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LOOK AT ME: Bill McIlmail on Being
Unnoticed in Plain Sight

SHELTER SHELTER: Refuge for city
shelter residents by Mark Gansert

ROBBED AGAIN: Not the first time for
Julia — reporting by Austin KistnerINVISIBLE
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Speak Up Magazine
gives a voice to the
streets—it is written Matt Shaw
Editor In Chief
by and about those Maria Valdivieso
Art Director who have experienced Photographer
Peggi Knowe homelessness.
Editorial Team
Leah Burnett, Peggi Knowe,
Kaitlyn Tokay, Austin Kistner

Speak Up Magazine It is sold by vulnerably- 501 Hawthorne Ln,
Charlotte, NC 28204
Ph: 704-980-9885 housed street vendors
For additional information about the
production of this magazine, including who become micro- design notes, printing details, photo
and illustrations credits, visit us online
at speakupmag.org/invisiblebusiness owners, develop
We’d love to hear your feedback:
magazine@speakupmag.org a passion for inspired
Speak Up Magazine is a 501(c)3
non-profit and is supported by do­ entrepreneurship and nations of readers such as yourself.
get back on their feet DonateSUBSCRIBEat speakupmag.org.
Get Speak Up in your mailbox every
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Order 10 or more copies for your
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recieve.) speakupmag.org/bulk

SW Street Writer = Has experienced homelessness

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By LaTonya M. Wilson SW

My focus is to remain strong in the
faith of my God;
Focus

To continue to succeed in life with
the ambition to stay on top;
Focus

On me as a mother, grandmother,
Black woman;
Focus

On the little things, and they shall
one day form large;
Focus

On the word of the Beholder, stay
in tune where you are;
Focus

On the faith you walk with Him
and not of men nor women;
Focus

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SHELTER
SHELTER
By Mark Gansert SW

Hidden from the road and nearly invisible, a plain sick. The most unfortunate of those men
man in a black rain jacket sat on a blue milk could not go very far from the shelter. With
crate around a crudely constructed fire pit broken backs or severely damaged hips, with
built of hunks of discarded concrete from a no money to ride the bus, their only choice
house foundation off the road road. A small was to leave the property as required everyday
fire was lit with a few other men sitting nearby and painfully walk to the campsite to wait out
warming themselves from a frigid morning in their day to return to the shelter. Usually this
November. meant they also starved through the day—
their immobility made them unable to reach
The property itself had been razed many years the food served off of Tryon street.
ago and was severely overgrown in a tangle of
weeds. The fire pit and an oddly constructed As the weather changed from summer into fall
lean-to shelter was along the back edge of the and the morning chill began to occur, those
property. Its nearest neighbor was the local poor men suffered terribly with no choice but
men’s shelter. to bundle up with all the clothes they could
and hoard blankets.
The man in the black rain coat built the shelter
for the other men around the fire. You see, The man in the black raincoat was me.
at the shelter, they are required to leave the
premises every morning very early, before the Strong and able and not disabled, I built
break of day. Some of the men at the shelter the shelter and the fire pit to care for those
were there awaiting disability checks for a men out of sheer humanity. I would go to the
host of varied conditions—they were veterans, lunches served and hoard sandwiches and
had been in accidents, beaten up or were just whatever else I could to bring back to those

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men who could not make it that far. the hands of the shelter’s rigid staff members
and harsh policies. Especially those who are
I recently looked at the Google street view of already in pain and suffering. I am no longer
the place of the old campsite. It was cleared there to help them.
out.
Those men who sat around the fire with me
I know there are men who are still severely are no longer in Charlotte. They all received
disabled and live in the men’s shelter. As I disability checks now and have moved well
write this, tears stream down my cheeks for I away from the Queen City. Can you blame
wonder how many more men have suffered at them?

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LOOK AT ME
By Bill McIlmail SW

Sometimes I just want to stand in the street
and scream, “Look at me. I exist!” I have solid
mass, flesh and bone, a face and a smile. Look
at me. Can’t you even see past yourself and
your mirror? Look at me. Just once, stop and
acknowledge my existence. I am somebody.

