During the summer semester of 2013 at the Community College of Denver (CCD), I
gave a speech to my Public Speaking Class about my experience with homelessness
and the Camping Ban Ordinance enacted by the City of Denver. In that speech I invited
my classmates to experience 30 continuous days of homelessness in order for them to
fully realize what it is really like.
     I did this because of the things I have seen some students do to show solidarity with the
homeless plight in this country. In these acts of solidarity the students would spend a
night together camping out in a parking lot or a parking garage or some such place with
adult supervision and refreshments.
     Although I applaud their efforts, I have to say that they are severely short sighted and
target the wrong demographic. Most of the homeless people that I know are middle
aged white males, divorced or recently separated, living on the streets because the
rents are too high in this area. Many have part-time jobs or work in the volunteer sector. Most of them came to the streets because they slowly but surely lost everything they
owned and/or loved.
     This means: no friends, no family, no means of communication or transportation, with
only what they can carry and only what is absolutely necessary to survive. This means
having to walk sometimes miles a day just for food to sit and eat right there, in whatever
conditions they were in or experiencing. Many times in these food-lines people are
suffering and lashing out at anyone and everyone they see. The weather can be harsh
and cruel, and personal hygiene is a difficult task.
     Finding these resources for the uninitiated is also quite daunting. I can still remember
the horror of not being able to find a place to use the bathroom: realizing for the first
time that you are truly desperate and alone as you defecate in an alley to avoid messing
yourself. (This occurred on my first full day of total homelessness.) It is because of
these things and many others that I encouraged the class to experience real
homelessness. Nobody accepted my challenge. I don’t blame them.

My former homelessness is one of the most difficult subjects for me to reflect upon and
talk about. I look back to the days when shelter was unavailable and times were grim,
and I can only wonder which pieces of those days to share. What views should I share,
and upon what events should I base them? What, if any, point or moral should I try to
instill in my words, to reach my readers and hopefully make some impact? I hope I can
be an inspiration to those who are still facing the struggle--and to those who are inspired
to lend a hand, I thank you.
     The struggle continues for so many in this state alone that it can make the challenge of
overcoming homelessness seem insurmountable, but with perseverance and a
commitment to bettering society, we can see a day when everybody has everything they
need to live a happy, normal life by their own standards.
     I suppose I should start in the most logical of starting places: the first occasion (of
several) in which I became homeless. About seven years ago in northern California I lived in the small coastal town of Pacifica. I worked two jobs and was well liked in my
community. I lived with my father and his (now ex) wife, subletting the basement of their
house. Over the course of several months, when work was slow and I didn’t have much
money, the contents of a large change bucket slowly turned themselves into my
cigarettes, much to the owner’s agitation upon discovering what I had done.
     I woke up that morning to unhappy knocking at the door connecting my floor to the
upstairs level, and an upset Father explaining how disappointed he was and telling me
to pack a bag and get out. I walked down the hill in the early Pacific Ocean mist to the
convenience store that was already open, and bought a 40 ounce beer. I wandered to
the beach and sat on a bench out of the public view, mind full of chaos, and proceeded
to figure out what to do next.
     I was lucky that stealing change was an easy fault to fix in myself, but what of the poor
unfortunates who have mental or physical ailments that can’t be corrected through force
of will alone? No one should be forced into feeling that desperation, that sense of
coming unglued at the seams. The masses need access to health care, shelter, food,
and clean water. They deserve privacy and respect, just like those more fortunate than
them.
     The experiences I faced as a homeless man in my twenties gave me a different
perspective of the world, and not necessarily a positive one. I faced feelings of inferiority
that continue to this day. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t even a real person, or that I was
a burden… but I want to say now that every person has worth and value measured
beyond their income.
There must be a great social reform in the near future to end the pain that so many face
on a daily basis. Without funding and volunteers, many of the services provided to low
income residents of our fair state will simply vanish. They say a society can be judged
by how well its poor live. So what would an outsider say of our society? We have a lot of
progress to make as a culture, but we can make a utopia for all.
     I found a way out of my life of sleeping under bridges, and on nature trails, where a
warm place to sleep at night didn’t always mean a dry place to wake up. I got myself out
by staying positive, staying social, and staying clean (both literally and figuratively), but
it was not without the help of aid programs and caring friends.
As much as I would love to continue waxing poetic about the things I endured, it would
serve little purpose other than to bolster my own ethos. I leave you with this sentiment:
any life can be made better with focus and hard work… and there’s no problem one
can’t make worse through neglect.
     
Artist Will Hamelin, a student at Metro State University, dabbles in many forms of
expression, constantly trying to awaken minds to the plight of the poor and neglected.