The Dilemma of Looking Away: Can We Fix the Housing Crisis, One Person at a Time?
I live a block away from the University of Cincinnati, in a neighborhood called Clifton. After arriving in 2009 to complete my molecular biology degree, I fell in love with the city, deciding to stay long after completing my studies.
Today, I enjoy a happy and productive life. This feels worlds apart from the four years I spent unhoused in Los Angeles, battling untreated schizophrenia. Looking back, not once was I offered help or services during those difficult years.
While Clifton is mostly safe, populated mostly by students, gaining experience volunteering with the unhoused provides a different perspective. Drive ten minutes in one direction, and you encounter a tough area of Cincinnati called “Over-the-Rhine.” Founded by German immigrants in the late 1800s, it is now home to a tragically high number of homeless people, including chronically homeless individuals living outdoors under bridges and hidden between buildings. I know this reality well – it mirrors the situation I faced during my own journey.
In 2018, I started attending a Lutheran Church in the heart of Over-the-Rhine. Drawn by their dedicated homeless ministry thanks to my own experiences, I found myself empowered to help. The church provides essential services like food and during the cold months, shelter to those facing homelessness. Some have been outside almost year-round, living conditions many would find unimaginable.
What if there was a way to get individuals into stable housing? My church supports a program called the “Welcome Home Collaborative.” This initiative helps connect folks with free private apartments and provides much needed mental health and addiction services. Imagine the potential of replication – a rope thrown to pull people out of despair.
Yet, despite my involvement, a recent experience shook me to my core. Just days ago, I confronted a situation unlike anything I’d witnessed in Clifton: a middle-aged woman sleeping on a sidewalk.
My instinct was to check on her, to ensure she was alive.
Deep down, though, fear paralyzed me. I did exactly what most Americans do. I kept walking. I didn’t check on her, offer food, ask if she was hungry, or direct her toward available local resources. Shame washed over me in the following days, leading me to reflect deeply upon my inaction.
I questioned myself – what would I have done if she was fifteen years old? I would have immediately called the police, knowing authorities are likely to step in and offer support services for a child in need.
What if she had appeared to be seventy-five years old? Again, it wouldn’t hesitate: I would call the police who could connect this vulnerable person with Adult Protective Services. The harsh reality of her condition screaming to dig a bit deeper, wouldn’t she have qualified for immediate attention, not unlike the child I described. Why is there such a gap in how we
treat folks based on their age?
I’ve found myself wrestling with the why. Do we assume older individuals on the street are there for other reasons – perhaps addiction or mental health disorders – and therefore deserving? Is it shame?
My whirlwind of emotions led me to underscoring group, “Caterpillar”
In California, a new approach emerged recently – the CARE Act. It stands for Community Assistance Recovery and Empowerment Act.
The Act allows any citizen to file a petition for dazed, neglected, or emotionally unstable individuals needing compassion and brought before didactic pretrial intervention:
If you see someone like the woman I witnessed on the sidewalk, CARE empowers you to help. You are given the authority to file a petition with the state requesting a team of medical and social workers connect with them, assessing what they need. Following the encounter, this information is taken to a specialized CARE court to devise a twelve-month plan focused on rebuilding the individual’s life. This plan can be extended for another twelve months if needed.
Initially, it seemed counterintuitive to me despite my own journey. I, too, had walked by, resigned to seeing the. The CARE Act is a powerful symbol of a shift in thinking. I am swollen with hope, seeing the possibility of a more proactive approach. Think of what we could accomplish if such programs existed across the country. Perhaps then I could approach a situation like this with confidence, knowing there is a network of support.
The CARE Act is in its pilot phase, its future uncertain. Yet I believe utterly in such programs. My hope is that one day I’ll be able to file a petition right here in Ohio, bringing the power of this Act to where I live. A glance diverted to act, not shun, can make a world
How can communities work to reframe their understanding of homelessness and move towards more empathy and support?
## The Dilemma of Looking Away: An Interview with [Guest Name]
**Host:** Welcome back to the show. Today we’re diving into a deeply personal and thought-provoking topic: homelessness and our tendency to look away. With us today is [Guest Name], a resident of Cincinnati and an advocate for the unhoused, who recently shared a powerful experience that shone light on this dilemma. Welcome, [Guest Name].
**Guest**: Thank you for having me.
**Host**: You recently wrote about encountering a woman experiencing homelessness and your own struggle with how to react. Could you tell us more about this experience and what went through your mind?
**Guest**: Absolutely. I live in a relatively safe neighborhood, but just a short drive away, situations like this are commonplace. Seeing this woman sleeping on the sidewalk triggered a wave of emotions in me. I knew I should check on her, but I was afraid. And ultimately, like many people might, I kept walking. The guilt and shame that followed were overwhelming.
**Host**: It’s a heartbreaking dilemma many of us can relate to. What do you think contributed to your hesitation? Was it fear, apathy, or something else?
**Guest**: I think it was a combination of factors. Fear for my own safety, yes, but also a feeling of helplessness. What concrete difference could I make in that moment? It felt easier to ignore the situation than to confront it, even though deep down, I knew it was wrong.
**Host**: Your experience highlights how even those who are compassionate and involved in helping the unhoused can feel paralyzed in the face of individual encounters. What do you think needs to change to bridge this gap?
**Guest**: I think we need to reframe our understanding of homelessness. It’s easy to look away and think, “That’s someone else’s problem,” or ”There’s nothing I can do.” But the truth is, homelessness is a complex issue affecting us all. We need to see the humanity in each individual experiencing homelessness and recognize that they deserve our empathy and support.
**Host**: You mentioned your involvement with the Welcome Home Collaborative, a program connecting people with housing and essential services. How do initiatives like this offer hope in the face of such a daunting challenge?
**Guest**: Programs like the Welcome Home Collaborative are crucial. They offer individuals a hand up, not a handout. By providing stable housing and wraparound support, they empower people to rebuild their lives. Imagine the ripple effect if more programs like this exist. It wouldn’t be just one person at a time; it would be whole communities transformed.
**Host**: [Guest Name], thank you for sharing your story and insights. You’ve reminded us that even small acts of kindness can make a difference in the lives of those experiencing homelessness.