Zine 13 – Speak Up Magazine

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$1.00 04

Meet Michal | Stil Rolin’ | Hope Dead Winter & 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

More than a Magazine Tell Your Story

Speak Up Magazine is a 501(c)3 non- Writing workshops are open to the public
profit based in Charlotte, NC. The purpose every Tuesday at Speak Up at 2:30 p.m. This
is two-fold: to give a voice and provide is the first step to being published.
employment for vulnerably-housed and
homeless individuals.
Speak Up offers an income opportunityfor homeless and vulnerably-housed Get an Empowering Job
people. They become micro-business
owners who buy copies of Speak Up for a Have you lived on the streets? Are you still
low price and then resell them, keeping all there? Are you on the edge?
the cash and earning a generous profit. As To join Speak Up and become a
a result, these enterprising street vendors magazine-selling micro-business owner,
learn to manage their resources and grow come to Speak Up on Mondays to sign up
their businesses. for an interview. Or call 704-980-9885.
This legitimate alternative to begging
and social handouts creates a livable
income, increases self-respect and renewshope for the future. This Zine Team

Editing
Will Vaughan, Liana Harvey, Peggi Knowe,Get Involved Melissa Sprenkle, Ben Shaw, Lana Shaw

Volunteers and interns are welcomed for Photos
creative areas, such as photography, editing Deb Shaw, Fritz Gartner, Matt Shaw,
and video work, as well as administration, Jenna Thomas
development, social services and more.
Your generous donations and Also
sponsorships keep Speak Up going. Please Visit us online for photo credits and more
give today at speakupmag.org/donate about Speak Up’s mission, vision and
leadership team.

1515 S Mint St, Suite B, Charlotte, NC 28203
speakupmag.org

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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
Hope in Chaos 11
Hope for Living 14
Bag of Stones 15
Still Rollin’ 16
No Longer an Outsider 17
Hope Dead Winter 18
From 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 MICHAL

HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ON WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?
THE STREETS? My hobbies are cooking, going to church,
I had been homeless for about three and singing in my church choir.
years, but I have a place to live now in
Charlotte. HOW HAS SPEAK UP HELPED YOU?
Speak up has benefited me in a great
HOW DID YOU GET TO THAT POINT? way. I was in a traumatic accident
I unfortunately lost my job and then I and everything I worked for was
was addicted to drugs. I was addicted to unfortunately taken away. I then met a
cocaine for about three years. friend, and he told me about Speak up. I
have been here ever since.
DID YOU EVER THINK YOU WOULD
BE IN THAT POSITION? WHAT IS SOME GOOD NEWS
No, I never thought I would be homeless. YOU’VE HAD RECENTLY?
I was approved for my disability last
HOW HAVE YOU BEEN CHANGING Friday. After finding out, I came to Speak
YOUR SITUATION? Up to volunteer. I had to give back .
I prayed about it, and then God showed
me the way to work again. —Interview by Liana Harvey

BEFORE HOMELESSNESS, WHAT
WAS YOUR LIFE LIKE?
My life was very frustrating and
depressing. I felt as if I didn’t fit in. I felt
like an outcast.

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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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Hope Found in a Smile

Today, I met an old customer from the up in a hopeless situation. She might have
Farmer’s Market. Her name is Jane. She rejected me; instead, she accepted me the
teaches at Iron Butterfly Pilates. She smiled way I am. I didn’t think she was going to
and was courteous. Her smile always accept me the way I am. It’s a beautiful
calms me down when my life’s situation thing.
is chaotic. I mentioned to her that I was
looking for a roommate. Surprisingly, one Go to church
of her friends is looking for a roommate Get close
too. It gave me hope and encouragement. Pray to God
For 18 months I lived in a women’s Enjoy fellowship
transitional shelter. But two weeks ago
I finally left. The staff there was cold I am feeding the sparrows at the light
and controlling. Time after time, they rail station with Bojangle’s biscuits. They
threatened me with their power instead of are flying everywhere. I am imagining
trying to help me. I never had any peace seagulls flying over the ocean, and I am
or privacy. looking at my daughter’s picture while
Right now I am staying in a hotel and talking with her on the phone. I have not
looking for a roommate. I searched on seen her in a long time. She is having a
roommate.com and sent emails but have good time with friends at a restaurant.
not had a reply.
My customer, Jane, offered a very warm —Ruth
smile and replied, “I will ask my friend
about rooming with you. I will get back to
you about the good news.” She cheered me

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fromhonest streets.
Raw,storiesthe

