Homelessness 101: To Give or Not to Give Cash to Homeless People
To give or not to give—cash to homeless people on the streets—is the question that’s asked at the end of almost every presentation I make on homelessness.
Good-hearted people want to know what they should do when someone asks them for money—or, just as often, what do I do?
They never get a short answer.
For starters, I tell them that it’s been my experience (over the past 30 years) that a lot of the people on the streets who ask for money (AKA panhandlers) aren’t actually homeless. If I’m asked for money to buy food, I have cash with me that I can spare, and there is food available nearby, I buy food for the person. I don’t give cash, simply because any cash given to panhandlers, homeless or not, is highly likely to be used to buy alcohol or drugs. What makes me so sure?
In the early 1980’s I spent almost every weekday afternoon for five years developing and directing the Street Ministry, a church-based, drop-in/resource center in downtown Memphis for the men and women we called “the street people.” I also lived downtown and therefore knew almost all of the “street people,” especially those who, in today’s parlance, would be considered chronically homeless (on the streets or in shelters for a year or more and have a diagnosable disability). In addition, we volunteers had assessed several thousand homeless individuals unaccompanied by children, and identified substance abuse or mental illness as a primary issue for almost all of them.
Because we were trying so hard to get them to go to into one of Memphis’ excellent (and free) residential recovery programs to get clean and sober, the last thing I wanted to do was give them money to buy more alcohol or drugs. I also knew a lot about the shelters, soup kitchens and clothes closets, and was very close to the mental health professionals who were working magic with some of our homeless friends. I knew who to help, when to help, how to help, and when to stay out of the way of the professionals. (That did not always keep my heart from over-ruling my head.)
All that changed when I moved to Washington on my “wildly improbable journey” to find a way to break the cycle of homelessness. I had barely enough money to pay my rent and get by and I didn’t know any of the “street” people and/or panhandlers, or anything about available resources. I soon found myself doing what so many people do. I avoided them or pretended I didn’t see them or hear them when they asked me for money, even when I wished, with all my heart, that I could give them the money they asked for. It hurt so much that I got honest with myself—and them.
“I wish I could,” I began to tell them, using only those four words, but letting the way in which I said it express the rest ...
because I know you’re hurting.
because it hurts me to say “no.”
because the Bible says to give to those who ask of you.
but I can’t because I’m 99% sure you’ll spend it on the alcohol and drugs that are killing you and I can’t help you kill yourself.
In fact, “I wish I could,” became my mantra. It’s what I still say to people on the streets who ask me for money if I’m not familiar with the resources that are readily available to help them. I’ve been saying that now for twenty years and not one person who has asked me for money on the street—in Memphis, Washington, or cities all across the country— has failed to accept “I wish I could” as an answer. God forgive me when I’m wrong.