Under the Bridge

By Amberly Choate

            You pass by homeless people on the street everyday. Whether you’re on your way to work, school, or home you are very likely to see someone standing on the corner with a sign in their hands. By instinct you look the other way, roll up your windows, and lock your doors. We’re all guilty of it.

            As a society we feel that the homeless are an unsightly group of people. Places like KARM and the VMC are threatened of being shut down in order to ‘clean up our city’.  In our world the word ‘homeless’ has become synonymous with alcoholic, murderer, robber, and rapist. We see them as a threat to our community but we never stop to think about the lives of these people and the circumstances that have put them in these positions.

 

I know some of these people personally and talking to them has taught me that life is a collection of choices. Some good, some bad, some that we aren’t able to control, and some that we are.

             I met a woman named Susan who lived outside of KARM in downtown Knoxville for years before finally getting accepted into the shelter. Suzanne is a paraplegic veteran who lost both of her legs in her years of service. When Suzanne's husband passed away she had no means of paying her bills or her house payment. Not only did Suzanne lose her husband, she also lost her house and the life she had known for many years. She slipped through the cracks in society and was left with no one and nothing to call her own. Suzanne began to move from state to state hoping to find a shelter that would accept her, settling in Knoxville for a short time. She no longer knows what it’s like to have a place to call home and is afraid to settle down in fear of losing everything once again. Suzanne is seventy years old and is constantly exposed to the dangers of living on the streets. She proudly served our country for many years but now receives little to no help from the VA.  Suzanne is too old and too disabled to be hired by anyone and can’t support herself.

            My mother met a man who was also living under this bridge. This man had nothing, not even a pair of socks, to call his own. All he could see in himself was worthlessness. He thought of himself as scum and no longer had a reason in his mind to live. Our society has imposed this stigma on this man. We have deemed him worthy of nothing and we push him aside like he is complete and utter trash. I don’t know this man. I don’t know his name. I have no idea why he was living under this bridge. But I do know that this man is not worthless and that even though he may have made choices in his life that put him in this situation, he deserves more than the hateful words that society throws at him.

            And then there’s Abby. When we met Abby she was sixth months old. Her pregnant mother wheeled her around in an old stroller underneath the bridge. She was dirty and her clothes were tattered. Abby’s choices had been made for her. She was already suffering drug withdrawals in the short time she had been alive. Under this bridge, where broken bottles lay and trash is thrown, was the only home she had ever known. She would grow up only hearing about  how worthless she was. Her mother made choices that led her to a life under this bridge and Abby was left to suffer the consequences.

            Abby was fostered by my aunt and uncle from October of 2015 until December of 2016. And although she and her mother are now off of the streets and in a home, there are very real chances that Abby will one day end up back under that bridge. Surrounded by garbage she will begin to think that she, herself, is nothing but trash on the side of the road just like many of  the other people there do. There are other kids under this bridge too. Most of them won’t ever have anyone tell them that they are loved, or special, or worth something. They’ll become prisoner to this bridge and the unfortunate stereotypes that come along with being homeless.

  The people under this bridge know what they have done to get them there and the majority of them will own up to their wrong-doings. So why should we constantly persecute them while knowing nothing about them? Not all of them are interested in taking your money, stealing from you, or hurting you. They are just people. People that have been in the wrong place at the wrong time and made decisions without thinking them through. Some people have done nothing to deserve being dealt the cards of homelessness but are still left to suffer.

            Cars rush by under this bridge as the people try to walk from one side of the street to the other. I have seen these cars speed up as someone tries to cross the road, threatening to hit them. Words like ‘scum’ are plastered under this bridge serving as a constant reminder to these people of what the world sees them as. Back behind this bridge are camps that people have set up as their homes and once you see this you realize something; these people aren’t homeless at all. This bridge and these shelters have become home to these people. They are a family and depend on each other, something I would have never imagined.

 The fact of the matter is that we never know if something is going to happen that could put us and our families in these same situations. Life is a collection of choices. Some good, some bad, some that we aren’t able to control, and some that we are.

 It doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor, young or old, male or female, or what your race or religion is, you never know what life's going to throw you, and that bridge and the people who live under it are constant reminder of that.

            So next time you pass by a homeless person on the road, don’t just assume they’re an old drunk who never worked a day in their life. That person might be someone like my Abby who wasn’t given much of a chance to have a life that was any different. And tonight when you go home to a hot shower and a warm bed just remember that there are people just miles from us  who will bathe in a cold creek and sleep in a bed of broken glass believing that they have no more worth than the old crumpled up trash that lies next to their heads.