Where is your Haven?

Right off the bat, I have to say how elated I am to have learned about the concept, history, and daily operations for one of Charlottesville's most exciting social projects.  Being the bleeding heart liberal that I am (yes, I did enjoy reading Dickens' fiction as a child), the social justice takes one of the higher ranks on my list of "Things I really care about" - right next to purity of art and loving everyone for who they are.  How does this all fit into Canterbury and this blog that, by its title, is the Canter Blog; so you would think that everything on here would have to do with Canterbury.  What we're up to; what our weeks look like, etc.  All sort of existential questions in their own right. 

Well, I'll tell you.  This week, we had a wonderfully thought-provoking visit and talk from a Haven representative (Stephen) who told us so much about a community in Charlottesville that finds itself brutally marginalized by many of us.  We've all been there, walking down the Corner or the Downtown Mall when a homeless person walks up and asks for a dollar; or maybe they just call to you as they rest their weary backs against brick walls that, in winter are frigid, unforgiving and in summer, a vertical frying pan.  I'm sure at some point, we've all just passed by without so much of a concern, our ears glued into our iPods, Blackberries, or internet phones, rocking out to the latest hit from Katy Perry or reminiscing about the good ole days when Keith Richards would take your head off with his runs.  Two feet later, after telling that person that no, we don't have any cash, we either drop it into the case of an aspiring fiddle player or meet an old friend for drinks at The Nook, where we tip in cash.  Too often, I hear the argument: "Oh, never give a homeless person cash; they're just going to waste it on booze or something that's not food."  And well, while that may be true, the act of not acknowledging, of ignoring another human being because of social conventions is where the problem begins.  Maybe you don't want to give that woman or man cash.  And that's fine.  But what's worse is not conceding their existence, of pretending that this person is merely part of the scenery; that oh, it's some-one else's problem. And it is.  It's the problem that the Haven, at First and Market Streets, seeks to address.

This organization, funded by the Thomas Jefferson Area Coalition for the Homeless, provides a day shelter for many of Charlottesville's homeless.  From the time they open their doors at 7am until they close them again at 5pm, Haven staff care for a group of people who have no other place to turn.  They're in need of a support system, found at this shelter.  Stephen, the Haven representative who visited Canterbury had many wonderful, eye-opening stories to tell; but maybe the ones that stuck with me the longest were how, when you begin to look around you, you'll notice an entirely different citizenry that inhabits Charlottesville: a citizenry that, comprised of people from all walks of life, remains invisible until you look for them; and how, when you get to know them, these people are just that - they're people.  There individuals who have stories to tell.  For me, that's the first, most important step to addressing this issue.  We have to realize that these people are people too and that they have stories to tell. 

Stephen also went on to talk about how, when you're homeless and trying to support yourself, the dynamic between you and the world changes.  No longer do you have this concept of exterior versus interior, of public spaces versus private ones.  Everything is exterior and public.  He made the point that you suddenly find yourself in a position where simple, daily activities (such as using the restroom and sleeping) transform into things that you never thought of before into realities that thrust themselves into the forefront of your mind. 

Prior to this Wednesday, I also didn't know that the mean time for homelessness is approximately 6 months.  Just 6 months.  That's astounding, because sometimes I think we tend to believe that once you're homeless you spend the rest of your life there; that it's a sort of "point of no return," which it's not, at all.  There's still hope even after you've found yourself at rock-bottom.  So the final thing to think about, if we're interested in changing our relationship with Charlottesville's homeless population, is to deconstruct the way we think about them and realize that they're also people, just normally people who have fallen down on their luck.