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Meet Franky | Stil Rolin’ | stories of The Cold & more
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“The problem with stereotypes is not that
they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.
They make one story become the only story.”
–Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
What is a Street Magazine?
We humans have a natural tendency
to make snap judgments. This can come
in very handy—see someone down a dark
alley? Probably shouldn’t go there. But
snap judgments can also lead us to make
sweeping generalizations about groups of
people based on insufficient information.
When we stop seeing people as individuals
and lump them into groups, we’ve fallen
into a trap that does not let go easily.
The first necessary step that helps us
escape this trap is awareness. A friend
of mine told me about a group of people
who live in tents near her home. Snap
judgment. She was aware, and the police,
when contacted, confirmed for her
that it was not a crime hot spot. At the
same time, it was a concern for her, and
intimidating to have that situation so
close to home. And how to help? Walk
down to the encampment, strike up a
conversation, offer a contribution? Most
people, myself included, have never made
that move. After all, relationships start on
neutral ground—at a party or at work—
and we ease into them. those living on the streets as individuals.
So how to move beyond awareness and Reading the articles inside helps us further
into relationships? A street magazine can to see not the “group” but individuals—
be a first step in that direction. It is by Randy, and Frankie, and Laurie, and Bill.
vendors experiencing homelessness, filled Yes, buying a street magazine will help
wtih articles written by those vendors a fellow citizen financially. Investing in
and their peers. We have a chance, one more friendship will chip away at the
when buying the magazine, to strike up imaginary wall.
a conversation, to learn a person’s name,
and hear a story from a new point of —Benjamin Shaw
view. Here is a rare opportunity to see Speak Up TC Advistory Board
For more information about Speak Up in Traverse City, email billshaw@speakupmag.org or
visit us online at speakupmag.org/TC.
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Intersections, Relationships, Transformations
This edition of Speak Up Zine is making
my hair stand up.
When Speak Up began three years
ago, it was influenced by dozens of other
street papers and magazines around
the world—like them, we wrote about
homeless people, social justice and
homelessness issues. But six months ago,
when we began publishing the zine, Speak
Up’s editorial vision expanded. Now it is
written by “street writers”—who are on changing individual lives as well as entire
the streets right now, or have recently communities.
experienced homelessness. They write Thanks, Bill and Debbi, for having such
about themselves and their friends and vision to introduce Speak Up to Traverse
experiences. City, MI. Thank you, Speak Up’s governing
As I’m finishing a final read of this issue board of directors, for seeing the future of
before it goes to press, their stories, essays what is possible as we look ahead.
and poetry are giving me goosebumps. Thank you to the faithful volunteers—
This issue is so full of heart, authenticity, in Michigan, the Carolinas and beyond.
and power. The authors you’re about to Thank you, Peggi, Noah, Melissa, Ben,
read aren’t just homeless writers—they are Nate, Ryan, Samantha, Will, Harry, too
Great Writers! many to name—thanks for everything
Being able to steward these pieces into you do behind the scenes to keep Speak
your hands is a privilege and an honor. Up growing and effective.
Through its content and model of Thank you to Lana Shaw—my wife, the
distribution (p.24), Speak Up builds best editor I know—for being a faithful,
bridges between cultures, classes and creative and inspiring partner all these
communities. I am incredibly thankful years. You are terrific.
to be in the position of being able to Thank you, reader, for purchasing this
observe the intersections, relationships magazine. By doing so, you’ve become
and transformations that come as a result. a partner in someone’s journey out of
Thank you, dear friends on the streets, homelessness.
for bravely sharing your lives and stories Keep in touch.
with us. Thank you, to those of you who
become Speak Up Vendors—your task of —Matt Shaw
reimagining yourselves as entreprenuers Executive Director
requires courage, dedication and humility.
Thank you, faithful donors, sponsors,
and supporters. Your investments are
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All They Have
Though not old in appearance,
this woman across the room from me has to use a cane.
Or so she just thinks, maybe.
The cane is not old or wooden, either.
It is decorated with loud purple and verdant green paisley leaves—
with silver shining through in between.
She uses it, in-sync with her steps,
to make her way to the toaster,
then to a table with the toast in her other hand.
She then gets two cups of coffee,
one at a time, just the same.
When her husband enters, all is in place.
But he is tilted in frame by some back injury it would appear.
