Yesterday, I saw a homeless man steal a sandwich from Starbucks. I didn’t do anything. Thought about it, but then decided I don’t work for Starbucks and I barely do my own job well, and what the hell, the guy was probably hungry. How do you deal with the homeless.
Whenever you see an empty subway car during rush-hour, you know it’s because a homeless person has made a bench their bed and the entire car smells a little too earthy for polite company. My mother will actually stay in the car because she worries about hurting their feelings. I donâ€™t really have any hard and fast rules or feelings about homeless people in NYC. I give money those who seems so rough. I avoid the ones who seem bat-sh*t crazy (like thereâ€™s one particularly big, burly guy who only wears a burlap sack with discarded newspaper for shoes â€“ that makes me sad, but I also don’t want to put myself in danger.) I’ve also got into a shoving match with one homeless woman — or begging woman. That was bad. I was in a bad mood. Some days, I go about the world extremely angry and get tired of people pushing me, so I pushed back and we went at it, until I was, Tina, what are you doing, this woman is homeless and has less than you. Get over it.
My husband? He actually will hold a homeless person hand, look them in the eye, give them a dollar, and tell them to take care of themselves. He feels like it’s important for them to feel seen, because they’re invisible usually…I think it’s sweet, because he cares about people, but come on, he’s a hippie.