I was leaving the grocery store recently when I noticed a man panhandling outside. I usually stop and talk to the men or women I see doing this to see if they are homeless - usually because I can offer some information if they want it, a night in a shelter, a phone number, a connection of sorts. Sometimes they just want a buck, and I have no problem with that either, but I generally try to approach it with the goal of a longer term solution.
I was sitting on the curb talking with the guy about bus routes and shelter options when another shopper came up and handed me a couple dollars, quietly said good luck and walked away.
At first I was taken aback. I immediately thought I must look like shit and then almost said oh, hey, wait, I'm not homeless but I thought that might be an affront to the guy I was talking to, so I simply turned and handed him the money. He smiled and took it and mentioned something about how maybe I could hang out a bit longer.
As I left I was struck by the reactions that brought up in me - a sense of self-consciousness, a smidge of unintended fraud, and above all, the need to explain that I am not what you were thinking. Talk about some heavy lifting in those moments, coming from someone who purportedly spends her time and passion and intellect focused on the issue, on raising awareness to it, to proving that homelessness can look like any of us.
And yet so internally quick to defend that I am not.
It bothered me. Or better said, I bothered me. For practical reasons my reaction was normal, but my need to defend disappointed me. What makes me different? A roof, sure, but otherwise, we share skin and bone and love and fear. A choice here or there, certainly, but any of us can take a wrong turn and find ourselves lost. A battle lost, a lover scorned, a system broken.
We are all them, because we are all us. Next time, I'll just say thank you.