Still, the symmetry.
For when they are seated, they look through the newspaper’s section called
Body and Soul
First, they find the classifieds,
apparently looking for a place to live.
They talk in confidential whispers
as if not wanting anyone else to see where they might go.
Soon they are looking at their horoscopes:
her, hunched over, squinting,
following the printed lines with her forefinger
as if it is a solid and tried map.
He, perhaps just knowing she believes in them,
at least somewhat.
And that is okay.
I surmise: They are all they have.
And I surmise that if they were to read my horoscope
it would say:
Today you will grow jowls,
become rumpled in the morning,
have more gray hair,
and have achey joints.
Look in the Mirror.
Don’t look in the mirror.
Get a cane.
No—
Get a wife.
But by all means don’t.
For you are all you have.
Quit surmising others.
—Steve
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I stumble down early morning avenues where families
are exiting the comfort of their homes together, and I
reminisce about the long lost days when I had a family,
when I had a job and the comfort of a home. I keenly
observe everything I wil never have, and I hurt.
—Dustin, page 18
All They Have 04
Cover Vendor Interview 06
Your Feedback 07
Freedom Street 08
If I Were 18 Again… 09
I Have No Use for Fear 10
The Icy Claws of Winter 11
Tribal Loss 12
The Cross 13
Thank You, Jubilee 14
Bag of Stones 15
Still Rollin’ 16
Truly Safe Habor 17
Hope Dead Winter 18
Denial to Joy 20
Surviving the Night 21
Join Speak Up 22
Vendor Program FAQ 24
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COVER VENDOR: A CHAT WITH WITH FRANKY
Franky Faunce recently visited East Jordan High School where he spoke to over 300 students.
ARE YOU FROM TRAVERSE CITY? WHERE IS YOUR NUMBER ONE
Originally I am from Munroe. I lived in PLACE TO EAT AND HANGOUT IN
Kingsley for twenty-two years, until ‘98. TRAVERSE?
My new favorite restaurant is Harvest.
WHAT IS THE BEST MEMORY YOU
HAVE OF GROWING UP? WHAT IS THE HARDEST PART OF
That is difficult for me. I suppose the day YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW?
I got my Labrador Retriever. He was my Missing my kids and not seeing my
best friend for 16 years. grandkids.
WHAT PERSON HAS MEANT THE WHERE WILL YOU SLEEP TONIGHT?
MOST TO YOU IN YOUR LIFE? In my van.
Jesus Christ.
WHAT’S A RECENT A MILESTONE?
WHERE AND WHEN DO YOU SELL I wrote a book. It is coming out mid-
YOUR MAGAZINES? October.
I sell on Front and Cass from 2-5pm
most days and at the farmers market WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF IN
Wednesday and Saturday mornings. FIVE YEARS?
I expect to be impacting the world in
DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FIRST some way. I want to take what God has
SALE? given me and share it with others. I want
I sold a zine to Gordon Pennington. He to help people get out of their addictions.
tipped $20!
—Interview by Bill Shaw
DO YOU HAVE MANY CUSTOMERS?
Yes, 1,250 customers for sure.
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!?! CUSTOMER FEEDBACK ?!!
Speak Up vendors are extremely thankful for feedback from customers and passersby. They
are motivated to become as professional and successful as possible. Your input helps our
vendors to build on what is working and identify areas that need improvement. Please submit
your thoughts at speakupmag.org/survey.
Here are some recent positive comments:
My brother is Michael was very
one of your vendors and writers. professional and articulate.
For several years, he bas been struggling He was not pushy, but clearly explained
with alcoholism and survival. I am really what he is doing and why. I will support his
excited to see that there is a light in his eyes work in the future if I see him again.
again, and that through this opportunity —via speakupmag.org/survey
his life is kick starting for him again. I went
down today and saw my brother on the
street doing better than I have seen him foryears. I went home crying. And I met the I was stopped yesterday by
other vendors. They were full of life anddelighted to be alive. It just amazing. one of your vendors.
—via email I didn’t get his name but he said he was from
Ohio. I’m just visiting from out of town, I
live in Georgia. Normally I don’t stop for
I had a very pleasant homelessof them arepeoplereallybecauserude andwhereinsultI youlive manywhen
interaction with the gentleman yousuperhavenicenothingand I wishto Igive.had moreBut thistimeguyto talkwas
who sold me the paper, and witnessed to him. I was wondering if you guys could
another conversation that he had right tell him how nice he is and that it’s great that
afterwards with a man and a teenaged boy. he’s doing something for himself and I really
Best of luck in your endeavor. wish him all the best in his life.