Maybe I’m not so stylish, maybe pretty plain,
but I am somebody. I exist. This is a person,
this is me. Why can’t you see me? Are your
blinders so close that you can only see yourself
and what you’re about? Moving so fast, if i
stepped in front of you, you probably would
walk right through me. Do I need a stop sign,
bright and red, on me? Maybe “Caution.
Might be a person up ahead.” Or do I have a
yield sign on me or “Do not enter”?

Look at me…or at least look where you hear
the voice coming from.

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JULIA GOT ROBBED (AGAIN)

By Austin Kistner

“It was the fourth of July. I wasn’t working. accept any food. Water was all he wanted,
I just went to hang out, enjoy the 4th and he said. Julia persistently told him she was
maybe grab something to eat.” This is what happy to pay for whatever he wanted to eat.
passed through Julia’s* mind as she hopped He declined. It seemed strange, she shrugged
aboard a bus headed for the market where it off thinking he was embarrassed to accept a
she usually sells Speak Up Magazine. She was free meal.
excited about a much-needed break from the
stresses of daily work and life, and the evening After chatting for awhile, he let her know that
began on an amazing note. he had some friends who lived near Hawthorne
Park and that the city fireworks could be seen
As she relaxed on a bench behind a popular from their backyard, and Julia was invited
restaurant, she chatted with a young man. to join. “He was cute but I wasn’t thinking
Unexpectedly a woman appeared from around like that. I just thought I had a new friend,”
the corner. She was one of Julia’s regular Julia said. They began to walk together. They
customers, often bought her magazines. walked and walked. Julia’s feet and back were
She walked right up and gave her a hug. “I beginning to ache. He suggested they take
love your patriotic shirt,” she told Julia. “You a break. She sat down on a bench. Without
do such a good job selling the magazines, warning, the man grabbed her bag and purse
and I love reading Speak Up.” She opened and ran off into Hawthorne Park.
her purse saying she had a surprise. Julia
was stunned to see that the gift was a $100 “I was devastated,” said Julia. “Everything
bill—celebration of her hard work as a vendor was in that bag, every penny I had.” Hundreds
selling Speak Up. This was by far the largest of dollars had suddenly vanished—money
cash gift she had ever been given—and on a that she’s saved for her YMCA membership
night when she wasn’t even planning to work! where she showers daily, money to buy more
magazines, money for rent, money for food,
In awe of what had just transpired, Julia went her monthly bus pass—gone! She jumped
back to her conversation with the young man. up and tried to run after him, limping and
She found out that he was currently between bounding on her injured foot.
jobs. He was easy to talk with. Tall and lean, his
dark hair was tied back in a musician’s bun. He Her phone was in the bag so she ran into a
had a sweet smile. After being so generously pizza parlor to call 911. “We don’t allow our
blessed, Julia decided to share that blessing. customers to use the phone for 911,” the
“I’m going over there for dinner, do you want waitress told her primly. Julia begged and but
to join me?” Julia asked. He walked with her was told the same thing over and over. The
to the restaurant and sat down but didn’t other patrons looked at her and then looked

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away. She went to the bar area and pleaded
for help. After a while, a man walked outside
with her and called the police.

When the officers arrived, Julia told them what
had happened and went with them as they
searched the area. They found one of Julia’s
bags, her keys and her bus pass. All of her
ID’s, her rent money, and phone were never
recovered. By the time the police had finished,
most of the buses were done running for the
night. An Uber driver, who had been in the
pizzeria when Julia asked for help, offered to
give her a free ride. Thankful, Julia said she
would accept. Then the driver crudely told her
what services from Julia he expected in return
for his. Disgusted, she turned away and began
to walk.

Just overhead, fireworks began to explode.

A few days after the robbery, Julia reflected
honestly. “I believe this person was setting me
up, and I was looking past distrust. I was just
trying to make a friend on the 4th of July. He
didn’t hurt me, and he didn’t seem to be the
type of person to hurt anybody. He seemed
like a gentle, nice, young dude. People’s
intentions can be invisible to you. You can’t
see the real them. You can cry about it for a
minute or two and then laugh about it. When
you look back, some things are comical. You
can learn from it, start over, and try not to __
make the same mistakes.” *Julia’s name was changed for this story. To
read a previous installment about her life,
visit speakupmag.org/pennies.

