeless to Harvard: the Liz Murray Story. The staff agreed to let us watch the first half, due to our bedtime. As Liz's story unfolded, it was clear that many of the women in the room were deeply moved. Liz was just 15 when she became homeless. She had grown up with loving, but drug-addicted parents in NYC. When Liz's mother was diagnosed with AIDS, the family broke up. Eventually, social services came and took her away from her father because she never attended school. She went to live with her mom and grandfather but ran away. The last scene we got to watch that night was when Liz's mother died of AIDS. I thought that if I could see the rest of the movie I might be able to get out of my own downward spiral, and wrote about it on my on-line journal. Liz Murray stumbled across the post and invited me to her apartment in New York City so I could watch the sec! ond half of the movie… with her! I jumped at the opportunity and a week later I was on the bus. Liz and I hit it off immediately. We were the same age and although our childhood and homeless experiences were very different, we had a lot in common. We went out to eat, then watched the rest of the movie. I sat next to her as I watched the story of how she rose above homelessness to get herself into Harvard University. Although she never really attended school for any continuous time, she decided to go to high school at age 17 and graduate in two years at the top of her class-while homeless. She ended up getting a New York Times Scholarship to Harvard. She is currently attending Columbia University, giving speeches about her life, and writing a book that will be out in the spring. Liz was amazed by my story. She kept telling me that I had a lot of potential. She was so positive about my situation. She kept reminding me that I wasn't going to be homeless forever that, like her, I would have an apartment someday. I left Liz's house determined to do something with myself, but I wasn't quite sure what. On my list of goals before I ended up homeless was to finish school. What was I waiting for? What was stopping me? I couldn't think of anything. I already knew I could get help paying for school from MassRehab because I was disabled. I decided to apply to Harvard Extension School and go for the writing program. I'm still homeless but I am also a student. I'm in rehab at Spaulding Rehab Hospital for my brain injury. I volunteer at Ronald McDonald House and the Children's Hospital. I keep an online journal on homelessness. I have been speaking at colleges in the New England area, and I'm applying to Harvard University for fall of '04. Liz Murray and I are still in contact, and she will continue to be my inspiration. I want other people to know they can rise above homelessness and get somewhere in life. Being homeless doesn't mean yo! ur life is over. It's simply another challenge a person must overcome, one that makes one stronger in the long run. You might want to call me the     
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