Tag Archives: poverty

An American Failure: Confronting Urban Homelessness

16 Monday Apr 2018

Posted by in Rants, Writing

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Nashville alley. Copyright 2018 Jonny Eberle.

Last week, while attending a conference in Nashville, Tennessee, I had a chance to walk around the downtown area. Traveling alone has always been something I’ve enjoyed. I can give myself permission to wander without any destination in mind — it’s a great way to get immersed in a new city. Without anyone else to distract my attention, I was also freed up to observe the details I might otherwise gloss over.

Nashville is a beautiful city with amazing music on display seemingly everywhere, a thriving food scene and fascinating history. But like so many urban cores in America, it also has something else — a homelessness problem. In the span of four blocks, I passed two people panhandling, one person sleeping on the steps of a church (appropriately named St. Mary of the Seven Sorrows), and one person loudly talking to himself.

It was overwhelming. My first instinct was to ignore it, as most of us do, as I typically do on any given day. But then I changed my mind. I decided that instead of pretending that a homeless person wasn’t there, that I was going to notice them. I was going to make eye contact and acknowledge their existence.

That night, on my way to an event after the conference, I heard someone say, “Please, sir, will you stop a moment?” I stopped. A woman was sitting in the doorway of a closed office building. There were tears in her eyes.

“Please,” she said. “I am thirty-eight dollars away from making rent this month. I have three kids and five grandbabies at home. Can you spare anything?”

I asked what her name was. It was Antoinette. She told me that she was selling newspapers to raise money — one dollar per copy. I told her that I would gladly buy a copy. I told her that I would be happy to buy one from her. I gave her a dollar and let her know that I hoped her luck turned around. She thanked me and I continued on my way.

The newspaper was a short tabloid filled with short articles by homeless people in Nashville, telling their stories. Side note: For my readers in the Tacoma area, please check out One Person’s Trash, a similar publication that is written by the homeless and sold around the city. It’s an amazing concept that helps a lot of people. Please support them when you can.

Today, I find myself thinking about Antoinette and wondering if she was able to get enough money to pay her rent or if she and her family were going to end up on the street. And I’m thinking about how many of us — myself included — blissfully ignore the tragedies playing out on our streets every day and every night.

Maybe she was putting on act. I have no idea. We tell ourselves that people begging on the street are scamming us; it makes it easier to pass by without engaging them because we believe that we’re wise to the scheme. But what worries me is the possibility that some percentage (and I suspect it’s high, though I have no data to support it) of the people asking us for money really are at the lowest point in their life and have no other choice. That’s been eating at me all week.

It easy for those of us with the luxury of a roof over our heads and enough money in the bank to cover our basic needs to pretend that there isn’t a problem, but there is. Our cities are blighted. Poverty is all around us, but it appears to be most concentrated in our urban cores. This will only get worse as we react to suburbanization and downtown areas are subject to the forces of gentrification (and the increased cost of living that comes with it).

Giving a dollar to every person you see on the street will not solve this epidemic. Corralling the homeless into a tent city or another central space away from view will not solve this epidemic.

As a society, we have failed. The problem isn’t confined to Nashville. In every city in America, people are sleeping in doorways tonight. That should not be normal. We have failed to provide a safety net for our neighbors when they hit hard times. We have failed to prioritize affordable housing, accessible physical and mental healthcare, job placement and training, livable wages, good public education, veteran support, and strong communities that don’t let their residents fall through the cracks.

We are all at fault and it will take a concerted effort by all of us to create solutions to this vast array of problems. We are all one stroke of bad luck from finding ourselves without a job, without enough money to pay our bills, without a safe place to sleep. We owe it to each other to do better.

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Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. Follow him on Twitter and subscribe to his monthly newsletter for exclusive content and recommended reads.

Homeless in the City of Roses

17 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by in Rants, Travel, Writing

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This weekend, my girlfriend and I drove to Portland, Oregon to meet up with a friend and do the usual tourist stuff. We ate a maple bacon donut, wandered through Powell’s City of Books and poked around the holiday market for sales tax-free gifts. Our friend came by bus, so our trip was bookended by time spent in the Greyhound Bus Station, located in a seedy part of Portland’s urban core.

I wanted to like Portland, to soak up its edginess and hipster culture. But I was distracted. In the forgotten corner of the city around the bus station were tons of homeless people. I lost track of how many people asked me for money; how many people I saw curled up in doorways under blankets of newspaper and trash bags. There were several people with bags upon bags of belongings — the remnants of a once stable life.

And then there was the screaming. Every hour or so, someone was screaming at people no one else could see. It was unnerving.

Homelessness is one of those things people don’t like to talk about. It’s an issue that is constantly visible in the cities of America and sooner ignored than discussed. The Portland Housing Bureau estimates that on any given night, 2,470 people are homeless. The actual number is probably much higher. Across the United States, over 630,000 people are on the streets on in shelters. We let so many people slip through the cracks.

A few years ago, I volunteered at Project Homeless Connect in San Francisco, an event that provides homeless individuals with access to doctors, clothing, sack lunches, job placement agencies and veterans benefits professionals. I was a guide, taking a client to each station they needed to visit. Along the way, I learned many of their stories. Many had simply fallen on hard times. Skyrocketing medical bills or the loss of a job left ordinary people without the ability to afford housing. One was a student about my age, who lost his apartment when his financial aid didn’t come and lived in the park while attending classes. I was struck by how similar he was to me, and how easily I could be in the same situation.

