An Insolent

It's interesting to see how people react to the homeless. When you've just met someone, and he is accosted by a beggar, he suddenly looks as though he's been caught masturbating by his mother. How does one respond to these encounters? Each person's experience is different and somehow intimate. When there is a witness to this experience, one feels violated. Lending to the embarrassment is perhaps that most of the homeless are mentally disabled in some way. And let's face it, no one knows how to interact with the mentally disabled, unless they have been trained or have an inherent gift. Doubled with this unfamiliar feeling is the feeling of scorn, but also pity. Scorn for the audacity of someone wanting your hard earned money without offering anything in return. Pity for the hopeless state they are so obviously trapped in. Scorn and pity fold together with the unfamiliarity to create repulsion, a secret repulsion. It is secret, because, no matter how low they seem to be, you cannot deny their humanity. You also know that there isn't very much separating you from them. But the repulsion remains. You are embarrassed about your repulsion, and each person reacts to their own embarrassment differently. Some are offended, some are ashamed, some become angry.

I witnessed a bony girl in a tube top refusing a beggar passing her street-side table at a hip Latin American restaurant in Eastern Market. She informs the bum of her tax paying status, and then ventures into her well-rehearsed tirade about how alms-giving only perpetuates the problem. In this situation, our heroine is surrounded by her tight-fitted comfort zone, though she is purposely informing the rest of the restaurant of her views through them. I know this tactic well, because I have used it often. It is quite useful when trying to initiate an intoxicated brawl. There's something quite empowering about your comfort zone. She never would have ventured on her tirade without them and certainly not with a new acquaintance. Strip the indignant lady of her support group, and she becomes an impetuous child.

Alone, you fear judgement. With friends, you invite it. The brave invite judgement indiscriminately, and I envy them.