COLUMN: Don't Leave Us Out In the Cold

From O.J. Lima's "Blues for Mr. Charlie," Fall '93 From O.J. Lima's "Blues for Mr. Charlie," Fall '93When I first arrived in Philadelphia in the fall of 1990, I had anticipated the bright lights and bustle of a bigger city but not the overwhelming destitution as well. I didn't expect all of the garbage, pollution, and most noticeably the vast population of homeless people. I wanted to give them money because they were less fortunate than I. However, I didn't believe beggary was legitimate, and I couldn't be sure the homeless would use my hard-earned money for necessities such as food and clothing. Thus, my freshman year marked a period of inconsistent decision making – sometimes I gave what I could afford, but often I lied that I couldn't "spare any change." One evening, in the early part of my sophomore year, I walked to the 38th and Spruce streets Wawa for a snack and happened to meet a fellow named Eric. He was a black man who was homeless. In the course of our brief conversation, he offered me words of encouragement: "Don't stop tryin' 'cause you guys will be the ones who make a difference for us some day." I thanked him for his support, but was unable to return the favor. Ironically, upon his request for change I told him. "I had no money to spare" even though I had just purchased a can of Pringles and a six-pack of Heineken. For several days, I could not shake the us from my conscience. In theory, I had always considered all African-Americans in us terms, but in reality had somehow forgotten my homeless relatives. Perhaps, I had unconsciously internalized the concept of "individualism." This definition of individualism has nothing to do with "being your own person." Rather, it refers to a system of thought in American society. It emphasizes the individual, his importance to himself, and embraces the concept that one's personal welfare is not only more important, but seperate and apart from that of one's family, kinsmen, and environment. This individualism is a world view which has been devastating to the welfare of African-Americans. Culturally, scholars have identified Africans as a group-welfare oriented people. African-Americans have been indoctrinated into the opposing dogma of individualism which ironically was used to divide and conquer Africans for centuries. By practicing individualism, instead of our own traditonal Afro-centric mores, we have been unsuccessful in safeguarding the interests of our own people here in this country. Though we may have forgotten our homeless brothers and sisters, as I once did, they have not forgotten us. To banish them from our lives is essentially to destroy ourselves. As the year went on, Eric and I became better acquainted. He would give me some insightful encouragement, and I would buy him a burger. After all, it was only one less snack I didn't need and one more meal necessary for his survival. It was an act so minute I didn't even consider it a sacrifice. By the year's end, he knew my class schedule and would ask me about the progress of specific assignments we had discussed. In May of my sophomore year, I saw Eric for the last time in 1992. He had asked me to bring him any clothes from home I would not use when I returned in the fall. Unfortunately, I had to tell him that I would be studying abroad and did not plan to return until the following spring semester. In August I went to Spain. Throughout my travels in Europe, I encountered many homeless people. I compared each one to Eric, but my conscience forbade me to give them money. I felt pity for their poverty, but no responsibility for their race; as I had for Eric. Richard Wright's sentiments in Native Son hung in my brain: To be white and poor in America is to be stupid, because whites have all the opportunities. Clearly, I wasn't in the United States, but still I found it hard to separate the identities and social opportunities of Europeans from European-Americans. Apparantly, race was more important to me than class, but I could not help feeling distressed about this ambiguous pseudo-bias which prevented my conscience from helping anyone who was homeless. When I returned in January of 1993, I brought Eric a wool winter coat. I desperately wanted to see him because I had missed his company. However, I hoped he would not be there because it would only mean he had been unable to get himself off of the streets. It was shallow of me to want him to still be around since clearly his homelessness was a much more important issue than any conversation we could possibly have. Unfortunately, during my sabbatical nothing substantial had changed in the United States – Eric was still in front of the Wawa when I returned to buy Pringles and Heineken. I spent this past summer here in Philadelphia. When classes ended and I moved to my summer residence, my roommate and I gave Eric two trash bags full of clothes. Finally, I had my chance to spend some real time with him. I found that he knew a great deal about people and human relations. He even got me some in's with a young lady I'd been pursuing. I wish some of my professors were that good. Unfortunately, he disappeared towards the end of the summer. I haven't seen him since I've returned, but I hear he has a job now. I hope this is true, but at the same time understand that hope isn't going to solve any problems. I have come to realize that these things will not change unless we make them change. We cannot leave people in the streets to die from hunger and cold. I would challenge anyone to help just one of the less fortunate. I don't condone giving away money because I firmly believe that is not the answer especially since many of us are only a summer internship away from poverty ourselves. Instead, take a special interest in a specific homeless person. Bring him or her clothing that you no longer wear, or take food from the cafeteria to feed him if you're too poor to buy anything yourself. Joining a club isn't neccesary. But the worst thing you can do is lie to yourself and pretend that you're unable to help. You'd be leaving us all out in the cold. For those European-Americans who came to college to learn how to "do the right thing," here's a perfect place to start. And to my fellow African-Americans, we must see to our own welfare and get away from individualism, because if the rest of America really cared about us, we wouldn't be here to begin with. O.J. Lima is a senior English major from Providence, Rhode Island. Blues for Mr. Charlie will appear alternate Mondays.