In a society that puts so much value on individuality and pulling yourself up through hard work, America has little sympathy for those who stumble on the path to self-sufficiency. Too many people aren’t caught by the safety net and lose everything just because of bad luck or economic conditions.

But where we have really failed is in the area of mental healthcare. In the Greyhound Station, my girlfriend and our friend were understandably spooked by a woman with mental health problems who wanted to talk to them. In the streets of Portland, there are probably hundreds of people in need of care.

In America, we stigmatize mental conditions. We see it as a weakness rather than a medical issue that needs to be treated. The recent outbreak of shootings committed by people with these conditions are a stark reminder of how thoroughly we’ve let so many of our neighbors down.

As I board the train to work each morning, I see a makeshift camp on the side of the tracks. Sleeping bags and canteens lie abandoned as its inhabitants set out into Tacoma in search of food and shelter. Every day, I wonder why we aren’t doing more to help them get back on their feet. What tipping point must be reached before we combat the forces of poverty as fiercely as the forces of terrorism?

As a writer, I feel like I’m in a special position to talk about these issues when no one else will. It’s the task of a writer to draw the public’s eye to the ugly truths of our imperfect society. It is writers who must retell the stories of the voiceless and call for a change in the status quo.

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Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA who has accidentally become an advocate on many issues in recent years. Please feel free to share and comment. You can also follow me on Twitter.

Torn Sleeves: 5 Things I Learned About Writing in 2012

20 Thursday Dec 2012

Posted by in Writing

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This was a big year for me. I graduated from college, moved into an apartment by myself and tried to sell my fiction. This was a year of major successes and humbling failures. I hope you will learn from my mistakes (and I hope I do, too). So, without further ado, here are the top 5 things I learned about writing in 2012 — because everybody loves lists.

5. Writing Doesn’t Pay Well

Earlier this week, I was rushing off to work, throwing on shoes and socks in a mad frenzy, a half-eaten bagel held in my teeth, when I noticed a tear. The fabric on my right sleeve, just above the cuff, had given up its long struggle for survival. The shirt was used when I got it and one of the few dress shirts I own that fits correctly. A replacement will not be coming any time soon.

This is the life of a writer. Most of us are not Stephen King, J.K. Rowling or even Stephanie Meyer. We don’t make bank selling our work. To survive in this business, you have to struggle. You have to hold down a day job or three to support your passion. You have to tear a few sleeves.

Last January, I thought I could sell a few stories and cash some checks with a few zeroes on them. But that’s not how it works when you’re just starting out. In the beginning, sometimes getting published is enough. If you’re passionate and persevere, money may follow. Or it may not.

4. First Drafts Are Supposed to Suck

I’m a perfectionist and it’s killing my writing. I edit as I write. You should never, ever do that. I get so caught up in making my writing polished from the first draft that it’s paralyzing. Nowhere was this more apparent than in my draft for NaNoWriMo. I was supposed to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days and I barely eked out a 6,000 words. Why? Because I edited as I went. I censored myself.

Creativity needs the freedom to suck. And the truth is no one writes a great first draft. You just have to get the story and the characters out in your first draft. Don’t worry about it being any good or making sense. You can and should deal with that when you revise. Let it be bad or it will never have a chance to be good.

3. Don’t Give It Away in the Cover Letter

In April, I submitted a short story to a major literary journal. I waited for weeks before getting a form letter rejection. At first, I didn’t know why. My story was brilliant, tragic, a metaphor for the sluggish American economy and our collective denial. How could they not like it?

Then, I reread my cover letter. There, in the second paragraph, after introducing myself and my previous publications (namely my newspaper work and this blog), was the sour milk that made the whole fridge stink. I told them what the story was about. I ruined it. Before they even read the story, I spoiled it. I’ll bet they didn’t even read it.

Editors want to experience your story without an preconceived notions about what it’s supposed to be. Like a great magic trick, it’s no fun if you know how the illusion is accomplished. A cover letter is a place to introduce yourself and your writing chops — not to give away the ending or preach the “moral of the story.” Doing so is not only pretentious, it destroys the illusion.

2. Learn to Love Rejection

This year, I was surprised to learn that I’m not the second coming of Ernest Hemingway. Okay, maybe I wasn’t entirely surprised, but I’ve spent most of my life being told that I’m a great writer. This year, I learned that there are a lot of great writers out there and a very small percentage get published. Even less make money.

Rejection isn’t bad. It’s part of the process; how we pay our dues. And every time I get a rejection, I put it up on the bulletin board in my study, right where I can see it. It reminds me to never be complacent. Some rejections even include helpful advice on how to improve your writing. Rejection isn’t the end of the world — it’s a step in the process.

1. There Is More to Life Than Writing

Writing is my love and my passion, but if it’s all I do, I’ll burn out or run out of material. Probably both. It’s important to stop writing every so often. Life is a wealth of plot points and and settings and characters. You have to go out there and live it. Eat new foods, get lost in a strange city, date people who tell good stories, answer ringing pay phones, spend all night talking to a friend at a 24-hour diner, tear your sleeves.

The more you experience, the more you’ll have to write about. The world is your notebook and life is your story.

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I’m a writer, photographer and filmmaker in Flagstaff and trying to make it as a writer with a day job. If you liked this list, please like, comment, share or follow me on Twitter: @jonnyeberle.

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