“My next blog [post] is going to be about the challenges that homeless people have when it comes to employment because oftentimes they can’t get money to ride the bus to the job and they can’t get lunch money. So for your first week or two, you have a lot of difficulty maintaining that job.”
--Eric Sheptock, a homeless black man who uses twitter, facebook and other online networks to educate about poverty and homelessness.
Listen up. The Daddy grew up in the South. He lived in projects and old houses in essentially black neighborhoods in the inner-cities. When he was about ten, he lived about a block from a hospital. Blacks in the neighborhood didn't trust the doctors, nurses and staff who worked there and only went there in the event of an emergency. The women said they were "fixed;" their "tubes were tied" so they couldn't have children again. The men said they weren't given proper care, and they treated rudely. However, the older men, drunks, and addicts would sit on benches just off the front entrance, drinking cheap liquor, nodding, or sleeping.
The Daddy thought about this hospital which was in his neighborhood but was no part of the neighborhood-- this hospital which, except for a few janitors and cleaning ladies, was staffed totally by white people at the time. He thought about the older black men occupying benches below administrative offices peopled by young white males (No blacks, no females) who were literally climbing up escalators of success. Then he wrote this poem entitled "where i live."
where i live
1
where i live
vicious dogs bark loudly at
smiling couples strolling past then
crawl meekly back under the house when
alpha owner buses home at the end of day.
2
where i live
homeless men with stomachs empty and coats rain-soaked
medicate aching backs, stained teeth and tired bones
with swigs of red Gallos straight from a dirt-stained box while
averting eyes from Gradys, which won't help unless
they drink themselves a minute closer to death.
3
where i live
phrases like "quality care" and "community health" flow like
red Gallos from empty suits high up escalators as
neighbors just below sit on weather-beaten benches
averting their eyes from Gradys, retreating into
Gallo boxes, lifting their heads to an ever darkening sky but
seeing nothing in particular.
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