—Karen, via Facebook —Shania, via email
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FREEDOM
STREET
At first the avenues were broad I saw voluptuous queens
An all-inclusive spindle Smiling on the children’s play
In which I was the axle Always aware
Revolving angles Of what a prospect was becoming
To see pathways, savory and filthy
But there came a day I saw arching entries
When the center was weathered Juggling and dancing
And newborns like a storm Those in activity
Crawled onto my platform Developing in fluidity
So I made the choice
To wander on. I saw the royalty riding
Two way smiling
This avenue seemed to The productivity
Capture golden rays In flowing interconnectivity
With no mirrors of deception
An honest reflection I saw finally
Of a majestic beacon A stark white tree
Hastens fleet footed Shedding pastel leaves
In a sanctified direction Into a parting sea
The sediment
I saw the individual artisans Like assorted fabrics
In their laborious consternation Plaid and vibrant
Their vibrant stitching All collected
Overflowing with morning By the humble bearded
Scavenging on freedom street
Lovers touching
Blindly enjoying —Tyler
An afterglow of shared knowing
Collapsing finally
On the couches of the street
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If I could go back to 18, some things
would be different. I would not use
marijuana. I would appreciate the chance to
receive a decent education. And I wouldn’t IF I COULD
try so hard to impress my peers. All of these
issues are the reasons why my life is so
unmanageable. If I could go back, I would
have done everything differently.GO BACK TO 18
If I could go back to 18, I would have
never smoked marijuana. The drug has
caused me to lose opportunities like being
in the military, keeping jobs, etc. Also, it has
caused me to become very complacent, lazy,
and forgetful. Because of it, I’ve had extreme
mood swings. My drug use cost thousands of
dollars. From 18 to my age now (29), I have
spent at least $30,000 on it! That is money I
could have used on more important things,
like my daughter, an apartment, and food.
When I was 18 years old, I didn’t respect
or appreciate the opportunity to be blessed
with a chance to receive a quality education.
I didn’t realize that citizens were paying
for me to go to school; I thought it was
something that was free, something that
the government had to do. I didn’t pay
attention to all of the other students who
did appreciate it, doing their work, going to
class, following the rules, graduating off to
college with successful careers and families.
Those of us who didn’t landed in jail or got
hurt or died.
When I was 18, I tried so hard to fit in
and impress the other students. This caused
me to do things that I shouldn’t have done,
like drugs, defy authority and make poor
choices and decisions. Trying to be accepted
caused me to get into a lot of trouble.
If I could do it all over again, I’d keep my
eyes on the future. I would surround myself
with good people. I’d learn how to use my
money wisely.
That is what I’m doing now. I’m 29 years
old and trying to turn my life around. It’s
getting better.
—Mike Jones
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I have
no use
for fear
Contempt is the opposite of respect. What
a waste we have, when we lose that sense of
excitement about who another person is and
how he or she goes about their lives.
We often spend our lives in mazes built
of anxiety and fear of things unfamiliar. We
need our lives be better than someone else’s
to fulfill our sense of worth, fearing that
our lives are not as good as everyone else’s.
Should we escape, we will look for a new
maze; and failing to find one, we will require
another one even if we must fashion one.
I hear the voices of history asking where
A friend asked me if I was afraid living on have our heroes gone—the ones that made
the streets, and that left me pondering being a difference speaking out with boldness
fearful. I believe in the goodness of others and a lack of fear, changing society. What
and myself and so do not fear the streets or can one voice accomplish if no one speaks
the people on them. This does not mean that out, letting fear take away our humanity?
