It's been a while! Life has been a little crazy lately - good crazy, bad crazy, crazy crazy, and everything in between.
Part [err, most?] of
the "craziness" was being SO wrapped up in the final plans and,
ultimately, carrying out the Alternative Spring Break to San Francisco
that I'd been planning since September. It's now been a few days since
I've been back in Oregon, but I am still just so blown away by the
experience that I really can't find words to describe it - albeit the
title of this post may be the best description I've come up with so
far.
I do know that I can't begin to describe
the experience without first giving credit to the students that came on
the trip. They were all such rock stars. For several of them, it had
been their first time volunteering anywhere. Many have never had the
opportunity to leave the *Corvallis bubble* and explore new ways of life
different than their own. And I'm not just calling them "rock stars" to
sound cool [which, I know, I do], they literally
rocked it. This was one of the most challenging weeks for myself, and
I've been through quite a lot of volunteer experiences. We all learned
so much from the trip - from one another, the people we met, the things
we saw - and the students are so excited to be bringing back what they
learned in San Francisco to attack the issue of hunger &
homelessness in Oregon and Corvallis. I can't be more proud of them, seriously.
Here is a pic of them [minus Jane!] holding their Sevenly stickers I gave them on our last day of service [and of course a nod to Sevenly's impressive social media presence]:
[Justin, Eden, Sergio, Virginia, Will, Susan, Lindsay]
This trip would not have been the same without any of them. I am so thankful for the opportunity to have met each one.
During
the week, we volunteered with 8 different organizations in SF focusing
on hunger & homelessness. I wish I could write about my experiences
with them all, but I think just this post alone is going to be long
enough.
One organization that has stuck with me is St. Anthony's Foundation.
They invited us to attend a 5-hour program they call "Justice Education
Day." Within that block of time, we got an extremely informative layout
of poverty in the city (specifically the Tenderloin District, which is
where St. Anthony's is located and where our group stayed), helped
organize clothing donations for their Free Clothing Store, ate lunch
with the guests of their dining room, and listened to the story of a
recovering addict participating in their drug rehab program. It
certainly was a heavy day, but one that I don't want to soon forget.
During
lunch, I met a man that challenged me to think of myself outside of my
skin more than I've ever been challenged to before. If you are reading
this, then you are probably well aware that I plan to continue to work
in the social services/non-profit sector. My AmeriCorps experience has given me so much valuable CONFIDENCE
that I needed for this area of work, so I went into this lunch
experience thinking it'd be no problem at all. Really, I was just there
for a source of support for my students...
Boy, was I wrong.
I
sat down at a table with my tray of food, my glass of lemonade, and my
student Susan by my side. Immediately, Susan began talking to the man to
the left of her. His name was Matt and sweet beyond belief. I wanted
her to have this experience to herself, so I decided to say hello to the
man across from me. The moment I asked him his name, his eyes shot up
from his food to make direct contact with mine. He immediately snapped:
"Oh no. No way. I am NOT about to let you talk to me about Jesus. About
God. No way in hell." And with that, he stood up, snatched his tray of
food, and stormed off. Needless to say, I didn't get his name.
It
took me a few seconds to catch my breath. Why did he think I was there
to talk to him about religion? Was it my name tag? My blonde hair? My
"smiley" demeanor? Immediately, I realized that I was being stereotyped.
Homeless and/or individuals living in poverty often cannot get out of
the cycle of poverty because of the stereotypes behind this social
issue. And here I was, being totally vulnerable, and totally judged, by
someone I didn't know. This is something that this man, and the hundreds
of individuals eating at St. Anthony's that day, likely deal with on a
constant basis. I reflected on that realization for a bit, and then
turned to my left to join in on Susan and Matt's conversation.
After about 10 minutes [just enough time to recover] the man returned to our table. Sitting right across from me again. "Oh boy," I thought. "Get ready, Emily..."
"I
hate you," he said with the angriest eyes I have ever seen meet my own.
He explained to me that he hates me, my generation, the young people
that "come in and take jobs away" from his generation. He lost his job
of 25+ years, and was replaced by someone younger than him, with fresh
ideas and a fresher face. I carefully listened to him, and let him talk.
He told me he can't find another job because he doesn't have a degree,
but he's angry because he does have experience. I asked him what
his experience was. He has spent his entire life working in the
medical/nursing field. Amidst his anger and hate in his eyes, I remained
eye contact and I apologized to him. And I truly am sorry - it's not
fair that that's how life works. I'm sure that I will face that same
issue later in my life, and it's not OK. I tried to relate to him,
telling him that my own family has gone through several difficulties
with job security. It didn't seem like he cared. He continued to spew
hate my way. After I spent so much energy listening to his frustrations, accepting the hate in his heart, and apologizing so many times - not once but TWICE - he once again snatched his tray, reconfirmed his hate for me, and left the table.
Susan
was still cheerful and sweet, talking politics with a woman that took
Matt's seat. She had no idea that any of this exchange was going on
beside her. Once again, I took my breath, ate a bit of my food, and
joined in on the new conversation.
Another
15 minutes passed, and he was back. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" I thought. He
sat down, a bit calmer this time but I still sensed his anxiousness. We
made eye contact. I wasn't sure what to do, so I gave him a small nod
and continued eating my lunch.
"I
don't mean to offend you," he said. And I don't think he did. I
understand his frustrations. I understand his hate for the world right
now. I
understand that he doesn't want to make small talk with the smiley,
blonde-haired girl across from him. He went on to tell me that he is not
homeless
[a stereotype that I had already subconsciously made: missing a tooth,
eating in a soup kitchen, wearing a sweatsuit, messy hair...]
but he can't afford food for himself because of his job loss, and rent
is so high in SF ($600-$1,000 minimum for an SRO, without a bathroom)
that it leaves for very little to no disposable income.
We
exchanged a few more words. I took time to explain to him that I'm
serving in AmeriCorps right now, and I want to continue efforts to make
our country more aware of human rights issues that we're battling, and
too often ignoring. We talked of things that I can do, and encourage my
generation to do, to ensure these rights are met. I was being rushed
away because we had to go on to our next program at St. Anthony's, so I
apologized for needing to leave and got up with my tray. Once I stood,
he looked up at me and held out his hand. "My name is Carl."And that was
that.
I learned so much from Carl during that ridiculously intense lunch break.
- Accept a hateful heart. But don't forget to approach it with patience, respect, and time to listen.
- Be more conscious of how others understand my identity. [I could've taken the name tag off...]
- Stop. Stereotyping.
- Stay teachable.
I
am so thankful for the opportunity to meet Carl. To work with all of
the other organizations that week. To have a time to have conversations,
and make eye contact, with those that I may otherwise just pass on the street. I left this experience feeling overwhelmed at the self-identifying moments I had, depressed at the realities that so many individuals need to face every single day, enraged
that those who have power to change this issue for the better only turn
to solutions to cover it up (see: Sit/Lie Law in the Haight), and empowered to really, truly, make a difference in the lives of individuals, somehow.
