The Difference Between Homeless People and Victims

One of the most curious things I've learned about the word "homeless" is that there's not one accepted definition. A reporter who wanted to do a story on me a while back was confused and annoyed because the photos I had of me "being homeless" weren't depressing enough.

"Who smiles when they're homeless?" she asked.

Well, lots of people actually. It's not like being homeless makes you a 24/7 poster child for Prozac. It sucks, but for many of us, it has its good moments — being with friends, scoring a great meal or being handed $20 you weren't expecting, wearing new clothes or socks, getting a job, savoring a balmy summer evening with a safe place to sleep. You can have good days when you're homeless. Really. You aren't betraying anyone or living a lie if you laugh while living on the streets or in your car. You might be accused of not truly being homeless if you aren't in abject misery around the clock, but who cares?

When I was on the streets of Denver the homeless I met there often told me I wasn't homeless because I "had hope." Where I lived (a van) had nothing to do with my homeless designation. My attitude did. They saw that as down and depressed as I was, I wasn't totally resigned to continuing to live as I was.

There are still people who tell me that because I lived in a van I wasn't "really" homeless. To a large segment of our population, apparently "being homeless" involves being unemployed and addicted, covered in your own feces, crawling with lice, reeking of body odor and begging for cigarettes on the street. A box or viaduct or culvert is acceptable shelter if you want to meet the "truly homeless" standard, but a van, car or tent in a National Park isn't. You aren't or haven't been "really homeless" until you've lost everything, everybody and all connection to society. If, at any time you have any kind of resource or edge — you're not really homeless. I call bullpuckey on that.

So I've recently decided there are two kinds of homeless people. There are victims, and there are the rest of us. Victims have neither options nor hope; the homeless have no house.

There are people who for mental health reasons, age, disability and some other circumstances will always be homeless victims no matter how much they don't want to be. They no more have the ability, resources or options to get off the street than I have to play basketball in the NBA. They truly have no options unless they find an agency or organization that is willing and able to do for them what they cannot do for themselves. They are victims — unfortunate people who suffer adversity through no fault of their own.

Then there are other kinds of "victims." These are the people who revel in their homelessness, in being at rock bottom — because it is the ultimate badge of victimhood. No van, no family, no friends, no hope. They take pride in being homeless and have no desire to get off the streets even though they may have the ability to do so. They enjoy being a victim for a variety of reasons, from attention-seeking to an ignorance that there's a better way. Anyone who threatens their reality, or their ability to remain a victim, or who suggests they might really be able to change their status as a victim, is seen as a threat or an uncaring, insensitive bastard.

Worse, these people find organizations that enable them in their victim status — organizations that continue to warehouse them and allow them to abuse the system in order to retain funding and jobs for the organization. There are thousands of organizations content to let marginal victims be victims. I'm not alone in seeing this.

Remember, I am not blaming people who have been legitimately victimized. I'm just saying there are people who are truly victims and there are those who are truly not. Anyone who has ever worked in or stayed in a shelter or been on the streets knows the difference.

Labeling someone "not really homeless" is one way some people preserve their victim status and divert attention and resources to themselves. By insisting that those who are working hard to get off of the street "aren't really homeless," they preserve their status as the pitiful and hopeless — whether they are or not.

So, what makes someone truly homeless? And does it matter? I spoke with Ed Brenegar a few months ago about this. Ed is a life coach, a business leader and a pastor. He has worked with the homeless for decades and has seen and had a hand in some miraculous recoveries, such as addicts and alcoholics no one else would work with. He's helped them get off the streets and into productive, happy lives. He was able to because they wanted off the streets. They fit the typical "homeless" model of people truly at the bottom of life's barrel yet they escaped the streets. Why? Hope. Attitude. Desire.

Ed struggles with this dichotomy as well. We talked at length about two men he met who were both working, both making enough at day jobs to afford food and a campground and bus fare, but not enough to save for a car. They utilized homeless services and considered themselves homeless but weren't quite "homeless enough" to get the little bit of help they needed to move beyond their situation. They weren't victims, so they didn't qualify for help as homeless.

Ed and I are both frustrated with a system for the homeless that focuses so many resources and so much energy on those victims who could get off the streets but don't want to, while ignoring those who, given a chance, some life skills and some breaks, could easily get off the streets and back on track. We struggled to define what it was that keeps so many homeless programs and shelters from being effective.

I  met many homeless victims in Denver. They bragged about gaming and working the system, about getting free food, free rent and free services so they could continue to live free without working. Some were addicts and alcoholics, others were young, healthy and capable of working and admitted it. They just didn't want to work and told me society "owed" them. Sorry guys — it's true. Not everyone on the streets is a hard luck story waiting for a happy ending — which is why the current economic situation has upset the victim cart.

There are more and more homeless people and families because of economic or temporary life situations. They don't want to be victims and resent the implication that they are. They don't want to linger in the homeless holding pattern. They want out. They want options. They're not about to give up any chance to feel empowered and in control. They know that feeling empowered is what they need to get off of the streets. They're demanding real help — life skills classes, job coaching, transitional housing, affordable housing. They want to read about how others beat the street and made it back into a job or house. They're house-less, but not hope-less.

There are definitely two camps. And as the economy worsens, the differences will become more obvious. I for one hope that in time the word homeless will stop being synonymous with the word victim.

Photo credit: edwardmyers40