Nickel, Dime or Dollar ( A #poem for Black History Month)
What I am going to talk about right now
May be very controversial for some
None the less
The topic of today’s discussion is
The homeless minority
You see
I was on the train a week ago
Coming home from work
Tired
Not looking forward to the night shift I have to come back to after working a day shift
Bag heavy with books
And the weight of my worries
It sitting on the seat next to me
Like the person it was
Blasting away my thoughts
With metal no doubt
My usual demeanor
When this white woman
Without asking
Proceeded to move my bag
Now
Before saying what I wanted to really
I spoke with my gestures and my facial expression instead
Looked at her like so many have looked at me
As if to be disgusted by the colour of my skin
Or my weight
Grabbed my bag as if to say her intent was to steal it
And said to her
Instead
“I’m sorry did you want this seat?”
“Yes,” She said
She sad there beside me
Perched at the edge
Because
It was not like the both of us could fit
She is not thin after all
But in my mind
With all the profanities of “how rude and manner less, she could have just ASKED!”
I also said she’s tired
And in my Jamaican tone said
“She can katch”
And as I usually do
When my mind spirals out of control
I observe
Observe for the rest of the ride on the train
On the bus
For the next day
And the next days to come
Because these small insignificant moments to some
Becomes scorched in my memory
As if with heat from the sun
I observe the interactions of others
On my next ride on the train and the bus
So a week later
It’s not me
It’s an elderly black man
On the bus
Who asks the white man
Who is tired
With a suitcase
In front of an empty seat
To “excuse me please”
I would like to sit there
The white man sits there
Without music
And ignores him
Again the black man says
“Excuse me can I sit down”
And the white man continues to
Act
As if he cannot hear
The black man says
“sir can you move your bag”
And the white man says
“Why it’s not like you can fit there”
The black man said
“I’ll try” and took the seat anyway
The white man sat there and muttered many profanities and slanders under his breath
That even I who stood near the door
Could hear
He could not see the black man was tired
And literally
Just wanted to “katch”
But instead worried about the seat in front of which he had
His suitcase
That sat comfortably on the wheels
It came with
That when he got off
He would not have to lift
But drag
Was not taking
So what does this have to do with homeless minority people?
So you see
There are many homeless people in the city of Toronto
Much of them
Visibly white
There are some
Minorities
But at first glance most are visibly white
And when I see
A minority begging for change
I can hear
The rejection
And on top of it humiliation
Of “why does he just not get a job?”
Or “sorry can’t help you”
Or “he’s scary..crazy.. dirty” and the like.
This in particular to a well known black homeless man
I’ve seen this man many times over
For many years in the subway and on the inner city streets
But only ever once
Heard him scream at a person using profanity
For not sparing change
And that person just happened to be my white friend
To whom this black homeless man in frustration called a “Nigger”
So taken aback, we laughed it off when he was gone
And then to think about the meaning of this word
For some like myself who say that this word
In it’s truest form means
“ignorance”
To say it in this context, is not a lie
Human beings are ignorant little shits
And when I think back
I have been ignorant
Ignoring all the things that have been said to me by a lot of homeless whites
Calling me out of my name
When not providing change
Not providing them with means to feed addiction
And just to be clear
In my comparison trip in travel to the states
It is rare that in Canada
That people are homeless completely by circumstance
In the states you find many who have liquidated their funds in medical bills to sort the illness
The system has helped provide. There, if you can’t pay and you don’t have insurance you’re in for a wild ride for an infected wound you sustained at work. Get that 401K and pay that 500+ a month for the little they will cover.
In Canada this is not really the case
Yes there are those that have severe, treatment resistant mental illness
Or have committed so much crime that they can no longer attain anything to sustain themselves
But many, even my brothers have addictions
And even my brothers with addiction I deny
Why?
Many of my brothers and sisters with children living in poverty receive OW
And if you don’t know the term it’s Ontario Works
And for those of you who prefer the more derogatory word… Welfare
Many white people I know and most people who don’t understand how that system works and that should they lose their job someday may be in need of this system.
Some of these white people on the street refuse to receive OW
And when you ask why they say “I’m not about getting money from the man” and “I refuse to take tax payers money.” And in addition refuse to comply with the limitations and restrictions put in place on how this money is spent
In turn
They maintain the feeling of superiority that “no one is giving me anything”
And maintain the “right” to call me out of my name as I walk by their sign that says “I’m hungry” when they turn down my offer to actually buy them food.
Well I’ve got news for you, there is no shame in an honest living, I have to make one
There is no shame in honest giving at that point I deny none
I don’t have a choice, I pay taxes too and who knows someday I may be on the receiving end
Not working but still getting paid on OW when I lose my job or acquire a disability from my job
Either fighting with the public or lifting the dead onto a sliding bed in the fridge
I have people at home to take care of sir
You don’t want to take money from the man or from taxpayer dollars?
But why?
Every two weeks there is a whole wad of my money that I don’t have the chance to miss or go home with
But you’d rather the little I have in my pocket, I do get to keep that would short change my families dinner instead
© Marchristen, 2015.