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THE MEXICAN
GANG PRIEST
By Daniel Becerril / courtesy insp.ngo
Photographs by REUTERS/Daniel Becerril

In the troubled fringes of the northern Mexican who might listen to his message.
city of Monterrey, an aspiring priest is using his
faith to reach out to young gang members and It is a risky vocation. Although violence in
at-risk youth and bring them into his “Gang of Monterrey has fallen from the bloody peaks
Christ.” of 2011, an unknown man pacing the streets
after dark still risks being construed as a threat.
Less than 200 kilometers from the U.S. border, “My alba is my shield,” Guerra says, referring
Monterrey is a wealthy city of corporate to his white religious robes. Sometimes seen
trailblazers. But violence is never far away on in his Superman logo baseball cap, Guerra is
the outskirts, where bricklayers and factory a deacon and will be ordained as a priest in
workers walk poorly lit streets to reach simple mid-August.
cinder block homes.
Guerra bumps fists with the young boys and
Jose Luis Guerra, 34, also walks those girls he meets, and when he talks to them,
pathways, searching for young gang members he sounds more like a psychologist than a

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priest. Given to cracking jokes, he says of his commitment to Christ; then, seven weeks at
considerable girth, “It just means that I am full missionary school and finally, upon graduation,
of love.” a party complete with cumbia dance music.

Often he visits the backstreets with some of The official ceremony takes place in a
his 15 fellow missionaries, two-thirds of whom public square where Guerra explains the
are ex-gang members themselves. The process responsibilities that come with the job, then
of becoming a missionary means renouncing, presents a Bible to the kneeling subjects.
not necessarily the gang, but acts that Guerra A few weeks must pass before the newly-
says devalue people as human beings: theft, minted missionaries can begin visiting
assault, insults and, in some cases, murder. neighbourhoods. First, Guerra and the others
must tell local gangs the new recruits are no
This is followed by three days at ‘camp’ where longer their enemies. Instead, he says, they are
candidates must reflect on their lives and now members of the “Gang of Christ.”

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ANNA’S RULES
By Matt Shaw

Well, Anna* is on the streets again. around. Some friends thought they were nasty
little beasts, but Anna didn’t see it that way.
Her two sisters and her church and others She’d always wanted pets or at least new
teamed together eight months ago and stuffed animals. She was still smarting from
helped Anna get into a house. She’d been the loss when her sister came into a previous
bouncing from shelter to hospital to shelter place she was renting and threw all her stuff—
for years. They gave Anna a list of rules that laptop, papers and stuffed animals—into
she had to follow to stay there. It wasn’t hard; the trash. When she talked about the cats
it didn’t have to be hard. A one page contract she’d adopted, her voice took on a higher
that seemed reasonable enough. register—like a great-aunt talking to little kids
she never sees. “They are my kitties…my
ONE: Keep the lawn mowed. little sweet kitties…” But those sweet kitties,
TWO: Take your meds. those precious little kitties, started to fight
THREE: Earn money selling Speak Up. one another and scratch her legs. It became
FOUR: Don’t try to kill yourself. annoying and troubling and stressful. She
FIVE: Don’t call 911. began to mention them (not good) and talk
SIX: Get good routines. about them (really not good) and text about
SEVEN: Improve yourself. them (bad). She shot off texts to the the lady
EIGHT: Go to the YMCA every day. at the church, to the friend, to the volunteer, to
NINE: Be a healthy productive citizen. her sisters. Text after text. Late at night, early
in the morning. Cats. Drama. Cat drama.
She signed and they signed it; it was a happy
time. Christmas in her own place. ANNA: mr kitty keeps biting me
ANNA: the cats have fleas what do i do?
One of her sisters spearheaded the effort. The ANNA: mr kitty is attacking mrs kitty
sister who is trying to buy a house in another SISTER: GET RID OF THE CATS!!!!!!
state wanted to Anna to have some stability ANNA: i don’t know what to do about the
before she leaves for good. But be careful, she cats…what am i going to do about the cats?
told Anna. If you don’t follow the rules, I’ll find FRIEND: ANNA YOU BETTER STOP TEXTING
a better-paying tenant to live there. YOUR SISTER ABOUT THE CATS OR SHES
GOING TO KICK YOU OUT.
It worked for awhile.
“Anna, you’ve got a choice,” said a friend.
But there were problems. It started with the “Either the cats become homeless or you
cats. (It’s always the confounded cats.) Anna become homeless. At the very least, you’ve
brought in some stray cats that came mewing got to stop texting them about the cats.”