I’m not leery, cautious, or watchful of those Where are the poets, artists, and writers
around me. But, to me, to live in fear of the that find ways to enrich the human
unknown is a waste of time and energy. experience by giving truths that many find
Sometimes we see that those who are to be inconvenient knowledge (we are all
fearful can be the most dangerous when the same)? Where have the voices crying in
they gain power. Seeing the strengths as the darkness, lighting the way to a brighter
well as the weaknesses, they fasten only on tomorrow gone? Where is that lion’s voice
the weakness fearing those who have no or speaking not in fear, but with compassion,
little power. They use forceful rejection to knowledge, truth, and an ethical rightness,
remove inconvenient knowledge, without speaking not for fame, greed, or glory, but
the conscious acknowledgment and because it is the right thing to do, and the
acceptance of our kinship. We use others’ right time?
weakness as a way to feel better about
ourselves and our lives, refusing others’ —Randy Parcher
values that they, as human beings, deserve.
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the
ICY CLAWS of winter
Winter is a season I used to like in my
youth. When I was younger, the cold
temperatures never used to bother me.
I could stay out most of the day making
snow angels, tobogganing, and ice skating
on a clear sheet of glass while looking at the
bottom to see what I could see.
Now the white blanket of snow really
gets me depressed. When I see the first
flakes, I shudder, wanting the warmth of
the sun and not the dark, short days of
winter when I’ll be craving the heat from
spring. Waiting in line for five minutes to come, for once I get cold, I cannot get warm
get into Safe Harbor feels like hours. Often again. The subzero temperatures make
it is so cold that it is hard to sign my name me pray that spring is coming around the
because of shivering. corner, yet it doesn’t come. The cold breath
Winter has become a cold, bitter creature of the monster is still at the door, the beast
with icy claws, and I am always having to with icy claws.
watch my step for fear of falling on the ice. I
will dress in layers for warmth that does not —Laurie Koelsch
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Tribal Loss
I just got word of another death from my
tribe. My tribe of the homeless. Since last
October, 2013, ten of us have fallen to the
grave. That’s off the top of my head. There’s
likely more, unknown to me. However, to
my knowledge, I have been preceded by:
Raymond (Santa), Brian, Bill (Back
Pack), Jerry, Robert (Ghost), Jeff, Gerald,
Joyce, Chris, Sharon. We don’t so much
have names on a wall, like Veterans, but
we do have names hung from a cross at
Jubilee House, in Remembrance of our
Homeless Veterans of the Street.
I knew most of these people. This is
not a complete list of Veterans of the
Street since my own Homelessness began
in February of 2007. There are many
names hanging from that cross at Jubilee.
My friend, Tony, suggested that we
are a unique and strong breed, despite
or perhaps in spite of, our many deaths.
Everybody dies. Our tribe, or breed, if
you will, has lost people yearly. But ten
in one year seems excessive. The majority
of this tribe died “outside” of the recent
harsh winter weather elements. At least
four died within some form of lodging.
Tony reminded me that the total wear
and tear on our physical and spiritual Jubilee volunteers will contact my father.
bodies and minds is progressive. The More likely than not, Grace Episcopal
days and nights of being outside; the or Central United Methodist will do my
booze or drugs we put into our bodies; memorial. These are the people who
the lack of regular nutrition; the violence have known me since 2007. These are the
survived that can and does exist on the people who care: volunteers, GWI staff,
streets, yes, even here in Traverse City; the outreach workers, and other Homeless
depression, hopelessness, and despair that Tribal Members.
we live with daily. This wear and tear is It is not my intention to be morbid,
cumulative. It remains even after we have but to honor those many who have fallen
found permanent shelter. before me. It is nice to know that, despite
I could easily be one of the names on my homelessness, I too may be missed and
that Cross. I likely will be. It’s simply a remembered. I thank those Who Do Not
matter of how soon. When. I am not Have to Care for caring and remembering
big into formality. I would like to be us homeless as People. People who had
cremated. I have no real, biological family experienced homelessness.
who knows or cares about what is going
on in my life. Likely one of the Goodwill —Renee Rop
Street Outreach workers or one of the
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The Jubilee House Cross
A long time ago when Jubilee House first
opened, there was a very gifted young
woman who visited this special house. Her
name was Kat, and she became a friend to
anyone she met and no one stayed a stranger
for long.
But Kat had a dark secret: drug
addiction. One day in a dark hotel room,
she slipped away from us, her friends.
Kat did not have family, only her “street
friends” who didn’t know how to honor
her life.