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Page 14

Hope for Living

I grew up a basketball player. Growing
up in high school was a thrill for me,
just being able to associate with some my
high school buddies. I learned a lot of
gifted things that I still use today. In high
school, I had the opportunity to be on the
high school basketball team. I never was
a starting player; usually I was the last
player to get in the game, but it was a lot
of fun.
After I left prison in the late eighties,
I was sent back to my hometown in alcohol and drug problem. This was in the
Reidsville. I left the penitentiary without middle and late nineties.
a dime in my pocket. I was on the streets, After a few more times seeing the
free, but broke as a jaybird without wings drug counselor, I was told I had a very
and nowhere to stay. People I knew, like bad alcohol problem. He finally found a
my family, didn’t want anything to do with place in Gastonia where I could go and
me. So here I was, homeless and broke. get help with my problem. I stayed at a
I grew up in the streets, so I knew church in Gastonia, which was partly
where everybody would be. I started used for alcoholics to stay and try to get
out at the usual place, uptown, because sober. I went through all the reasons for
uptown was the only place I knew to be. me becoming an alcoholic and couldn’t
I met up with some of the same friends I get a better reason other than myself. I
used to hang with. A good friend took me stayed in that church a couple more years
in after a while, but I knew I couldn’t hang going to AA and NA meetings three times
with the people he associated with. I was a week. I worked in Gastonia for awhile as
older. It didn’t take long for me to see that a production worker on the assembly line.
this wouldn’t work. I worked for about a year and a half at a
I went on a binge of drinking and drugs tool company.
every day—same old thing, drinking After coming to McCreesh Place, I
and drugs. I finally met my destination have a place I can call home. Being here
after going to jail a couple more times. has given me great hope to live again.
After being locked up for drugs and
disruptive behavior, I was sent to see a —Joe
psychiatrist who sent me to see a mental
health specialist so I could get help for my

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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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NO LONGER AN OUTSIDER

I lived in Ohio for awhile working as a temp But people here let me in, and have
worker. One day, I found out that there were taken the time to get to know me, even
budget cuts, and I was out of work. After those people whose beliefs are very
learning this, I went home to get some sleep different than mine. And the Speak Up
and planned to find work in the morning. family does something I respect: shows
At about one in the morning, an electrical what it’s like to be homeless by sharing our
fire started. I saved what I could, but I lost stories with the public.
a lot of my possessions. Just as the embers I think that our world is in need of
were dying at 3 am, my slumlord showed up peace. To bring our world together, people
and asked everyone for rent. I ignored him, need to quit judging others and shutting
took my two-month’s rent, and traveled for them out before they know them. Once
a few weeks. this happens, we can bring balance to
On Valentine’s Day, I showed up in the world and make it better for future
Charlotte and started looking for work. generations. That, I think, will be a great
There were people who helped me through gift to give before one passes into the next
my travels by giving me food or a bit of life.
cash. When March arrived, I was brought This is what I dream about.
to Speak Up. These people helped me a lot,
in a way that taught me a lot. Here, I feel —Tom Costantini
like I belong.
When I was in Ohio, I was an outcast,
on the outside looking in. You see, I am a
witch. Some people think that means I’m
evil, but I am misunderstood.

Page 18

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

Page 19

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

Page 20

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

Page 21

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

Page 22

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

Page 23

Much gratitude to Speak Up’s sponsors, who:

TRANSFORMED THE COMMUNITY
CHANGED PERCEPTIONS
GAVE A VOICE
PROMOTED OPPORTUNITY

STARTED A CONVERSATION
Donors and Volunteers
Tank you, volunteers and donors, for keeping Speak Up strong:

Lauren Beatty, Nate Casey, Linda Cripps, Marc and Amy Dickmann, Noah Driver, Phil and
Marilyn Felten, Troy and Christina Felten, Jason and Kristel Finns, Jill Rokos Gilmore, Nikki
Godfrey-Hill, Harry Griffin, Steven Hodgen, Chuck and Carol Jarrett, Steve and Peggi Knowe,
Bryan K. Lewis, Joshua Lewis, Owen and Lauren Lienhard, Seth and Haley McCord, Chris
Murphy, Ann Nelson, Samantha Norden, Bryan Norton, Shannon Presler, Cheryl Price, Cal
and Lea Queener, Bill and Debbie Shaw, Iris M. Shaw, Bruce and Kathy Simpson, Josh and
Whitney Skeans, Angela Snyder, Joseph Toth, Rise Ward, Will Vaughan

Page 24

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.