I wasn't sure why We were still driving around downtown Birmingham. We’d just visited 16th street Baptist church and were aimlessly driving up and down streets when a man on the sidewalk caught our attention. He was struggling with two of those clear plastic bags you put comforters in, which appeared to contain everything the man owned. We parked the car on the side of the street and asked the man if he needed help. He asked if we could grab his other bag for him. I hopped out of the car with my camera slung over my shoulder. Before the man had even told me his name he said: “Take my picture. Tell my story.” I took his picture. Here is his story.
Eric, as I found to be his name, is 63 years old. He is a Detroit native. He didn’t tell us how he ended up in Birmingham, but had been on the streets for a few years now. Eric told us he liked to sing and wasted no time before he began to sing “How Great Thou Art” with all he could muster. We asked Eric how he ended up homeless. He shared with us he had been in pharmacy school in his 20’s and somehow got hooked onto pills(I can't remember the reason he told us). The addiction took over his life. He also told us part of the reason he couldn’t get off the streets was he had been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder a few decades ago. While I'm not sure of Eric’s exact diagnosis, Bipolar disorder can make it extremely difficult to hold down a job and complete everyday tasks, especially if the symptoms aren't managed with the aid of professional help.
A good many (25%) of homeless men and women share Eric’s plight of mental illness. After Deinstitutionalization in the late 20th century, many people suffering from mental illness ended up homeless or in prison. Sadly, for people like Eric, one of the few ways they can receive mental health care on a somewhat regular basis is to be incarcerated. Organizations who provide mental healthcare for homeless people are not easy to come by, and are not always located near other resources for people suffering through homelessness. Someone like Eric might have to decide between getting a hot meal and getting care for their mental illness. Although Eric had some medications on hand to take at the time we met him, he might not always have access, and many people in his position do not have access at all.
Of course like many systemic issues, a majority of the problem is rooted in individuals like you and I. We have to end the stigma around mental health. We have to end the stigma around poverty. We have to end the stigma around homelessness. People with mental illnesses are not broken. They are suffering from a condition, which many times can be managed through mental healthcare. They may have difficulties and disabilities, but they also have dreams and stories. People struggling through poverty are not always lazy, in fact, laziness is seldom the cause of poverty. There are systems set in place that simply do not work. Government assistance is set up to keep people poor instead of to help lift them up out poverty. Access to quality education favors those who have already “made it”. Just about every homeless person I know works or is looking for a job. Turns out it’s hard to get hired when you don’t have an address, or an ID, or reliable transportation, or access to simple things like a shower and a place to wash clothes.
These systems which keep people down or hidden away won’t change until we demand them to be changed. It’s going to take us caring. These people are not problems– they are people going through problems. There has to be more than just talk and opinions on these issues. There has to be action. We can’t sit here and say we care about a certain group of people then turn around and continue to exclude them from our lives. Until we welcome people struggling with mental illness and poverty as equals, as neighbors, as friends, as brothers, and as sisters– there won’t be change. Until we allow them to change us there will be no change. We have to create in our lives a place for them to belong.
There has to be room in our hearts to listen to the stories of people like my friend Reese, who lives in a tent off Ponce de Leon in Atlanta. He was diagnosed with PTSD at a young age after his sister blew her head off right in front of him with a shotgun. He said her blood and brains flew onto his face. He has since been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder as well, and sometimes sells his body for sex in order to have enough money to make the decision between being able to wash his clothes or getting something to eat. We have to listen to the stories of people like Eric, who may struggle with his illness, and doesn't have a place to lie his head at night, yet he still carries around a copy of the Bible and has memorized entire Psalms (which he recites to whoever will sit and listen). Acknowledging the humanity in others is part of what keeps us human.
Before we left, Eric asked us to pray with him. We put our hands on him and prayed. After we finished praying he told us we just made him rich. What he valued was the simple connection between God and his fellow man. What Eric wanted was presence of God found where two or more are gathered in His name.
The entire time we were with Eric it had been raining ever so slightly. As we turned to leave the rain began to pick up. We asked him where he was going to stay tonight. With a smile on his face he replied: “Right here in the rain.” He smiled and waved at us as we walked away. May we all commit to stay “right here in the rain” with one another.