At a press conference this week Mayor Bloomberg made a statement that resonated in the ears of NYC homeless advocates. "There aren't very many panhandlers left, in all fairness to the MTA, come on," he said. Bloomberg added that the MTA has "worked very hard to fix that."
True they have worked -- the "very hard" part is debatable. In 1997 they made a couple posters advising MTA riders to not give money to panhandlers, but rather donate money to City Harvest, a food rescue organization.
But, I don't feel the government needs to work much harder than that. Bloomberg is attempting to "better" NYC aesthetically, but not morally. I give when I can, and pray for them when I can't. I would be sad to see them go, as I have a little place in my heart for homeless panhandlers.
Removing panhandlers from the subway doesn't make giving any easier, in fact it stifles our giving bone. I can't speak for everyone, but giving to a face, actually looking into the eyes of someone who is less fortunate than you and doing something to make a difference, is a vital part of life that we've traded for material aesthetics, and the pursuit of financial gain.
Bloomberg claims that he rides the MTA, but it's clear that his large security entourage is blocking his vision. Any subway rider will tell you that panhandling is alive and well underground. Panhandling doesn't solely mean homeless people asking for money, it's any approach by a stranger requesting money or food, and for some it is a means of survival. So the musicians who coyly play their tunes before walking through your cart with an upside down hat, and the dancers who interrupt your subway nap by bouncing up and down before standing in front of you with an open backpack are all in the same boat.
By no means are MTA riders obligated to give, but if someone touches your heart, it shouldn't be illegal -- helping someone out should never be illegal.
Everyday I travel from Queens to the Bronx, and then from the Bronx to Manhattan, and then back to Queens. That's about four hours daily on the subway, which is about 20 hours a week of MTA (more than the healthy dosage). I actually sleep more on the train than in my own bed - because of this, there isn't a panhandler on the E, 7, 6, 5, 4, A, S or C that I haven't seen.
I've grown accustomed to them -- the singing blind man and his dog on the weekends on the E train, the Mexican accordion band on the 7 train. The break dancing kids on the 6 train, the man on the A train who claims that he hasn't eaten in four days, and the army veteran on the S train, they've all become a colorful part of my New York experience.
I hate to throw in a cliché, but you can't judge a book by its cover. Some panhandlers are telling the truth, some really might be homeless; some might have lost their family. Some might be drug addicts looking for money for their next fix, some might be upstanding citizens who just like to wear dirty clothes and make extra money. In all honesty, there is no way for us to know, besides sitting down and having a heartfelt conversation. And since that doesn't appeal to most, we just throw money at them, rather than provide real help... real support... real love.
For example, this morning, I bought a Mango-a-go-go and a Mediterranean Yum Yum flatbread from Jamba Juice. To be honest, in typical American fashion, I have no idea how much my meal cost, I just swiped my card and vowed to deal with it later. As I was walking, I saw a man sleeping underneath a telephone booth. He had a simple sign, "Homeless, please help." He wasn't asking for anything, no money, no food, just help. Just help! At first, I walked right past him, as most New Yorkers do, but then something inside of me made me turn around and ask him a question. I said, "Are you hungry? Did you eat today?," and he opened up his sleepy eyes and muttered "Yes... No," respectively. I gave him my Mediterranean Yum Yum and saw him smile and take his first bite. That moment was so genuine, so real, and so filled with brotherly love that I wouldn't want to deny anyone that feeling. I actually want to encourage more people to connect with people in that way, whether it's on the subway, on the street, in our homes, in our community, and in our government.
Some people may have concerns about the safety of approaching people in the manner that I did. That's understandable, so here are other options. By taking that credit card that we use to buy our lunches, you can easily and in a hands-offish way donate money to charities that help the homeless or people suffering from any other plight, such as a recent natural disaster or a health-related problem.
Sites like GiveBack.org allow prospective donors to safely use their credit cards online to donate to more than 1 million registered charities, explains Credit-Land.com. Donations can be of any size--even if you want to just give the equivalent to a week or month's worth of Mango-a-go-gos, you can. Like the giving of my sandwich, even the smallest of acts of charity can make a difference in another person's life in the heart of New York City and worldwide.
Does it make any sense that I, and millions of others like myself can afford to effortlessly swipe our credit cards on frivolous smoothies and energy drinks, while two blocks down a man is starving for help, money, food and love. Some shrug it off and say it's the real world, but the world is what you make it. And if you can make it a place of love, help, and kindness, then why wouldn't you?