A second chance came abruptly for Doug and Abby. They came into Charlotte a couple weeks ago, penniless and afraid. “I’ve never been homeless before,” she said. They slept on newspapers in the woods their first nights—all their possessions fit into a large purse. Hearing about the magazine selling opportunity, they came for an interview at Speak Up and stayed around for the writing workshop and some hot coffee. A few days later they were back for their training— which covers “Thinking like a Business, not a Beggar,” best practices, Speak Up’s Code of Conduct, a sales role play, and couple dozen free magazines. That first afternoon and evening selling magazines they earned $134 combined and stayed in a hotel that night. They’ve been off the streets ever since.
Tamela was a Speak Up regular selling magazines in Charlotte from 2013 to 2015. During that time, things got better for her. In May she emailed this note: “I’m living in Houston, Texas. I’m attending college, working on making my dreams reality. Thank you for helping me find the courage, strength, confidence and faith to be a better person.” She is far away from Speak Up HQ, but our partnership has been renewed. As of this week, she’s now selling magazines in that area. If you’re in or near Houston, keep a lookout for her.
“Charlotte was supposed to be my second chance,” said a friend on the edge. He walked into Speak Up’s world in early 2016, after having picked up a magazine saw the workshop invitation. In that first meeting, he talked to us strangers about his struggle with addiction in vague but hopeful terms. He’d moved away but had left behind a community of devoted friends. “Ben is such a kind man,” said one volunteer. “Mr. Ben was always so nice to me, he bought me food and helped me out a lot,” said a magazine vendor. As for me, I’ll miss him a great deal. He is warm and sad and wise. The thorn in Ben’s flesh kept him pauper-like in spirit, even as his changing circumstances moved him away from poverty. I’m reminded of the old truth, “blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
An earnest conversation with a local chronically-homeless man caught me by surprise as he urged Speak Up to stop inviting and publishing stories from the streets. “You don’t really want to give the mob a voice— they are the unwashed masses, the dirty rabble. They are low-minded, and self-serving; they’d stab you for a dime.” He went on, “I’m just trying to stay alive out there; man, it’s Darwinian survival. They are animals. These people don’t deserve to be heard from.” It was a heavy and intense exhortation—unusual to be urged by a resident of the streets to mute the voices of the streets. Agree or not, he certainly held my attention.
It’s an upside-down proposition for sure: giving voice to and economically empowering people who have been written off by society, by their families and (often) by themselves. But we must—so many of the people struggling on the streets are entrapped by guilt and shame, carrying a sentence of failure that they needn’t bear. My friend Brian sings about “the facts wrapped in a lie”—a reminder that one’s shortcomings and misfires needn’t define one’s identity. So with respect to my homeless friend above, we will—we have to—keep on giving a voice to the bedraggled ragamuffins of the streets, and believing that beggars can become business owners, that losers can become winners, and that the dead can come to life.
Back to Doug and Abby from earlier. A couple guys offered them a car ride that quickly turned sour. The guys tried to overpower Doug and snatch Abby. “They were going to rape me,” she said tearfully. Doug fought back. In the midst of the heated battle, one of the attackers swung a heavy glass liquor bottle at Doug’s head. Before it could connect and knock him out, it struck something else and broke. The disruption allowed them to run off to safety. Doug recounted, “You know what the bottle hit and broke on? A white cross! The cross saved me.” That’s typical fare for Doug. Even before the incident, he talked about being saved by the cross, so this particular intervention didn’t surprise him at all.