One of her special friends, Hobo Don,
approached the volunteer at Jubilee House
who he knew was a carpenter. Don asked
the volunteer if he would make a simple
white wood cross for him so he could
place the cross in the woods, where he
lived, in Kat’s name. Don had tried to
make his own cross out of tree branches;
but without tools the cross always broke
down. Don wanted a cross that would
stand up against the winter winds. The
carpenter went home immediately and
made that fine, strong cross for Kat, which
still stands in the woods.
There now stands a cross in Jubilee
House that is made with strong, tall, proud
tree branches. This tree cross carries the
names of all the special people who have
passed through Jubilee House on their way
to God. The names of these children of God
and their time on this earth shall not be
forgotten.
—Glenda Andrews, Jubilee House
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Thank you, Jubilee
I’m soon to be 63 years old. When I was
15, I ran away from home and joined the
carnival. That lasted just a few months, but it
led to living the next 20 years on the streets.
I slept in fields, ditches, under overpasses, in They have rules that everybody must
abandoned houses, wherever I could be out abide by, but even when they must
of the weather and feel safe. I don’t know that enforce the rules, they do it in love, not
you ever totally heal from all the rejection judgment. I went there hoping I could
and condemnation that comes from living make a difference in someone’s life, and
a life like that. The shame you feel, in those I hope I have. What I didn’t realize was
rare moments when you allow yourself to how much healing was there for me. The
feel, goes very deep. unconditional love I have experienced
It’s been almost 30 years now since since I’ve been a part of this place has
I cleaned up and got off the streets. I’d touched my heart and brought healing
worked with the homeless before, but to my soul. Thank you, Jubilee House
when I volunteered to work at the Jubilee volunteers, and thank you to everybody
House, I found something I didn’t expect. who hangs out there. You’ve all made a
I found people who loved what they were positive difference in my life.
doing. I found a group of people who
didn’t judge me. —Carl Hawkins
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Bag of Stones
Hi. As a person experiencing homelessness,
My name is Renee, I am a person I have slept on rocks, in stones, on dirt,
experiencing homelessness. I have spent sand, grass, and concrete. As I reflect
months outside. Just me and a fl eece upon this poem today, I find it ironic that
hoodie. It was nice during the days, but it was written at the age of 13. It seems
still dropping to high 30’s at night. At prophetic. This poem seems to bespeak
the present moment, I am at the local of homelessness.
homeless shelter trying to get my life back Homeless is synonymous with
on track. hopelessness for many of us, not all, but
When I was a youth, my home certainly it is for me. Still, there are those
environment was quite dysfunctional. I who tell me there is always hope. There
used poetry as a means of coping. Most are those who still believe in me despite
of my poetry was somewhat morbid. I my defects. My namesake,” Renee”, means
had a large collection of poetry. Th is was “reborn” in the French language. And true
lost years ago at the beginning of my to my namesake, each time I have fallen
homelessness. I am now 50 years of age. (and there have been more times than I
Most of my poetry was written between can count), I have managed to pick myself
the ages of 10 and 16, the content of most up, dust myself off, and bounce back.
of it is lost to me. One poem, however, Because of this, I’ve been called “Tigger”.
has stuck with me throughout the years, Frequently, I have done this solo, but
perhaps due its simplicity: there have also been times I have done
this with the aid of community agencies.
I lay my bones I now wear a Petoskey stone around
Upon this stone my neck. It was given to me by a friend. It
On which I lay has become my “worry stone.”
Without Stones and rocks have been here since
some hay the beginning of time. Human’s existence
On which I live has been much more limited. Perhaps we
Of which it gives should heed the wisdom of the stones, and
No life learn to appreciate our time on this planet
But one (life). earth, despite our circumstances.
—Renee Rop
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Stuck in the gutter, he could feel the
water work into his heart. The cold water
washing away the warm jelly that covered
his big heart. He was scared and cold.
The storm ended hours later. The little
wheel and his friends were pulled out of
the drain and started rolling down the
sidewalk. He could hear the man who
pushed the cart. He coughed and coughed.
But what made the little wheel worry the
most was that he was rolling away from
the store.
Farther and farther the little wheel
rolled. His friend started squeaking
loudly. His heart screamed. Ouch!
Another friend squealed. A piece of glass
stuck into his skin.Still Rollin’
“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” his friend said
with every roll down the sidewalk. His
other friend squealed whenever he turned
It’s not about the money. right. The little wheel was not happy.
