Mobility is a privilege. What if you couldn’t move? What if each step you took caused you pain? I want to tell you about Todd. Todd is in his sixties. His hip is injured and he is staying at our shelter. He walks with a cane and a limp. He is homeless. His doctor asked him to stay off his feet for six weeks. The homeless need to be mobile. There is no resting for them and if there was, where would it be? On the street, on a bench, in an alley? Think about the luxury of mobility. Being able to go to the place, you want to go when you want instead of counting on hours of walking or bus riding. The challenge of knowing how much to ask of your friends with cars or caseworkers for rides. We all have to go somewhere; the homeless are not an exception.
There are always lines with the homeless, lines that you and I don’t see. It is almost a game for them, something like the lottery; today will they win that unemployment check they need or the medical assistance they are waiting on. We live in the land of the privileged and they in a land without privilege. Perhaps my homeless friends really learn how to live by struggling with mobility. Maybe I don’t live in the real world but in the world of privilege. What am I missing out on by living here? Who will I become?
– Nicole Little