I had an interesting lesson in politically correct terminology recently. I’ve been aware of several inoffensive words since the 1990s, but this new description has caught me off-guard.
During an interview, I mentioned the word “homeless.” Instead of shaming me for it, however, I was simply educated on the usage.
Now that I look at it, “homeless” can sound a bit harsh; unfortunately, sprinkling the issue with less hurtful alternatives isn’t going to make the problem go away.
Between Casper, Elko and Phoenix, my then-fiancé and I were classified as “sheltered homeless” in the early 90s. It was a miserable experience; we even had to sleep on the floor.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to sleep on the ground. Maybe if all of us would experience that for one night, each of us would have a different opinion on housing insecurities.
Before I returned to Rock Springs in the fall of 1993, I was 48 hours away from being “unsheltered homeless.”
That was too close!
To this day, I still have financial anxiety because I don’t want to be “unhoused.”
What’s worse about housing insecurity is when someone denies it’s a problem.
The yellow CAUTION tape was visible for all to see from a busy street on that windy Thursday morning. A curious social media user asked what was happening in the area on Facebook.
All we need to do is wait five minutes and we’ll get pieces of the story.
The press release from our local police department popped up in our email as fast as the comments did on that post.
Sure enough, the body of a man was found under one of the bridges in town.
There were various posts regarding the discovery of the body. The comments indicated that the man was “homeless” and occasionally, several residents pitched in to help him out. They brought him food, clothing, some essentials and even a sleeping bag.
I bet that man was mighty thankful for those kind folks.
In the comments, these folks mentioned he was a nice guy, petting the neighborhood dogs and guarding sheds from thieves.
Maybe I should write a story about their generosity as well as a few words from our local angels about this man.
I had planned to share some statistics and perspectives on unsheltered individuals in Wyoming first.
I need to present the facts.
Then, I was going to describe how everyone felt in their hearts on paper.
I know, I know, I’m a mushy person.
The second part didn’t quite make it to the finish line.
Days later, our office was mistaken for a different news organization by a local woman. She thought one of us had written a story about her late husband. (The man who had died under a bridge.) She was upset and said that he “wasn’t homeless.”
If I had answered the phone, I would have asked her, “Well, ma’am, if he’s not homeless, what would you call it?”
What’s the proper term? Outdoor enthusiast?
My editor gave her an opportunity to “clear the air,” for the public, but she didn’t want to give him her name.
Was she embarrassed? Is she withholding information?
I have never met this man. I can’t say whether he was “unhoused,” but the people who have given this man a hand were clearly aware of his situation.
Those good Samaritans witnessed a crisis first-hand. It wasn’t their imagination.
Don’t let anyone tell you that there’s nothing to see here.
Trust me, there is a lot to see; you just need to open your eyes.
Personally, I hate labels; that man was a person, no matter what his living conditions were.
And last, but not least, no one should die alone outside.
Trina Dennis Brittain is a reporter for the Rocket Miner Newspaper and Rawlins Times.
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