Not about the man behind the The man with a cough stopped every
keyboard. time they neared an alleyway. He would
Not about the lady paying a buck for dig aluminum cans out of the trash cans
a ‘zine. and throw them into the cart. The buggy
Maybe it would be about the shopping was getting very dirty and complained.
cart wheel under a tarp tied to a fence next “He keeps throwing those soda cans
to the head of the schizophrenic man who into the basket and they are covering me
has pneumonia during a cold winter rain in sticky icky sugar mess.”
storm. “Ouch, its, ouch, also, ouch, beginning,
The wheel’s polyurethane worn and ouch, to, ouch, stink, ouch!”
scarred from the endless daily rolling down “Squeak! I can’t turn left or right now!”
streets and in alleyways. The little wheel “I’ve got a piece of string stuck in my
used to roll on pristine, highly-polished bolt. It’s all wound up, and its hard to roll.”
floors. His friends rolled and rolled as the The little wheel couldn’t say anything
little blue-haired old ladies wheeled the to comfort his friends. A chewed piece
cart through a sea of belongings and then of bubble gum was stuck over his mouth.
into the parking lot where sometimes the MMmph! Was all anyone could hear.
little wheel would get rained on. He didn’t The little wheel was both sad and mad.
like being in the rain. It was nicer inside That was very hard to understand. He felt
the store. alone even with his friends.
The little wheel was so happy for so The man pulled the little wheel over
many years. The cart and his friends some very rough rocks next to some
carried so many things for so many people railroad tracks. Finally coming to rest
that eventually one night during a fierce next to a fence.
thunderstorm the little wheel was carried The day turned dark and light again.
away with the wild winds. Many days passed before the little wheel
Out of the parking lot of the warm rolled again, which was a blessing. That
clean bright store into the street and first day was the toughest day he’d ever
down the sidewalk. Through puddles and faced before.
finally getting caught in the drain next to Do you know what? He survived…
the sidewalk. For hours it poured rain,
thundering and lightning. —Mark Gansert
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TRULY SAFE HARBOR
The proposed shelter on Wellington meals and transportation will suddenly be
Street has gotten some airtime, newspaper centralized. No more “clients” waiting for
coverage, and stirred the fires of debate for a van ride in front of the Governmental
all involved. Center in blinding snow and cold. It will,
There are the “Pro-Shelter” people: in fact, reduce the homeless visibility to the
countless churches, Goodwill Industries, public. (If the sight of homeless people make
along with the Goodwill Street Outreach you uncomfortable, that is—I pray it does, I
Group, people who see a growing need hope it makes your heart move like Christ,
for such a facility. And there are the “Con- and your soul feel like something more
Shelter” people who are against bringing could be done.)
“those” people into their neighborhood. It will eliminate all the twice–daily,
They stress the importance of a sports cramped bus rides, to and from the
complex at the same location. outlying churches. I believe it will lessen the
At the last commission meeting, I amount of volunteers needed; and all those
assured those same concerned citizens that wonderful folks will be freed to find new
probably, even as I was speaking, there were ways to serve, as they always have.
“those” people in the neighborhoods right I applaud the Mayor, Commissioners
then. That is to say, “homeless people”. The and all who weighed in on this discussion.
majority of street folk are simply trying to It is a matter of being mindful, being
get from point A to point B. If they are in compassionate, and being grateful for what
your neighborhood, it is for a reason other you have. It’s about aiding a neighbor in
than mischief. despair.
The establishment of a permanent shelter And as much as I love the idea of putting
is a mega-blessing in many ways. First it gives in a new sports complex, when was the last
people a “home” in a no-pressure location time a soccer player was found dead in a
that it is easily reachable. The coordinating, snow bank?
planning, and logistics of churches—
many far from Traverse City—including —Brad Houston
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Violent awakening…someone’s shaking me. I of my invisible existence I must adhere to.
hear the low guttural growl of the policeman’s The intruding fight-or-flight spawned by
voice… the detachment of the policeman’s voice
“Sir, sir, you okay? You can’t sleep here. reverberates inside—the cold threats of the
You gotta move on or I’ll arrest you for…” enforcers of this self-subservient society
That’s how I awakened so many times echoing inside my post-traumatic mind.
