Oversimplifying the Vulnerable

I would say that most kids in the Bay Area are pretty sheltered from the realities of California. I mean sure, we can pride ourselves in having the privilege to openly and frequently discuss societal issues, but does that imply that we truly understand what is going on in our home state? Through mere discussion, can we deconstruct long-standing stereotypes, correlate numbers and statistics to real people, and go out into the world inspired to make a change? For me and most other sleep deprived students sitting in high school classrooms across California… not a chance. 

I promise it’s not because our generation is downright evil– don’t lose your faith in humanity just yet– but because there lies a natural mental chasm between simply hearing about things going wrong and actually understanding how people are affected by them. This chasm leads to us going out into the world, readily equipped with knowledge about the homeless crisis, then proceeding to cross the street to avoid an unhoused person sleeping on a bench. While I understand the instinct to prioritize safety in light of the widespread message that individuals experiencing homelessness are “dangerous,” it’s important to recognize how these stigmas can cause us to oversimplify the root causes of homelessness. The barrier of the word “dangerous” shifts the blame of poor circumstance onto the vulnerable person themselves with no consideration of the complexity of their past experiences. Barriers such as this one lead us to learn so much about certain issues, but limit us from extending that courtesy to understanding the people who are affected by them. It’s clear that discussion isn’t enough to change the world if we are not even a little bit inclined to actually stand next to the people who are suffering and vulnerable in our society.

   And you may be wondering where I get the authority to say all of this, especially because I appear as precisely the type of sheltered person that I called out in the very first sentence of this essay. I mean, come on, I go to a Catholic private school, I live in a nice area where crime is low, I’ve never had much experience with financial instability… Alright, I concede that I used to be sheltered from all this; I’m speaking as a former part of the problem. However, a recent experience– namely, a social justice trip I took with another 24 classmates around the marginalized areas of California– completely flipped my perspective on my home state. I spent the first few days of my summer volunteering in the Tenderloin, an area that is remarked as one of the most dangerous and crime-ridden in all of San Francisco. In a dining hall, I anxiously served precisely the type of people that I would cross the street to avoid– the homeless, those battling mental illness, those who struggle with addiction, etc. Within the first five minutes of smiling at each passerby and handing them water on their way out of the buffet line, I experienced a radical shift in perspective. Seeing their faces soften with gratitude, noting their individuality by engaging in small talk, and even getting compliments on my name (An actual quote: “How do you say your name? Ah-khee-la? Damn, that’s fresh.”) did in mere minutes what hours of discussion could never accomplish. The simple interactions with each unique person bridged the mental chasm amongst our entire group, with many recounting later on that they felt ashamed for generalizing so many people.

And no, I’m not telling you to go approach random people on the streets in the noble name of social justice. Rather, I encourage that everyone in their lives should interact with the types of people that we constantly stigmatize in a controlled environment, such as volunteering. Many of us are taught from a young age, in the name of safety, to not look at the unhoused, to avoid people with tattoos, and to steer away from the mentally troubled in the streets. When we continue this mindset into more mature ages, we often dehumanize entire groups of people, overlooking the fact that these individuals are human beings that deserve our consideration. The assumption that all people within certain groups are dangerous is the barrier that slows down the onset of justice, allowing us to dehumanize and ignore the needs of millions of vulnerable people. We justify this mindset because we see certain groups of people continually turning to violence, illicit substances, and crime, rationalizing that this pattern allows us to conveniently isolate ourselves from the millions of people that society deems “unfit.” And as I see this occurring, whether it’s in the attitudes of the people around me or the people in charge of our country, my only question is, why do we label these people as dangerous, but not vulnerable? 

   The correlations to illegal activity or overall instability to a lack of parental guidance, childhood trauma, and poverty are no secret. We discuss these sorts of things all the time, but it doesn’t do much to change our attitudes, even perpetuating the gap between us and the vulnerable (likely because of the aforementioned mental chasm). Oftentimes, it just takes one simple interaction in order to break down the barrier of the word “dangerous” and begin to see people as so much more than that. Contrary to popular belief, these interactions can occur without risking personal safety. If we want to truly reshape our world for the vulnerable, we must first know what it feels like to interact with and serve the people who would be impacted by that change.

   Equipped with both this perspective and the experiences from my trip, I was inspired to write about the realities of the homeless, those with substance abuse disorders, and gang members that I had been completely oversimplifying out of my own ignorance. I find that the avoidance when it comes to “taboo” groups of people very much stems from an oversimplification of their character or experiences. It’s always going to be easier to cling to simple statements like “All gang members are inherently evil” rather than “Gang members are trapped in an environment where violence is the norm, and given that many are born into poverty, either lack or have weak parental figures, and are routinely exposed to illicit substances, very few have the stability that is needed in order to cease gang involvement.” 

