Silence

Last night I participated in a discussion group about homelessness and affordable housing. Along with the professionals from the homeless sector, the attendees were individuals from a community in the city, looking to 'do something' about homelessness.

At one point, a woman commented that the young guys she talks to on worksites all say how dangerous the shelters are. How they fear for their lives.

"I take exception to your comment," I told her. "In the 47+ years our agency has been in existence, we have had one death from violence. And that was a fight that went wrong. Our mission is to create a safe place for people who do not have a home of their own. And we do it, 365 days of the year, 24 hours a day. Those homeless individuals who have been killed have been killed on our streets, in our parks, along our riverbanks. They have been killed by other citizens, some of whom are homeless, many of whom aren't."

"I didn't mean to imply the shelters are unsafe," she replied. "I was just repeating what these guys say. Mostly it's around the mentally disturbed people they encounter. They scare everyone. Why, just the other day, my husband and I were stopped at a red light and this crazy woman came over and started pounding on our car windows. That was terrifying."

"Yes, it is terrifying when those things happen," I replied. "What is even more terrifying is that we as a society have not risen up in arms. We have not screamed out loud at our politicians to help. We have not insisted that we create safe harbour for these individuals for whom mental disease has decimated their capacity to care for themselves. As a shelter, we do not care for these individuals because we believe they belong in a homeless shelter. We care for them because there is no other agency that will take them. There is no other place for them to go. And that is wrong."

It is wrong. Emergency homeless shelters are not designed to care for the profoundly mentally ill. We are not equipped to handle the complexity of their needs. All we can do is our best. And every day, we struggle to do our best in a situation where we cannot deliver the help people need and deserve.

It is estimated that sixty percent of all homeless individuals have some form of mental health issue. From mild depression to the profoundly serious. Schizophrenia. Bi-polar. Antisocial personality disorder. There are a host of labels to apply against the disorders that affect these individuals. And, there are a host of labels to apply against a social service system and a government that continues to hold back support and help that will make a real difference in these individuals lives. But we never apply those labels. We never hold our governments accountable. We never stand up as a society and say, "This is wrong. Let's do something. Now. Today. Not tomorrow. But right now."

Sure, we are doing some things. "Let's give them a home," proponents of the Housing First model state. "Let's get them housed first and then give them the help they need."

And that is a great idea. But what about the individuals who simply cannot support themselves?

What about the 65 year old woman who wears diapers to control her incontinence? She doesn't change them herself. Our staff do that. She sits in a corner all day. Talking to herself. Staff have to ensure she showers at least once a week. She doesn't like taking a shower. She doesn't like the feeling of the water against her skin. And she doesn't like taking her clothes off. We are a community setting. Our clients live communally. She has to have a shower for her own well-being and so she doesn't offend the olfactory glands of those around her. And so, they cajole her, coerce her, carry her into the shower and get her cleaned up whenever they can.

Our staff aren't mental health care-givers. Our mandate is not to care for mental health patients. Our mandate is to provide shelter to the homeless. This woman is homeless. There is no where else for her to go. No one else to provide her care. So we do. The best we can.

And what about the 50 year old man who has resorted to alcohol as a way to make himself feel better. He doesn't feel better. He's got a mental disorder. The alcohol does help him stay numb and compliant -- it also means he is in a constant state of inebriation, on a fast downhill slide with destiny. He needs continuous care. Continuous supervision to ensure he takes the drugs that will control his schizophrenia. He needs to be observed constantly to make sure he doesn't harm himself. While it would be nice to think a home of his own would cure all of that, the truth is, he isn't capable of maintaining himself in a home of his own. He needs help beyond the level of our care. But, no one else will take him. No one else will provide him with care.

Across Canada and the US, there are thousands upon thousands of people with mental health issues roaming our streets and alleys. They wind up in shelters. They wind up in rivers. They wind up in morgues.

And still we stay silent.

Yes, it is shocking that a young, healthy man ends up homeless. It's tragic that he has to live in a shelter while he stock piles enough cash to find a place to live -- that's if he can ever stockpile up enough cash to pay the first and last month's rents that have skyrocketed with the soaring skylines of our cities growing up.

Shocking too is the woman fleeing her abusive partner who comes in out of the storm to find shelter until she can get back on her feet again. She will get back on her feet and carry on. Somehow. She has the mental capacity to make it happen. And we help her as best we can.

But those with mental disorders? How do they get on their feet again? Where will they get on their feet again? What can they do to get on their feet again?

Some of them never were on their feet. Their lives have always been affected by their mental disease. Their families have given up. Their communities don't know what to do and the mental health system doesn't have the facilities and beds to care for them. Some of them can't find their feet because they lost them to frostbite or gangrene and diabetes and are now trapped in a wheelchair looking for any means to ease their pain -- and sometimes it comes in a needle poked into a vein or a pipe filled with crack. They haven't got the mental capacity to understand that the very thing that is easing their pain is killing them. All they can think of is that at least it gives them some relief from the constant grind of the mental disorder ripping apart their worlds.

And still we stay silent.

Our public officials do the bidding of the people. If someone is on the street because of their schizophrenia, then you and I put him or her there. We did it because in our silence, our public officials do nothing.

Yup. It is sad that these young men the woman spoke of are frightened in the shelters. And it's sad she was scared by a 'crazy' woman pounding on the window of her car.

What is most sad, however, is that we stay silent.

The question is: Have you had enough yet? Are you willing to find your voice and speak out against the injustices on our streets?