AUSTIN ADVOCATE

POVERTY, CLASS AND THE HOMELESS
By Penney Hunt

The truth is that the United States is a deeply divided society.

There are many groups of peoples whom make-up society, even the homeless that no-one wants to look at.

The concept of “Class” is used by Sociologists and others to describe differences between people that are based on economic position, such as income and wealth, occupation, etc.

Class: Differences imply differences in power. Yet one rarely hears the term mentioned in this country except in relation to the “Middle-Class” or the “Homeless” and other “Class-Prejudiced.” This is one of the most “Taboo” subjects in America.

And most of these Idealisms are mainly from the superrich and Corporate types, even some Christians as well. And this way of thinking and doing things is still LEGAL in the United States today.

Social Idealism shapes our perception on how we look at others but, that’s not what God’s Word says: “Love all my peoples,” No exceptions!

Homeless people and others that society does not consider to “fit-in” with them are discriminated against. We all take a part in society of one kind or another of “Class,” know it or not, like it or not.

There is NO EQUALITY for the “Homeless-Class,” in the United States. There are others who fall prey to this “Class-Prejudiced,” too, like Gay People, People of Different Color, and even some Religious groups, and the list goes on; it even effects the animal world and Mother Nature as well.

Great inequality has been a constant feature of life here in America. It’s become a trend if you will in this great country of ours. A lot us including the Homeless, women, and all men without property have fallen prey to this “warped view” of this matter.

The climb out of poverty has become more difficult, especially for the homeless. There is NO real effort being made to help make “social programs” available to those caught in a downward spiral of poverty.

As a matter of fact such programs that do exist, are steadily being reduced or eliminated altogether, far from being one big “Classless-Society,” the United States is a nation of stark contrast. Yet the myth of classless United States persists.

This social schizophrenia is a constant state of confusion between fantasy and reality—maybe the only way to make “common sense” of the unfair and destructive situation that confronts everyone on a daily basis. Another myth is that people think just because you don’t succeed—it is consistently being explained, that you’ve not made an effort, or are by Genetic makeup are incapable of making it.

In other words, failure is the fault of the person. Which is not true at all, maybe for some people but not everyone.

“Homelessness” is a hard reality for most of society to face. For the homeless it is a “Class” struggle in this country. We are being made scapegoats for society because; we are an “eyesore” for them. Instead of society doing the right thing in helping to correct this prejudice, we, the homeless, are preyed upon by all kinds of people, and by all kinds of ways and, especially if you are women.

Homeless people have no support or laws, programs to help them so; they are constantly being victimized by all. And under these so-called “Public Safety” laws that are being pushed against the homeless are not going to make it better. In fact, it’s only going to make it worse for all.

It should not be a crime to be homeless as this country of ours is trying to do, and not just here in Austin, Texas. There are a lot of homeless people who work, if our states and government can fund and build places for the low-income people to live, then why can’t they do the same for us?… These constant “Public Safety” laws are just making this matter worse.

Homeless people are “just like” the rest of society, they aren’t animals or a bug to be squashed, we have feelings, needs, and can love and some of us are intelligent and believe in God.

Some people don’t realize that they could be one “paycheck” away from being homeless themselves or because of circumstances beyond their control.

We are a group of people at a great disadvantage in our social and economic system.

There is something being ignored in our history by society, a clear lesson: “That the lives of all people, disabled or not embedded in circumstances shaped as much by structural factors as person and biographical ones, and that in a permissive environment full of cheap flops and undemanding work, even “outcasts” largely remain housed.

The homeless and the low-income people are in competition for the increasingly scarce low-income housing units and have there for created a battle to fight.

God’s Word says: “Defend the poor and fatherless, do justice to the afflicted and needy.” (Psalms 82:3) In Jeremiah 5, where the sins of Judah are described, the civil leaders are criticized for, among other things, “the right of the needy do they not judge.” (Jeremiah 5:28)

A just society is: one in which ALL citizens are accorded the economic resources necessary to provide them opportunities—to enjoy liberty, to enjoy economic well being, and to live.

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STREET PORTRAITS: STEPHANIE
By David Weems

Stephanie was another person I met during my early days at the Salvation Army. We’d sit in the “day room” (the waiting area before dinner and bed assignments), and I would listen to her carry on intense conversations with herself. I don’t like to eavesdrop and have always been afraid of people who loudly argue with themselves, but I could tell she had demons in her, and they were battling a very intelligent person. She vacillated between fascinating internal debates about mathematics, astronomy and social injustice, and sudden jeremiads about the Book of Revelations, when “Blood would rain from the sky”.

Stephanie’s strong accent revealed her to be from Jamaica, but some of her “debating” voices showed no accent at all. Though her current appearance was ragged and disheveled, one could see that a very beautiful woman had once lived in that exterior. My curiosity got the best of me and I began to ask about her.

Stephanie had once been one of the most admired and respected teachers in the Austin Independent School District. She was apparently brilliant in the math fields, with a vast knowledge of geometry, algebra, and trigonometry, as well as having a unique talent at communicating with students. I was told she’d received laudatory plaques from her high-school students, thanking her for her skills.

Then something happened. No-one knew exactly what, but she wound up at the Austin State Hospital. They apparently found some combination of medicines which led them to believe she could be discharged.

