There’s something oddly clinical about the word “unhoused.” It feels like the kind of term a marketing team would come up with after a three-hour brainstorming session, fueled by overpriced coffee and a deep fear of offending anyone. Somewhere along the line, “homeless” was deemed too harsh, so now we have “unhoused,” as if the problem isn’t the lack of shelter but merely a temporary oversight. It’s like calling a fire “spontaneous heat redistribution.”
This word choice was on my mind as I read the recent article from ABC News, which delves into the perception of unhoused people as dangerous. The piece begins with the stark statistic that “unhoused individuals are 16 times more likely to be victims of violent crime than housed individuals,” a fact that immediately flips the narrative. The real danger, it seems, isn’t from them but to them.
I’ll admit, I’ve crossed paths with my fair share of unhoused folks during my own struggles with addiction and recovery. Some were brilliant, funny, and kind. One man I met could recite entire passages of Shakespeare while crafting sculptures out of discarded aluminum cans. Another offered me a tattered paperback he swore would “change my life”—and it did. I’ve learned that the streets aren’t just a last stop; they’re often an alternate universe filled with stories as complex and varied as the people living them.
The article notes, “Public perception often paints unhoused individuals as violent or dangerous, a stereotype that’s both inaccurate and harmful.” This perception, I think, stems from fear—fear of the unknown, fear of the different, fear of seeing what could easily be our own fate in another life. Let’s be real: the line between housed and unhoused is thinner than most of us would like to admit. If it weren’t for my mom, my uncles, and my friend Peter (whom I lovingly call Peter the Job), I might have been the one sleeping under an overpass, turning aluminum cans into art and quoting Hamlet to anyone who’d listen.
Humor aside, the article shines a necessary light on the humanity of people who are unhoused. It quotes experts who argue that “most unhoused individuals are more likely to experience violence than to perpetrate it.” This reality is a far cry from the villainous caricatures often portrayed in media and public discourse. These are people navigating a system that’s set up to fail them, often battling mental health challenges, addiction, or circumstances beyond their control.
It’s easy to sit in our comfortable homes, sipping our ethically sourced coffee, and think of solutions that sound good on paper but don’t address the root causes. The article highlights programs that focus on “housing first” approaches, which provide shelter without preconditions like sobriety or employment. And why not? You can’t rebuild your life while worrying about where you’ll sleep tonight. It’s hard to focus on self-improvement when your stomach is empty, and your “bed” is a cold patch of concrete.
By the end of the article, it’s clear that the issue isn’t just about housing; it’s about dignity. The unhoused aren’t problems to be solved; they’re people deserving of compassion, understanding, and a fair shot. And if that sounds too idealistic, consider this: we’re all just a few bad breaks away from needing that same compassion.
So here’s the takeaway, poignant and simple: the unhoused aren’t “them”—they’re us. They’re our brothers, sisters, neighbors, and friends. And maybe, just maybe, the first step to solving homelessness is to stop calling it anything other than what it is: a lack of homes for people who need them.
For the full article, check it out here: Unhoused People Perceived as Dangerous.
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