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“Okay,” Anna said. “What do I do?” stalking her, called 911. Broke Rule Five. Got
yelled at by her sister. Things simmered down.
So Anna composed some text messages by Called 911 again. Rule Five. Didn’t mow the
committee—messages of apology for the cat lawn properly. Rule One.
drama that admitted she’d been wrong to be
obsessing about it. Messages that said she was She also broke rule number ten. She broke it
done with the cats. That she was thankful. She every single day. It wasn’t mentioned in the
sent them to Friend and Sister and all seemed contract, but ultimately, it was the only one that
well. But she didn’t get rid of the cats. She hid really mattered. Here it is:
them—outside, in the shed, in the bathroom—
but she never got rid of them. RULE TEN:
Don’t have learning disabilities. Don’t get
The cats were just the beginning. She broke abused when you were a kid. Don’t be the
other rules too. Didn’t mow the lawn properly. oldest of the sisters, the one who remembers
Broke Rule One. Thought the neighbor was your alcoholic crazy dad who pointed a

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shotgun at you and threatened to kill you— SISTER: KINDLY STAY OUT OF THIS AND
over and over. Don’t get bullied in middle STAY AWAY FROM THE PROPERTY. THIS IS
school and high school. Don’t get beat up BETWEEN US AND ANNA.
because you are a racial minority. Don’t
cower in fear. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be Then two days later, Sister came to the house.
shamed and cursed by your mother in her
dying days. Don’t be treated like a domestic “Anna, go cut the grass right now.”
servant and yelled at by your sister. Don’t
be crazy. Don’t think your neighbor is going “I will later today, I’m too tired, I need to rest
to rape you. Don’t try to sue your family. right now.”
Don’t have citizenship status that is in limbo
even though you’ve lived in the USA for “No, do it now.”
thirty years, even though your siblings have
established their citizenship, even though “I can’t.”
it wasn’t your fault, even though you don’t
know what to do, even though you were “I’m evicting you. You need to be out
brought here as a kid. Don’t make mistakes. tomorrow. I am changing the locks. Pack a
Don’t screw up. Don’t contact us for years. suitcase, I am going to throw away the rest of
Don’t call or text. Stay away. Don’t remember your stuff. I have a new tenant who is moving
it all—the abuse, the curses, the assaults in Wednesday.”
from your immediate family. Don’t remember
the hate, the vitriol. Don’t remember the So. Anna is on the streets again.
shame, and you should be ashamed if
you do. Don’t obsess. Don’t lie. Don’t get She’s trying to keep a hopeful heart. “God is
sick and have surgery in July 2016 and be going to provide for me, I know it. I haven’t
immobilized for weeks. Don’t fail—you know cursed my sister at all. I have been praying for
you’re going to, but you’d better not. her and blessing her. I know God is going to
take care of me.”
Anna didn’t follow Rule Ten. It was too much. It
has always been too much.

“I need to cut my grass or my sister is going to
evict me,” she told a mentor last week.

“I can cut your grass,” said the mentor.

MENTOR: I SAW ANNA TODAY AND SHE _______
SAID SHE CANNOT CUT HER GRASS DUE *Anna’s name was changed for this story, which
TO LIFTING RESTRICTIONS FROM HER is based on her recollections, direct reporting
SURGERY. I’M GOING TO CUT HER GRASS and digital transcripts.
THIS WEEKEND.

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VISIBLE AND INVISIBLE
By Joshua Caldwell SW

When I’m in a sad mood and in a bad mood, I turn myself invisible to you.
When I’m in a happy and in a good mood, I turn myself visible to you.
When the world is full of unhappiness, it turns itself invisible to me.
When the world is full of goodness, it turns itself visible to me.
Sometimes I can’t turn myself invisible or visible.
Sometimes everything is all mixed up and I don’t know.

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