The Bronx: A Short Story

For winter the mayor is moving the deprived off the streets and into the hospital. “The New York Civil Liberties Union is watchful. They question whether the rights of these people who live in our parks and doorways are being violated by involuntary hospitalization.” “I think the mayor’s notation is humane, but I fear it is something else as well. Raw humanity offends our sensibilities. We want to protect ourselves from an awareness of rags with voices that make no sense and scream forth in inarticulate rage. We do not wish to be reminded of the tentative state of our own well-being and sanity. And so, the troublesome presence is removed from the awareness of the electorate.” She agrees with the mayor, but sees a fault; we just want the poor out of the way, out of the streets. We want to get them out of our sight so that can stop bothering

It is a typical summer day in Los Angeles, California. The temperature is approximately ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit; hot enough to form glaring mirages across the roads that form West Hollywood. However, I am able to escape the heat by virtue of the brand new Tesla Model X that is enclosing my family and I; shielding us from the harsh summer heat and blasting sweet, sweet air into our flushed faces. However, as we continue on our way through the greater LA metro, one thing becomes extremely obvious: there are many that are not so fortunate. As we pass the infamous Skid Row, I find myself taking notice of the fact that not only are there are multitudes of homeless scattered throughout underpasses and alleyways, but that it is evident that

Chapter 1, “Intimate Apartheid”, introduces one to the group of homeless people living on Edgewater Blvd. It dives into the racialized micro-geography of homeless encampments and how segregation plays a key role within the lumpen. However, the authors do reveal moments where the racial hierarchy is trumped by the “moral economy” of street life.

Always, I was told from parents and elders that anyone can achieve their dreams through arduous work and dedication. Surprisingly, I hadn’t pondered this until I observed a shivering homeless person standing at the corner asking for help on one snowy, frosty winter day. This affected my life greatly. On the way, I just started thinking about the life of homeless people and how they are not fortunate enough to get their own place to live, their choice of delicious food to eat and several other amenities that we all enjoy in our everyday lives. An incident, like this, sparked an enthusiastic sense of compassion and empathy in me. Along with my family, I started thinking deeply and my thoughts to help the homeless expanded to other areas and I wanted to start helping the community around me as much as possible.

The essay, On Compassion By Barbara Lazear Ascher, addresses the subject by going beyond the origin and reasoning for compassion. She interprets this by examining characteristics of homelessness and ways to empathize with it in the city of New York, her home. The use of rhetorical devices allows the author to adequately teach readers the ideas and essence of compassion. Ascher’s use of organization, figurative language, and ethos allows the application of philosophy and sentiment to question our articulation of the subject.

For Father’s Day this past year my family and I treated our Dad to a Houston Astros baseball game. The game was held at Minute Maid Park in the heart of Downtown Houston. We were running late for the game and it began to rain. While driving around I witnessed more homeless people on the streets than ever. As we walked to the stadium after parking, I could not help but think about each of their (the homeless) situation. It was daunting to me that they were spending a holiday alone and it was a norm for them. Homeless people are often not given the time of day by everyday citizens. Chris Hadfield explains that when a problem exists, human nature causes us to bolt from the situation rather than approach it immediately (Hadfield 55). Currently (2016) there are approximately two million Houstonians (Suburban Stats) and of those, more than 5,000 citizens are homeless (Homeless Houston). It is easy to forget about the homeless because they are neglected from society. If homeless people were given a purpose, then they would not be occupying space on the streets.

Today's world is filled with both great tragedy and abundant joy. In a densely populated metropolis like New York City, on a quick walk down a street you encounter homeless people walking among the most prosperous. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten the prosperous person will trudge straight past the one in need without a second thought. A serious problem arises when this happens continually. The problem worsens when you enter a different neighborhood and the well-to-do are far from sight. Many neighborhoods are inhabited only by the most hopeless of poverty - ridden people while others downtown or across the park do not care, or are glad to be separated from them. Such is the problem in New York City today and in Mott Haven in Jonathan

Eric Tang’s Unsettled is an ethnographic account of Cambodian refugees in the Bronx, New York that evokes a nuanced understanding of the refugee experience. Unlike many other ethnographies, Tang’s work centers around one individual named Ra Pronh, a fifty year old woman who survived the Cambodian genocide and has lived as a refugee for most of her life. The bulk of his work draws upon two main sources: Tang’s notes that are gathered from his work as a community organizer in refugee neighborhoods and his interviews with Ra Pronh over a three year time period. Throughout his interviews with Ra, Tang often encountered a language barrier with her. There were times where Ra’s children would translate her words from Khmer to English for Tang to

