Why We Need to Fight Stigma
A Reflection on Jose Adorma’s Life: January 25, 2010 - November 6, 2024
It has been a little over a week since I picked up my cellphone and was triggered, even brought to tears, by the story of Jose Emiliano Zamora Jr. It has taken me a while to write about this in depth.
There it was, displayed on the tiny screen: 14-year-old takes his life after being bullied for homelessness. Not only did I mourn this young man’s life, even though I did not know him, but I also felt the weight of his father’s words as I read deeper into what had happened.
Jose’s father, Jose Bautista, revealed the heartbreaking details of the bullying his son endured: “They were spitting on him, hitting him on the back of the helmet,”1 acts fueled by the cruel stigma of not having an address. Reflecting on his unimaginable loss, his father lamented, “I miss hearing him, seeing him. I miss picking him up…”2
As I tried to process this heartbreaking loss, two questions immediately surfaced:
Who were the other children bullying him? And how had their perceptions of someone who is unhoused been shaped?
Were these ideas planted by their families, perpetuating harmful beliefs?
Was it the media, with its frequent dehumanizing portrayals of people experiencing homelessness?
Or had their views been shaped by watching how society often treats those standing on the side of the road asking for help?
Whatever the source, my grief and lament turned into a deeper reflection—on how violent and destructive social stigma can be, even for a 14-year-old boy who never chose to be unhoused.
When I think of stigma, the best metaphor I can use to describe it is this: stigma is like a stain on the fabric of how society perceives a person, group, or condition. This stain doesn’t just sit on the surface—it spreads, seeping into the threads, becoming impossible to wash away. It defines how this fabric is viewed, judged, and valued. The stain becomes the first and often only thing people see, overshadowing the worth and beauty of the whole fabric. Worse still, this stain becomes an excuse to devalue, reject, or even discard it entirely.
As someone who has experienced stigma, I know that the stain it leaves is not just an external judgment—it becomes a heavy burden carried deep within. It is a mark of unfairness, a distortion of identity that can linger for generations. No matter how much effort is made to rise above it or wash it away, the stain persists in public perception, continually reinforced by the rhetoric and systems that created it.
This is the violence of stigma: it strips people of their dignity, dehumanizes them, and perpetuates harm over time.
Jose should have been striving to become a future leader, building his dreams, and experiencing the joy of childhood.
Instead, he was fighting against bullying that could have been fueled by the social stigma of homelessness—a stigma that deeply impacted how he saw himself in his community and the world. To be unhoused is not just about lacking an address.
It means battling a relentless stigma that dehumanizes you, isolates you, and tells you that you don’t belong. For Jose, this stigma manifested as bullying, exclusion, and hateful rhetoric from his peers—pushing him into a place of unbearable emotional pain (that some journalists are describing as mental health challenges).
This stigma is not limited to children—it is a stigma that many people who are unhoused face each day just for not having an address.
The mistreatment and judgment that come with being unhoused often lead to social isolation, limited access to resources, and even outright denial of basic services.
For example, we recently witnessed a situation in our community where a community member named Latrice was denied temporary shelter at a motel simply because she was unhoused.
Stigma is violence. It is a stain that harms those who endure it and those who perpetuate it. Stigma isn’t just harmful—it is deeply painful. Words and actions matter more than we often realize.
Jose’s story forces us to ask difficult but necessary questions: How are we contributing to harmful narratives about unhoused people? Are we standing up for children and youth who face bullying and isolation because of their circumstances?
What are we doing to create a world where every person feels seen, valued, and safe?
These questions are not meant to make us feel helpless but to remind us that change begins with each of us.
While we cannot bring Jose back, we can honor his life by committing to change. This starts with advocating for resources and safe spaces for unhoused youth and adults. It includes speaking up against harmful rhetoric and taking a stand against mistreatment wherever it occurs.
Most importantly, it means choosing to see and treat every person, no matter their circumstances, with dignity and compassion.
Dear Jose,
Your life mattered, and it always will. You deserved a world where you could dream freely, laugh loudly, and grow into the person you were meant to be—a world that saw your worth, not the circumstances where you lived. I am deeply sorry that society’s failures and the weight of stigma caused you so much pain. You should have been protected, cherished, and embraced for the beautiful soul you were.
Your story reminds us of the urgent need for change. Your life and legacy demand that we become better—a society that uplifts rather than tears down, one that sees every child as worthy of love, respect, and dignity.
You deserved more, Jose.
I am reminded of Jesus’ words when he said: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34).
This love is not passive; it is transformative. It compels us to see every person's divine worth and treat them with the care and compassion they deserve.
In your memory, Jose, I commit to continuing to fight stigma, speaking out against harmful rhetoric, and fighting for a world where no one feels invisible.
With love and sorrow,
Terence
Listen to the Imgaine Dignity Podcast [HERE]
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.
Or, subscribe to the Love Beyond Walls Newsletter—by visiting the site and signing up.
Yang, Maya. “California Teen Takes Life After Being Bullied for Being Unhoused, Father Says.” The Guardian, November 16, 2024.
Yang, “California Teen Takes Life After Being Bullied for Being Unhoused.
I don't think Jose took his life because he was homeless. At most it was a contributing factor. I think he took his life because he didn't know how to stand up to bullies. A lot of bullied young people kill themselves. https://open.substack.com/pub/gbray/p/copy-just-say-no?r=1d6qya&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web