“I have a masters degree.”
I looked up from my printed list of local nonprofit resources as she spoke the words from across the interview table. “Excuse me?” I said in confusion. She brushed aside a lock of tangled hair from her forehead and set her hands gently on the particleboard table as she repeated slowly, emphasizing each syllable: “I – have – a – masters degree. And because of that damn degree, I have student loans, but I can’t find work, so here I am: homeless, broke, and pissed off, with a masters degree.” Taken aback, I expressed my sympathies and continued on with the interview process, making sure our organization could assist this woman with resources. But now the thought was lodged in my brain: If it weren’t for my family’s support, I would be on the other side of this table. That’s the difference: not the decisions I’ve made but the privileges I didn’t earn. This interaction back in 2010 forever changed how I think about homelessness, but more importantly, it changed my perception of the people who experience it.

I’ve worked and lived around homeless people in some capacity for roughly a decade now. Since college, I’ve always lived in urban areas, and I’ve interned and volunteered with a number of organizations that support people without homes. On a deeper level, I’ve also gotten to know many people without homes and forged some deep friendships. I don’t write about this much on the blog because I don’t want to cheapen these connections or turn these friendships into talking points. I mention it now only to give some context for why a particular term frustrates me every time I hear it. That term is “the homeless”– as in “We’re raising money for the homeless” or “We’re going to go serve the homeless.”

Grammatically, “homeless” is an adjective, not a noun, and when you throw in “the,” it has a distancing and dehumanizing effect; using the phrase “the homeless” allows you to differentiate and pigeonhole people who are otherwise just like you. It’s a way to reduce a person’s whole identity down to just one characteristic so as to permanently separate yourself. Hurtful phrases like “the blacks” and “the gays” have a similar alienating effect, but while these have been largely eliminated from all but the most bigoted circles, “the homeless” has stuck around, so I have a suggestion:

Instead of the “the homeless,” try saying “our homeless friends.”
If you don’t have any friendships like these, go with “our homeless neighbors.”

Over time, when you get to know people and form relationships, you see the similarities you missed before. Sure, there will always be a little bit of a divide due to different life experiences, but with time, your “homeless friends” and “homeless neighbors” become simply your friends and neighbors. Homelessness may remain a part of these friends’ journeys, but it stops being the only lens through which you see them. It stops being the thing that defines them. And when you stop defining people solely by the things that make you different, we all get a little closer to seeing each other as who we really are: people.