Global Wandering

Given my frequent travels to major cities, I am often asked by beggars on the streets for alms. I have thought of this much in the past year, particularly after writing this post suggesting we should look beggars in the eye to affirm their humanity.

This has been a difficult standard for me to live. For example, last week I was in Beverly Hills walking along Rodeo Drive, a polished street lined with clothing boutiques and shops headlined by leading fashion designers. I wasn’t shopping. I guess you could say I was people watching, trying to figure out who buys from these types of stores. Is it all celebrities or just tourists like me looking for celebrities? I admit this was a trivial experiment. On the other hand, I often get good ideas while performing the trivial.

Outside one of the shops, a black man sitting in a wheelchair asked for some change. I walked two paces past him, took a few dollars out of my pocket, turned and gave him the money.

I didn’t look him in the eye. I don’t think I looked at him at all. In this transaction, I was as indifferent as an ATM machine. I regret that. I have thought of it much since.

Earlier in the day in another part of LA, a woman stopped and asked me to read a number on her cell phone that she was having difficulty deciphering. This woman was poor, although not indigent. We walked a few steps together after I had read the number before she took the phone back. It was a short enough pause for her to convey to me, “I trust you. I know you won’t steal my phone”. I looked her in the eye.

The difference in these two interactions highlights why I have difficulty looking beggars in the eye.

Fear.

Fear of the beggar and fear of what those watching me give are thinking.

I have always feared strangers. Stranger danger was hammered into me as suburban middle class white kid attending a Catholic grade school. I don’t specifically remember being taught this, but somehow I developed a fear of those who were different. Those barriers began to break down after high school when I worked with mostly African Americans at a downtown hotel. I now respect difference, even seek it out because variety brings such a rich texture and meaning to life. Yet there is still a part of me that fears I will be mugged if I stop to give a few dollars to a beggar. When the woman demonstrated trust by handing me her cell phone, my innate fear dissipated.

I have also been taught to not judge if the person asking for help is deserving or not. I try to live by that standard, particularly if the request is small. Yet if you read the literature on begging, there is the school of thought that says we shouldn’t give to beggars. That the money will be used for drugs and alcohol. That there are sufficient soup kitchens and homeless shelters so beggars don’t need to beg. That if you give, you should give a gift card for food.

I hear those voices when I respond to a beggar’s request. In my mind I can feel the eyes of those silently chastising me for my charity. Chastising me for rewarding miscreant behavior and not solving the problem of poverty, only proliferating it. I also hear voices castigating me for being self-righteous. That I only give so others can see me give.

So there you have it. Fear of others causes me to hurry my street giving. Sanitize it. Pretend I am not really doing it by not looking at the person to whom I am giving.

I will strive to do better and not listen to the voices. I will look strangers in the eye and convey trust just like the lady with the cell phone did for me.