Changing the Conversation

On Tuesday January 27th, as the blizzard went on and most were inside keeping warm, I was reflecting on Jeff’s words and decided to take a walk in the snow. This is what I found.

Monday night during winter storm Juno, in the shadow of one of Boston’s wealthiest neighborhoods, someone stayed behind this dumpster.

In cities and towns around the country, individuals and families seeking shelter and safety out of sight, down alleyways, in abandoned buildings and tunnels, under bridges, on crates in drainage pipes, on our sidewalks and at our very feet have become commonplace. We call this “homelessness,” yet this term is empty because it does not transpose onto our hearts the reality of suffering and resilience that take place. Empathy requires context.

Over a year ago I worked with a research group that had secured NIH funding to better understand the 30-day readmission rates at minority-serving hospitals across the country. I interviewed Chief Quality Officers, Chief Medical Officers, case mangers, and others in public, private, and teaching hospitals with a high minority patient population.

Cambridge, Massachusetts. December 21, 2014. The first day of winter. The longest night of the year.

Last Friday I participated in the annual Homeless Memorial Service at the Church on the Hill in Boston. Prayers were said, songs sung, silences held, and names read. To be exact, we read 98 names—the names of people who died in Boston over the past year while experiencing homelessness. In addition to those 98 names, the audience added a dozen more in the silent space between readings. For each name, we lit a candle.

It is not news that housing remains out of reach for millions of Americans, including many working parents and their children. Currently, 3.3 million American workers earn minimum wage or less, and there is no place in our entire country in which a family supported by a parent working full-time and earning minimum wage can afford to pay market rent for even a one-bedroom apartment.