The Supreme Court Declares Homelessness a Crime

A Scholarly Lament

In one of the wealthiest nations on the planet, not having a home not only means that you are a target for social stigma, but now it means you are a criminal before you are a human in need of the love and support that we all want for ourselves. At least, this is what the ruling that came from the Supreme Court today screams loudly.

Today, the Supreme Court ruled that it is constitutional for cities and states to punish and criminalize those who are unhoused, even if they have nowhere to go.

This decision follows a legal debate in the case of Grant Pass v. Johnson, which violates the 8th Amendment rights of those affected. This ruling reveals the nation’s ongoing lack of empathy, even as poverty—the fourth leading cause of death—continues to rise.

It breaks my heart because this ruling makes homelessness a crime and does three devastating things:

Firstly, it gives states the license to act on stigma:

It makes criminalization the central option that rises above care and gives cities and states the permission to respond to a growing crisis with punishment, even when enough beds are not available.

Secondly, it increases the danger for those who find themselves without an address:

It places people who have to be on the street in constant danger of being targets while they are also trying to figure out how to escape homelessness. So you now become a target for stigma, displacement, fines and possible jail time before people are concerned with your well-being.

Third and last, it further perpetuates a devaluation of worth for those who are poor and unhoused:

It places the worth of people who are unhoused in the hands of those who have never been unhoused or know what it feels like to be isolated and punished for something you are trying to survive.

This type of decision communicates that worth is more associated with status than with being human. While people stood by and listened to a debate that failed to mention poverty or homelessness even once, it grieves my heart that political rhetoric is more valued than humanized stories and the stories of people who suffer in our world every single day.

And this causes the voices of people who are proximate to go overlooked.

The voices of people, friends, and stakeholders on the front lines, who practice proximity to those suffering, are drowned out by egos, power, and a lack of faith in practical solutions.

In the wake of this, I lament with many people I call friends who find themselves targeted for not having an address. I have written a poem to express my deep emotions surrounding this decision as a scholar, practitioner, and community servant, called “Just See Me.”

JUST SEE ME

Don’t allow your eyes to be covered when you see me struggling,

without access to a bed, when you get to go home and nestle in your bed.

Just see me.

Don’t close your ears to my cries and fears, when you have the power to legislate my demise, and do it with ego, and pride.

Just see me.

You claim to love a Lord that also found Himself wandering, and worship Him on Sundays while having me wonder.

Do you really love your neighbors as yourself?

Just see me.

See me when I am invisible, standing on the corner with a sign, begging for dignity, a piece of hope, a scrap of kindness.

Just see me.

See me when the night is cold, and the streets are harsher than your judgment, when my hypothermia is a whisper in the wind, drowned out by the noise of apathy and indifference.

Just see me.

See me when laws turn me into a criminal for the crime of existing without a home, when justice is blind to my humanity, and mercy is lost in the shuffle of papers and policies and political rhetoric.

Just see me.

See me not as a problem to solve, but as a human to cherish, a story worth hearing, a life worth saving.

Just see me.

In the wealthiest nation, where poverty is a crime, and for some comfort is a given, choose to open your eyes with a lens of empathy, and choose to listen.

Just see me.

For in seeing me, you affirm my existence, you validate my pain, and you see me as a part of a Beloved Community—a world house, a city set on a hill, and you realize that together we can live.

Live in a world where no one is invisible, a world where every cry is heard and every person is valued.

Just see me. Because in seeing me you realize that my humanity is wrapped up in your humanity.

Terence

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Order “Zion Learns To See: Opening Our Eyes To Homelessness” [HERE]

If you want to explore homelessness in the U.S., please consider reading “I See You: How Love Opens Our Eyes to Invisible People.”

Explore my book “When We Stand: The Power of Seeking Justice Together” to learn about the impact of community involvement and collective action on social change.

Discover “All God’s Children: How Confronting Buried History Can Build Racial Solidarity to gain insight into the significance of understanding the historical narratives that shape people and how you might stand in solidarity with your neighbor.

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