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machado: why do the homeless make us uncomfortable?

maybe we are asking all the wrong questions when it comes to people who live outside.

by lisa machado

jul 5 2021

6 minute read

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shift: why do the homeless make us uncomfortable?

estimates put those experiencing homelessness in toronto each night between 10,000 to 35,000 people. getty

“hey buddy, you wanna go to the hospital?”

“buddy” was the guy who had been sitting on a bench in the park across from my house for about a week.

his head was wrapped in what looked like the remnants of a torn beige woollen sweater, the dingy curly threads hung down his forehead and covered his ears. he had a dented red bull can strapped to his left hand with duct tape, and the rest of the sweater wound loosely around his right arm, like a thick cast. he was engaged in a lively conversation with his hands, nodding and smiling at each, asking the red bull hand in a hoarse voice, “what do you think?” listening intently, and then asking the wool-covered right hand, “why?”

that day, the temperature hit 30 degrees celsius, with an unforgiving sun. and yet the man sat on the bench from morning until night, clothed in a long sleeved cotton shirt that looked like it once might have been orange, heavy black pants — the kind that construction workers wear — and ragged brown winter boots.

the guy asking about the hospital was a masked paramedic.

“it seems one of your neighbours is worried about you. you okay?” his voice was a little too loud, given that he stood barely an arm’s length away from the man. he said he was okay.

“alright, have a good day then — stay hydrated,” and with that, the paramedic climbed back into the ambulance, turned off the flashing lights and drove away.

that scene — and conversation — was repeated four more times over the next three hours with different paramedics and two teams of firefighters.

call an ambulance once, and that could be taken as concern for a fellow citizen. three more calls in just a few hours, and i began to wonder which of our neighbours was hoping to have him removed. it didn’t take long to hear the twitters of complaints lobbed between houses across balconies and tiny front yards about the rambling man.

let’s be honest. people like him make us nervous and uncomfortable. they can be unpredictable, sometimes dangerous, they can hurt others, damage property or just do weird things — a friend who lives in the heart of downtown toronto often tells a story of a young woman who had been living in a condo doorway for months, spotted combing her pubic hair in a community park fountain.

but our feelings around those who live outside is more than just discomfort.

according to sara rankin, founder of the homeless rights advocacy project, studies have shown that we are, in fact, scared of the poor.

“when we are confronted with evidence of visible poverty or human desperation, we react with higher rates of fear, disgust and even anger than when we are exposed to any other marginalized trait — including traits historically associated with discrimination, like race or gender,” she writes in an oped for the idaho statesman . “we firmly want visible poverty to remain private. no wonder homelessness prompts many of us to shut down. or blow up.”

this thing we have about hiding poverty, says rankin, who also teaches at the seattle university school of law, translates into laws that so tightly regulate what people experiencing homelessness can do — where they sit or stand, sleep and get food — that they can barely survive without breaking these laws. take sleeping, a basic biological necessity, for example. sleep in a toronto park during the hours of midnight and 5:30 a.m. — when everyone else is sleeping — and you risk a visit from a by-law officer or police telling you to pack up and move along.

these are rules, rankin says, that “help to make already vulnerable people even more resistant to recovery.”

perhaps some of our fear also comes from the frightening realization that the man on the bench with the wool on his head, talking to an empty can taped to his arm could just as easily be any one of us. the reasons we aren’t him comes down to a thousand random — and not-so-random — things like where we grew up, who believed in us, how much money we had/have, our health, who our friends were/are, luck, the opportunities we have, choices we have made and yes, our race — to name only a few.

one way we combat this discomfort is to believe that only bad people find themselves living outside, says u.s.-based homeless activist kylyssa shay , despite the fact that many people “are only one illness and several paycheques away from homelessness.”

in canada, according to a 2016 report by homeless hub , 85,000 canadians are homeless in some way. in toronto, more than 10,000 people are homeless each night, says advocacy organization fred victor , although the homeless hub puts this number at more than 35,000 . these are people who, as a result of behavioural, mental, cognitive or physical challenges, a lack of affordable housing, racism and discrimination, sleep outside, much to the ire of those who say they put communities at risk, threaten the safety of other park users and leave litter, hazardous materials and human waste behind.

advocates like friends of st. james park , consider parks to be public spaces in which everyone is welcome, including those without homes, as long as they respect other users and cause no harm to the park. it’s a tough sell though, especially in established neighbourhoods whose residents worry that people who wear sweaters on their heads in a heat wave threaten housing values and break up the well-to-do vibe.

“we basically have no strategies for people like him,” said a retired friend of mine, after commenting on how annoying it must be to have strange people repeatedly yelling things at you and waking you up, when you all you are doing is sitting in a park not bothering anyone. we wondered why the paramedics hadn’t offered water, or asked for his name and talked about how he got there and where he came from.

by the time the fourth ambulance arrived, lights flashing, dramatically perching on the sidewalk, a small crowd had gathered a few feet away. a woman sitting on the grass wondered out loud how many times paramedics were going to ask the man if he wants to go to the hospital. another guy with his kids grumbled something about how people can’t just live in a park. my daughter rolled her eyes.

“the issue isn’t whether or not a person should be allowed to live in a park,” she said, gesturing to the street. “the paramedics should be able to assess the situation. he may not want medical help, but he clearly needs something.”

perhaps all of this is yet another case supporting the use of trained mental health first responders when paramedics answer calls that straddle both medical and mental health issues. or maybe, like rankin suggests, we need to figure out a new way of supporting people who live outside that doesn’t involve rules and laws that make it difficult for them to survive. quite possibly, my daughter has it right — maybe we are asking the wrong question. instead of wasting time debating whether or not people who live outside belong in public parks and on benches, we should be taking a closer look at why they are there, whether or not we are doing all we can do to provide safe, respectful alternatives, and adequate opportunities for permanent housing.

despite the constant interruptions, by the time the sun set that evening, the man had dozed off with his chin on his chest. and as i walked the dogs past him, i could hear him humming, tapping his fingers on a few bottles of water and a box of granola bars that someone had left for him.

lisa machado is executive producer of healthing.ca

this story originally appeared in the healthing weekender. to subscribe, click here.

lisa machado

lisa machado began her journalism career as a financial reporter with investor's digest and then rogers media. after a few years editing and writing for a financial magazine, she tried her hand at custom publishing and then left to launch a canadian women's magazine with a colleague. after being diagnosed with a rare blood cancer, lisa founded the canadian cml network and shifted her focus to healthcare advocacy and education.

machado: why do the homeless make us uncomfortable?

maybe we are asking all the wrong questions when it comes to people who live outside.

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machado: why do the homeless make us uncomfortable?

maybe we are asking all the wrong questions when it comes to people who live outside.

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