under the bridge, under overpasses, in I am the filthy carbon visage of a legion
alleyways—freezing under a makeshift of invisible persons. I am one of the mutant
cocoon during the bleak winter months of manifestations of a money- and material-
a barren existence. Arrest me—hell, you centric society. I am ugly to some; an eyesore
would be doing me a favor. If I wasn’t so to most, and invisible to all but a few. I walk
proud, I’d let you; I’d give in to the inviting and I walk, searching trash receptacles for
image of a warm place with a hot meal… bottles to return, and asking the occasional
but I can’t. I can’t let them dismiss me so passerby for spare change. Even a hobo
easily, and so I get it together and move on. needs the cursed money to survive. I walk
Time to move on. The sun is rising on the past open restaurants, mouth watering
hope dead horizon, and I have certain tenets and stomach screaming; daydreaming of
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themselves, right? And those that he helps
he must certainly love and so I believe that
if he exists, he must hate me…if he exists.
These early morning walks and
experiences take a drastic toll on my
psyche and I feel the endless thirst rising
from within. I desperately need the warm
embrace of alcohol to fill the hole my plight
has left behind.
Yes, I am an alcoholic. Many of us
invisible citizens are. Does that offend your
sensibilities, too? I hope that it does. I hope
that everything about me and my kind sends
chills through your entire being because
here’s some brutal truth for you: It could’ve
been you. You with your upper-middle-
class affectations and your comfortable self-
righteous lifestyle…your automobile, home,
white-picket-fence,
It could’ve been you.HOPE I am not here trudging through the
loveless streets conducting a tragic existence,
ashamed and alone because of some moral
failure. I am a human being. I was born a
very gifted child with a beautiful mind…
somewhere between, I was lost in translation
in experience. I have no choice whether IDEAD drink or not because I am untreated. I am
untreated because I’m unimportant. I am
unimportant because I am unloved, and I
am unloved because I have been pre-judged
under stigma. I am the collateral damage of
the disease of addiction, the manifestation
of stigma, and the cold judgment of anWINTER egocentric socioeconomic culture. I live
outdoors in brutal conditions; under
the veritable feast of delicious treats inside. bridges, in rail yards, beneath overpasses,
I stumble down early morning avenues and in bathrooms near you.
where families are exiting the comfort of I am forgotten but not gone.
their homes together, and I reminisce about I am forgotten. But. Not. Gone. With a
the long lost days when I had a family, when little love and encouragement I would one
I had a job and the comfort of a home. I day ascend from this desolate vacuum of
keenly observe everything that I will never societal exile and once again walk into the
have, and I hurt. spring sunshine of reconnection in your
I am cold and I am hungry and I hurt. world. I long to be destigmatized, loved,
In hindsight, I’m not sure what was valued, treated…a productive force within
truly more painful: lack of everything that my community.
everyone else had and how that makes me Perhaps one day I will be the change I
feel, the loneliness, fear and hopelessness; would like to see in the world. I hope you
or the sting of the resounding insults are being the change you’d like to see.
and threats—routine rejection because
I have offended the sensibilities of their —Dustin LaPres
beautiful society? God helps those who help
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from Denial to Joy
I can sum up how I came into the homeless were to be married on my birthday: April
lifestyle in one word: DENIAL. I wasn’t 12, 2014. The three of us were inseparable.
homeless. I was in between jobs and down But the Lord had a different plan
on my luck. I had hit bumps in life’s road and took Brian home to be with Him on
before. The only difference was I always had December 12, 2013. It was and will be the
a roof over my head. What I last found out saddest day of my life. With the help of God
was that there is a rock bottom, and I had and my friends, I came out of my valley of
hit it. sorrow; and I claimed strength I never knew
That put me in such a state of depression I had. With that strength, I have pulled
that I lost all the self-respect I had left. Right through some hard times, so that I could
when I convinced myself that God had left enjoy the good times and friends He has
me, He sent me my new brother: Brian. put on my paths. With His help and Brian’s,
From the moment we laid eyes on each I am looking forward to seeing how this
other, it was brotherly love. We both felt it. journey ends.
We filled the void we had in our hearts. God I decided to share my story so people will
had replaced the family I lost when I was 13 know that just because people are homeless,
years old. Brian and I never left each other’s it doesn’t mean that we don’t feel pain due
side and always had each other’s backs. We to the loss of a family member or loved one.
were no longer homeless because we had We receive joy from the blessings God
each other. We were just houseless. gives us.