According to the state of New York, approximately thirty thousand families were living at shelters in 2012. I am not ashamed to say that my family and I were included in those statistics. For the past three years, the percentage of families in shelters around New York City have increased. Growing up in The Bronx was extremely challenging for adolescents due to the amount of drugs and crime. Many families are receiving help from the city and still can not afford housing or food. Homelessness has also increased, creating every corner a new home. Although I have faced countless issues growing up, I have been taught an infinite amount of lessons. I have learned that failure is not always a bad thing in life, achievements include hard work and

American people want to be greater, richer, and more powerful than everyone else. When one sees a homeless person sitting on the street, he may ask you for money to buy food. As ignorant as most Americans are today, we question will they really spend that money on food, but some of us are generous enough to give a donation anyway. Others would tell them to get a job. As I walk down Grace Street to get to class some days, I get asked by multiple homeless people if I could “help them out.” In Richmond, VA, Phil Riggan, did an interview with several of homeless people. He found out that they are just like the rest of us. Homeless people aren’t usually viewed as people; they’re commonly just known as “homeless”. They are viewed as “worthless, nuisances, waste of space, crazy, drug addicts, drunkards, criminals, liars, bums, and burdens of society” (Riggan 6). Phil’s study was to “prevent, reduce and end homelessness by facilitating creative solutions through the collaboration, coordination and cooperation of regional resources and services” (Riggan 8). Homeless people are still human. As we all need shelter, food, and emotional support, so do they. The Homeless Homes Project was started by Gregory Kloehn, an artist, that turned trash into mobile homes. The Homeless Homes Project was to diminish money’s use in building homes for the homeless population. The

Over half of a million people within the United States are homeless, the largest part of that group belonging to the famed and familiar city: Los Angeles. But why is it that the majority of Americans seem so unaffected by the penniless, impoverished souls harboring the areas they often visit? It was once delivered by the famed businessman and religious leader, Joseph B. Wirthlin, in an address named "Live in Thanksgiving Daily" that "The more often we the see things around us -- even the beautiful and wonderful -- the more they become invisible to us" (Wirthlin 11). The essence of Wirthlin’s wise words is that because we see certain things so often, we become desensitized and accustomed to them, leading us to acknowledge them less and less. This however, serves as a poor excuse when explaining our lack of effort in attacking and solving the social issues present in homelessness. In today’s day and age, individuals often adapt the mindset of: “Your problem, you deal with it.” But how are these human beings, who have aspirations and dreams just like you and me (that are now crushed), are supposed to just “deal” with living without a penny to their names with no possibility of finding any source of income? How are these people supposed to just “deal” with the paralyzing fear and helplessness they experience every night before they lie down on the cold, hard concrete floor of a dingy alley that they’re forced to call home for the night? Of course, they don’t. Well, more

Constantly overwhelmed with our hectic lives, people ignore their surroundings; however, when we realize the help society needs from those who already own the necessities, we bring a state of “peace.” I have numerous times tried to avoid eye contact with a “homeless” person. Similar to the author, I have wanted to get out of the car and help these people; however, not wanting to put myself in peril, I walked away. The person may not have a place to go. Similar to Kingsolver, I could become a “home” to someone when I “take them in,” take the “risk,” or “get

Within the streets of New York you'll see many homeless people living on the streets with no place to go and no food to eat. Too many families and

As he crouched in the corner of the metro car, embarrassed and demeaned, I stared, crying. Rather than taking the man to a hospital to treat the obviously infected, festering welts that plagued his skin, the man’s pus infested abscesses spurred passengers to flee our metro car to avoid his pungent BO. I wanted to assist him, but anxiety from observing other homeless people negatively react to help paralyzed me. I was stuck, fixated on the man. All I could do as I watched people treat this homeless man like a pariah, was think.

One could call it cliche, but just like any other day, I was walking down to my favorite spot for begging, seeing the crumbing houses of green, magenta, and blue, when I noticed how busy the streets were. Instead of the usual hardened brown skin tones that I was used too, I saw shades: shades of white, light brown, and black. Back then, I had no idea who they were or what they were doing, but I know now that it was simply tourism, doing little to help my country. Doing what a homeless boy would do for money, I looked as helpless as possible. Finally, one of the white men noticed me, smiled, and headed my way.