She never should have been, but government cutbacks released hundreds if not thousands of ill people onto the streets without care or supervision. Like many people, Stephanie could not afford her medication, and even when she could, often opted not to take it because of its side effects.

A once brilliant teacher found herself at the Salvation Army and nobody wanted to talk to her.

I confess I avoided her, too, until one night the crowding forced me to sit next to her in the TV room. She asked for a cigarette, and as I had just opened a pack, I couldn’t say I had none. We sat blankly staring at a rerun of “Good Times” with Jimmie (“J.J.”) Walker when she launched into a diatribe about how insulting the show was to black people. I cringed at first, thinking “It’s just a TV show”, and then inadvertently smiled and eventually chuckled. This seemed to infuriate her.

Then, with surgical precision, she proceeded to explain just exactly why she felt the program was insulting. Her language and logic were clear and lucid. I was stunned into silence. Unfortunately, we never spoke again.

I’ve often wished I knew how she became what she was, and what has happened to her since. I also wish I had spoken to her more. I believe she could have been helped.

I believe a large percentage of so-called “street people” are seriously ill and could be in better circumstances if our tax dollars were diverted from phony wars in some tiny fraction into assisting our own citizens. Maybe Stephanie was beyond rescue, but we will probably never know. May God bless her.

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Machine Guns and Dragonflies
By Why Change Cain

Growing up in the 60’s was always one adventure after another. It seems that there was one part of each year that was more so than the rest. My Mother drove us (my brother and myself) from Dallas to Port Arthur, Texas for our annual 3-week vacation at our cousins, Mike, Jenny, and Linda’s. Our stay always included at least one trip to the beach but what stuck with me the most was all the fun I had just playing outside.

The property had a big front yard that connected to my other Aunt’s next door and both back yards extended way back. Linda was my age and sometimes her and me would go far in the back to what appeared to me as a Sherwood Forest also equipped with what looked like a little gingerbread playhouse.

We could make believe all kinds of fairy tales and act them out, mixing one storybook tale right into another.

What I enjoyed the most was when we all joined in for fun and games around the two houses. Sometimes we played the usual Mother May I. Red Light/Green Light, Freeze Tag, or Hide and Seek. But my favorites were Cowboys and Indians, Cops and Robbers, and Army.

Plenty of toy guns were available and I liked the machine gun best. I could wipe out the entire enemy in one fell swoop whether they admitted to it or not.

There were plenty of places to hide around the two yards. Aunt Opal’s had flowerbeds all around the house with these great big plants that reminded me of tulips. I could hide in the bushes and when the enemy came running around the corner pop out and wipe them all out.

That was when I saw my first dragonfly. It was awesome looking. I studied it carefully. We didn’t have anything like that around Dallas that I recall. My distraction caused me to be taken down by the other side but my fascination was such that I had to ask Linda, “What is that thing? It looks like a giant long bee”.

Linda said, “Oh that! You’ve never seen a snake doctor before? Don’t worry, it won’t sting you”. Just then one landed on me and I jumped out of the flowerbed so fast I nearly fell flat on my face.
Linda just laughed and said, “I told you not to be afraid of it”. I said, “Maybe so, but it still looks too much like a big long bee to me”.

I sometimes wonder how the children of today could possibly grow up without all those wonderful childhood outdoor games I was blessed with. It seemed like the whole world was a wonderful place full of other children just like me discovering it for the first time.

I see so many kids today obsessed with video games, TV, and noise pollution they call music. I feel sorry for them. They are missing so many interactions between each other. They are missing so much learning from each other about how to share the world around them.

I will never forget those wonderful days on our vacation. I will always be thankful to God for such a rich life of good clean fun as a child.

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Educated Idiot

You're just like every
educated idiot
drown in rising tide

Someones rising tide
capitalists boats do rise
but not all have boats

economic tide
lifts only money players
drowns innocence dead

young see life as is
hipocracy is force fed
grow up lose the fun

Teenage rebellion
Natural phenomenon
against status quo

compassion is quaint
reserved for family only
maybe not at all

and please don't disturb
predator next door neighbor
wierdo pays his bills

your ocean is bad
it kills the concept of life
some don't want your boats

diminishing life
by thoughts talks and selfish deeds
you're doing evil

If you enhance life
by service to world at large
you are doing good

Don't rely on God
for peace through economics
vote by how you spend

--Tumen Soliz

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Moon Over Mountains

Lake and a forest
Crickets chirrup from darkness
Stillness

Moonlight at midnight
Silence is painting
Fresh dreams

Night is a bandage
around daylight to cure
Exposure

Sky is aware of her clouds
Moon has a message for us
in our seeded dreams

Thom the World Poet

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If Life Is Art

make mine art naive-folk art
primitive daubs of native enthusiasms
splashed across the canvas
of an unframed mind
make mine -public sculpures-
Rodin, Christo, Gustav Vigelands
Henry Moores reclining in public parks
all that is life is also art
even when no price tag declains its significance
even when as temporary as teardrops
especially when made of melting moments
dropping into the bucket of memories
wiped off the floor each moony evening
returning only in our ocean dreaming
like fish eluding hooks
true art needs no catalouge
an undocumented evening
an outlaw afternoon
a renegade morning
a sunrise that trumpets freshness
and that ending-sunset-
and-in between-our lives
threaded, onobserved
art in the making...

Thom the World Poet

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