Homeless for a day (and night)

A couple of weeks ago, I participated in an event called Sleep 4 The Streets, and initiative of the SFU Student Marketing Association. The premise? To spend 24 hours in Library Square, downtown, with nothing except a pillow and blanket/sleeping bag that fit into a garbage bag. No food or water; anything we ate or drank had to be donated. So at 8am, we pitched our sleeping bags in front of the library and set about raising money for Covenant House, an organization based in Vancouver that provides food, shelter, counselling and help to youth 16-24 years old who find themselves on the streets.
It was an incredible experience, so much so that I'm finding it difficult to really get what I felt and experienced settled in this post because I feel like black-and-white words on a page don't do it justice. I will try, though.
The fact that we raised a lot of money for youth on the streets is great, and the actual sleeping outside part, well, that sucked. Asphalt is hard, your body goes numb and then hurts from the unyielding concrete and between the blaring sirens, glaring streetlights and miscellaneous singing drunks, you don't get much sleep. You mostly just try to stay warm and then wait, exhausted, for the sun to come up.
For those of you who know me, you know that I'm passionate about people, epecially people on the fringes of society; and I love talking to people forgotten and marginalized by the world because it helps me to understand why...why they are who they are, why they live like they do, why they can't get out. It puts faces and names and voices to the labels we hear all the time: the poor, the homeless, the slum kids, orphans, hookers, druggies, widows, immigrants. As a young, white, young woman who makes decent money, it is too dangerous for me to wander the streets in the Lower Eastside. When I'm around there, even in broad daylight, I have to look straight ahead and walk fast because otherwise I could get hurt. I don't belong in the homeless society; I don't dress like thay do or have the same look in my eyes, I don't get the subtle cultural cues of the street people, of how to greet, where to sit, who NOT to talk to.
But I hate taking the bus by the worst part of town; sitting in my warm bus with my nice clothes on, listening to my MP3 player and texting on my cute pink cellphone, I stare out at them from high up, from an easy vantage point that's lightyears away from their world. It's a clash of lifestyles that makes me feel all twisted inside, like I am alienated from these fellow human beings, kept conveniently and comfortably at bay from their uncomfortable, unwanted existence that I do everything to avoid. I knew I had prejudices about the homeless. They're lazy...they're all bad people, lost causes. They should get off their butts and go to a shelter, take a shower, get a job. They're homeless because the're not smart enough, or too incompetent to function in society. It's their fault. You know the drill.
Sleep 4 The Streets allowed me to shake off the walls between 'us' and 'them'. For 24 hours, as a group, we got to meet homeless men and women, go to learn their names and hear their stories and share our coffee with them. And you know what? The things I learned could fill a book, and instead of writing them here, I'd ask you to ask me about them, next time we speak. We'll have coffee and talk about it. But I can say this; during that brief time, when we had to rely on our street friends to educate us in the ways of the homeless (where do you pee at 2am? How do you insulate yourself against the cold? Where can I find cardboard to protect me from the rain? What are the best times to panhandle?), we made friends. We heard stories of hope, crazy rantings, terrifying anecdotes and the cold hard truth. We learned that living on the streets is never a choice, it's a last resort. The streets are scary, cold and mean, especially for those who live on them. And we realized more strongly than ever before that we are lucky and blessed to not have to live like that.
I have come back changed. I was on my way to Banff this week and stopped at Tim Hortons for coffee on the way. As I left the store I noticed a man sleeping around a corner of the building. I went over and set my coffee next to him and headed back to the bus. I saw him. I will always see the homeless now, and I can't walk by them anymore because they have a face and a story and a need. I remember what it was like to sit in the rainy cold night and hope someone, anyone, would give me a hot drink to keep the chill out for just a little while.
There is more to say but this is already a novel. Thanks for listening. :)

For pictures of the event, follow this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=110908&id=516925305&l=1dc24