Rethinking Stereotypes Volunteering At City Gate Helps This Teen Realize Homeless People Aren’t Different From You And Me.

Homelessness.

When people hear this word, pictures come to mind of drunken bums and drug addicts hanging out on the streets because they’ve wasted all their money on booze, cigarettes and drugs. They think these people are dangerous and cross to the other side of the street as they see them coming. To them, homeless people are covered with a week’s worth of grime and smell of sweat and smoke.

We’ve all seen homeless people; they’re dressed in worn-out, patched clothes and other fashions way out of style, with ragged unkempt hair and yellow teeth. I’ll be the first one to admit that most of these people aren’t the least bit attractive, but once you get past the dirty facade and look into their eyes, a whole new world opens up and the above stereotype drifts out of mind. This world is not seen by most because they can’t get past the stereotypes that are built in with the word “homeless.”

For two years I have served food and mingled with homeless people at a mission called City Gate Fellowship in downtown Spokane. This is a Christian-run ministry that opens its doors every day to serve food to the homeless and poverty-stricken people of inner-city Spokane.

Hot soup, a variety of sandwiches and cookies fill the plates of all the people who enter the doors of this building. Food that most of us privileged kids wouldn’t touch is gobbled down by hundreds of hungry people. Taste doesn’t matter; food is a luxury for them.

As a high school student I had never ventured far into the inner city, and the first night I entered City Gate it was quite an eye-opener. I saw a side of life that I hadn’t realized existed in our quiet, sheltered town of Spokane. While I filled cups with watered-down Kool-Aid or strong coffee, thoughts raced through my head. What brought these people to this point: Was it a stretch of bad luck or a bad decision they made? Can they get themselves off the streets, or are they stuck here forever? Have they ever felt any joy? How far am I from ending up in their position?

At City Gate, age doesn’t matter; you’ll find every age from babies to the elderly. The one group of people who opens my eyes the most, though, would be the large group of teenagers that I have served. On the outside they look tough and ragged, but in most of their eyes is a look of fear and confusion.

Few of these teens know what will happen from day to day; they search continually for an answer to life.

Looking at them makes me feel fearful for them. Some are lucky enough to have a “home” to sleep in, but who knows what those places are like. Thinking of this makes my home and life look very easy. I have a warm bed and can feel safe where I am, and they can’t. I have a future and know that I am loved. Do they feel any love from other people? Do they know where life will take them?

For many of these people entering City Gate, life gives no escape from the dark future they face. Many turn to suicide, thinking that death is a way out.

One night as I was greeting people at the door, a man came up to me to shake my hand. On his wrists I could see multiple cuts, and I remember wondering how one could even think of taking their own life. This incident also made me realize just how desperate these people are for an escape.

Not all the stories at City Gate are sad ones. Many of them are tales of how lives have been changed. This, after all, is the main purpose of City Gate.

One man always had a smile on his face and a word of greeting on his lips; he had us call him Grandpa Joe. He and his wife are Hispanic and are at City Gate every time I am there. Grandpa Joe is one who has learned many lessons out of life and is content with where he is. He’s not the cleanest or the greatest looking man, but he doesn’t mind. Life just doesn’t get him down much.

There is a broad spectrum of people at City Gate; most are friendly and very polite, some are coarse. Some upper- and middle-class citizens argue that these people are just lazy and don’t need help; they say they should help themselves before they expect any help from anyone else.

For all who say that, I challenge them to look in the eyes of a homeless or poverty-stricken person and see the desperation before they make any judgments. You can’t keep from wanting to help these people.

Many of them did get themselves in this mess, but some are there because of a stroke of bad luck or another unfortunate event.

One man I met at City Gate backed me up against the wall and asked me why I was there. Without giving me a chance to respond, he told me that adults shouldn’t make kids come to places like this and see the horrid surroundings of an inner-city mission. I tried to tell him that it was my choice to be there, but he wouldn’t listen.

As I live my life, I can’t help but remember the people I have met and the incidents that have surrounded me at this place. Behind the rugged and dirty facades of these people are hearts and minds just like our own. The only difference between us and them are a few paychecks.

Entering City Gate has definitely opened up a new world for me, a world of new perspectives and ideas. I can’t drive downtown today without seeing one of the people I have greeted or served and wondering how they are.

My view of life is much more thankful and open. I see the things I have and the life I’ve been given and hurt for the people who don’t get the same lot in life.

The City Gate Fellowship changes lives, and it changes more people than just the homeless ones who enter the gate.