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The darker side of New York City

Ah, New York City. The city of lights, the city that never sleeps, the city of… homelessness. This past summer, I returned to work in NYC, and again I was reminded of the struggles of so many homeless on a daily basis. It's next to impossible to avoid seeing homelessness if you live in the city. Shockingly, despite New York's population rising only about 6 percent since 2000, the number of homeless people in shelters has nearly tripled to the highest rate since the Great Depression. Walking down the street, I find it hard to avoid a profound sense of guilt for enjoying such a lavish lifestyle while so many suffer around me. I often reflect on how lucky I am to have such a strong upbringing with capable parents and a bright future through Princeton. Perhaps these people could change the world, if only people like you or me could give them a leg to stand on.

But what exactly is the best way to help such people in need? I often hear friends say never give money to the homeless, else they won't seek help. Or worse yet, that they are simply scammers or lunatics who don't give a damn about your charity. I always dismissed these as selfish excuses under the guise of a selfless decision to do “what's best for them.” I had no reservations about giving money to those in need directly, continuing to believe that compassion was the best weapon against this problem.

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Until this past summer, this sentiment had served quite well. Yet, an unfortunate encounter truly shook my world. A few months ago, while coming home from a typical Manhattan Saturday night, a friend and I stopped in the park to relax on a bench. Yes, it was 2 a.m. No, this was not a safe decision. Nonetheless, we decided to enjoy the night air in the park.

After sitting for a few minutes, a clearly inebriated homeless man approached us in considerable distress. With his eyes welled up in genuine despair, he hysterically narrated an incoherent story of being robbed of his seizure medication by some teenagers only half an hour earlier. Both my friend and I could read the distress and sadness in his eyes, and that was enough to engage quite a bit of sympathy from us both.

Never before had I seen such an opportunity to help a person before, so I asked “What can we do? How can we help? What do you need?” As I had done successfully in the past, I attempted to show compassion and offer help to somebody I thought just needed a hand. This time it was different. In a few seconds, the man went from inconsolable sadness to unprovoked anger. He demanded to know what happened to his drugs and told me “I'll knock you the **** out.” He reached for my bag, and before I knew what was happening, my friend and I were running towards Third Avenue in full sprint.

This little dose of reality had a profound impact on me. I couldn't stop thinking about it for days. Where once I thought that love conquers all, I was now left with a confused sense of betrayal. All I had wanted was to help this man, but my compassion was met with rage. I want to make clear that I am not attempting to paint myself as a traumatized victim. Sitting in a park at 2 a.m. begets certain company, and I am primarily to blame for putting myself in this situation. What I am saying is that this changed my perspective. The real victims are those who need help, yet don't know how to express it or find it.

After a few months of reflection, I am able to have an impersonal perspective. I have strong reservations about shifting to a more conservative point of view. How easy it would be to paint all homeless with a broad, sweeping brush as dangerous, psychotic maniacs and shut myself off to any sort of charity in the future. How convenient. I get to continue reaping the benefits of my — dare I say — privileged upbringing, turning my nose up at those ungrateful individuals who threw my kindness in my face, all the while pleading a story of senseless victimization. No, I refuse to let this one experience shape my view of so many people.

However, it does merit a rethinking of the way I approach the problem. This experience prompted me to research best practices for helping the homeless. Unsurprisingly, many organizations warn of the dangers of drunk or mentally ill homeless at night, and suggest avoiding such encounters. The truth is, mental illness is extremely widespread within the homeless population, and personal charity won't solve the problem alone. Research suggests that putting money towards shelters and organizations is a more prudent way to tackle this complicated problem. While my head is still reeling from this incident, my sympathy for these people remains. If nothing else, this has taught me that solutions to complicated problems such as this must come from organized, concerted efforts to provide help. Instead of giving your $10 to a person, donate it to a homeless charity or shelter. Sometimes, individual kindness just isn't enough.

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ChristianWawrzonek is a computer science major from Pittsburgh, Pa. He can be reached atcjw5@princeton.edu.

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