After a few months, Brian met the love
of his life: Holly. I now had a sister added to —Coty
my family. I grew to love her as well. They
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Surviving
Surviving the night!
When the temp hits below zero, you
must GET INSIDE, OR YOU MAY DIE!
THAT IS THE COLD HARD FACT the NightOF LIVING ON THE STREET IN
NORTHERN MICHIGAN. Forty degrees
and lower, this cold KILLS! Period. unless there is a blizzard or something;
Sometimes in the winter you do not then you will not be alone. There will be
have a roof over your head. For whatever others. Always others.
reason, you missed the bus that was to But besides these, there is no place to
take you to the church for the night, or you go to get out of the cold, unless, as I said,
drank too much and are barred from the you get to the bank or Post Office lobby.
churches. What do you do? Well, praise You must sleep, so you’ve got to find a
God for the bank ATM lobbies! Yep, they warm and dry place inside where you
are heated, and an ATM provides a shelter can get sleep. These two lobbies provide
from the bitter cold. These are life savers. this shelter. Thank you, bank lobbies;
Another place is the Post Office lobby. Yep, thank you, Post Office. I do not know
both are always open and heated, HA! The what I would do without you two WHEN
other option is the 24-hour big box stores CAUGHT OUTSIDE in the bitter winters!
but you cannot sleep in those, you have
to be constantly moving. In these stores, —Franky
you are watched if you are there too long (who is thinking of heading to Florida)
without buying anything. So stay away
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Become a Sponsor or Donor
SPONSORSHIP
SPEAKHELP THEUP GIVESMAGAZINEA VOICE & JOBS for individualsare onprimarilythe streetsfundedor SpeakSpeak UpUp Magazine’sprovides twoproductionopportunitiesand operations
experiencingby your tax-deductiblehomelessness:donat
A Voice
Speak Up Zine is written by street writers who are currently
homeless or have been on the streets.
A Job Opportunity
Speak Up’s publications are sold by homeless or vulnerably- housed individuals. They become micro-business owners who
sell the magazines and keep a generous profit.
renews hope that an income provides opportunity empowering This and a dynamic creates and self-respect future, increases for the intersection of cultures and individuals. community-changing
SPONSOR CHANGED LIVES AND PERCEPTIONS need in those SPONSORS considerOUR Please the in hope and SPONSORSa sponsorshipyour supportgiftfortodayopportunityto empower OURshow and publicly
community with a generous tax-deductible gift.
OUROUR SPONSORSSPONSORS SPONSORSHIP LEVELS
$2,500+ / Transform the Community
$750 & Up / Change Perceptions
$500 & Up / Give a Voice
$250 & Up / Promote Opportunity
$100 & Up / Start a Conversation
PARTNER NOW
Go to speakupmag.org/sponsorship or
call to learn more:
Charlotte — 704.351.2537
Traverse City — 231.675.3860
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Much gratitude to Speak Up’s sponsors, who:
TRANSFORMED THE COMMUNITY
CHANGED PERCEPTIONS
THE
WADSWORTH
HOUSE
thewadsworthhouse.com
GAVE A VOICE
watershedtc.org
PROMOTED OPPORTUNITY
STARTED A CONVERSATION
SUSTAINED MOMENTUM
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VENDOR PROGRAM Frequently Asked Questions
What is a Speak Up vendor?
“Vendor” is the title for the hardworking individuals who distribute Speak Up. Most likely
they are experiencing homelessness or are vulnerably housed. Your purchase of this magazine
is part of their journey out of poverty. You can learn more at speakupmag.org/vendors.
How does someone become a vendor?
1. Sign up for an interview
2. Show up to the interview
3. Attend the Training Day
4. Sign Code of Conduct
5. Get 20 free zines and temporary badge
5. Reinvest and attend weekly meetings. look for a valid Speak Up badge
What if I give money but don’t take the magazine?
Please don’t do that. By doing so, you’ve turned a micro-business owner into a beggar. Feel free
to tip, but always take the magazine. Please help support their efforts to manage and budget
their resources effectively so they can get more magazines.
But I don’t have any cash!
A few smartphone-equipped vendors can accept a credit card payment. We are also
experimenting with Scan-to-Pay using your cellphone camera (lean more at scan.me). For
now the best option is to plan ahead and keep a few dollars handy for your favorite vendor.