   I like to think of social justice as adding nuance to and strengthening understanding of the complex people that we routinely exclude from society. Unfortunately, the nuances illuminated by this way of thinking are not always appreciated by everyone. The first priority of many politicians and those who hold legislative power has often been to influence the general public, and it’s difficult to do that when issues cannot be easily simplified. Simplicity often twists the full truth, and unfortunately nearly always appeals to the public, especially when the issue doesn’t directly affect them or involves “taboo” groups of people. Social justice deals with real human beings who are each worthy of consideration, which is why it’s so important to recognize and uproot harmful simplicities or preconceived notions that cloud our judgment. I hope this essay does some work in bridging the chasms in your mind, but it’s up to you to recognize that it will ultimately take a personal experience or two for a true shift in perspective.

   The groups that I mentioned before– the homeless, those with substance abuse disorders, and gang members– often remain chained to the perpetuation of instability, violence, and addiction that exists across the nation. These struggles are cyclical in nature, influencing the vicious loop back and forth between jail and the streets, a reality that seems to be overshadowed by the call for harsh punishment. During my trip, I had the privilege to interact with all three of these groups of people and hear their stories of recovery. Across these accounts, one factor proved itself vital in breaking this cycle: stability. Whether it was housing, the support of rehabilitation centers, or even the routine responsibilities of parenthood, stability was their saving grace. While incarceration is viewed as the solution in stabilizing these individuals, its one-way approach of dealing with millions of diverse people is inherently flawed. Though it’s definitely possible for people to be changed after doing time in jail, it simplifies the fact that stability can mean shockingly different things depending on the type of person in consideration. In the vast majority of cases, our current incarceration systems are neither enough to heal people nor prevent reoffense.

Homelessness

   Consider someone who is homeless prior to incarceration. To them, jail often (ironically) becomes more favorable than being in the streets. It provides a place to sleep, food, a schedule, and nearly all the necessities that they lacked when they had their own freedom. It gets to the point where it’s common practice for those who are homeless to purposefully commit crime in order to gain access to a stability that just isn’t possible outside of jail. It’s also important to mention that in California’s largest city, Los Angeles, the homeless population only accounts for less than 10% of all crime. 25% of these arrests are directly linked to “behaviors intrinsic to homelessness,” such as loitering and vagrancy (which quite literally just makes being unhoused and wandering the streets a misdemeanor). The many instances of law enforcement’s treatment of the homeless as nothing but a “public disturbance” demonstrates our nation’s characteristically avoidant attitude when it comes to people in need. The other 75% who are charged with violent offenses and misdemeanors face the consequences of this flawed approach as well. Upon release, any sense of stability is suddenly taken away from them, leaving no real barrier to the possibility of reoffense. It truly is a lose-lose scenario, endangering both the homeless population and public safety. How are these vulnerable people supposed to find stability after incarceration if it just perpetuates the cycle of instability upon release?

For others, homelessness isn’t necessarily the cause for incarceration; rather, it is incarceration that often leads to homelessness. The vicious cycle between homelessness and incarceration is backed by shocking statistics– “People experiencing homelessness are 11 times more likely to face incarceration when compared to the general population, and formerly incarcerated individuals are almost 10 times more likely to be homeless than the general public.” It’s no wonder the United States has the largest number of incarcerated individuals worldwide! The irony of being released from jail, only to realize that there are preventative measures to keep you from rejoining society seems almost intentionally malicious. Even for a simple misdemeanor, release from jail severely limits your opportunities to seek employment and search for overall stability. What is the point of releasing people from jail if the system sets them up to reoffend not just through crime, but to face homelessness as a consequence? If the justice system is supposed to protect the public, why are they setting up certain groups of people up for failure upon release?

   The current state of our world could benefit from the embracing of a more compassionate stance on things. A person is never one-dimensional or reducible to a singular word; rather, they are a complex result of uncontrollable circumstances and their limited power of decision. Now that you've seen many examples of that, it should be clearer when I say that people are not just dangerous, they’re vulnerable for a variety of reasons. An understanding of this won’t just come from a classroom setting with statistics and discussions, but from sitting with the vulnerable in the midst of their discomfort, even if it’s challenging to do so. However, the greatest challenge isn’t just removing the barriers and bridging the chasms in your mind– it’s using your understanding of others as a catalyst for change in the world, to ensure that no experience goes unheard or oversimplified. It may not be as hard as you might think, though. Perhaps the hardest part is just starting. Once I had my understanding, inspiration came to me naturally and I started writing like a maniac, which culminated in this article. I can only hope that in the future, all of you are struck with the same feeling as well!