When I wrote “Excuse me if I don’t cry …” I wrote it about my experiences. But the more I thought about it, the more I started to see all my friends and other homeless people doing the same.
The first thing that popped in my head was when we were camped out in front of the administration building in Seattle, Wash. We were camped out there because the county closed its only indoor shelter. They didn’t open it up, so we camped outside, in front of the front entrance, with three sides were blocked off. This was in the middle of winter, so it rained, snowed, and when the wind would blow it would whip all of them together. We slept on mats and covered up with blankets. When it rained they put tarps over us.
The entrance way was all glass, including two double doors. When we first started camping out, there were eight security guards watching us. We could see them through the glass. They had a table and some chairs, so when the security guards would come in they’d take off their coats and put them on the backs of the chairs. Then sit down and watch us sleep.
We would encourage the homeless people not to look at the security guards knowing that they’re in a nice warm place inside the building. Every now and then, the people would come up to me and say, “Leo, look at those guards sitting there eating pizza, or playing cards. How can they do that, when we’re freezing our asses out here? It’s inhumane.”
I replied, “Yes, I know, don’t look at them ‘cause you might freak out.”
“But Leo…” they would start to say. I would interrupt them and say, “Hey we’re talking to the county council trying to get us inside.” There were five people who flipped out. They went to the glass and hit it with their fists, and said, “I can’t take it anymore, let me in. I’m cold.” Their friends and others ran over to them, surrounding them in support, and comforting them. A little after this somebody would come to me. They would tell me, “Leo, you need to do something.”
I’d reply, “I am, I’m speaking to the decision makers and telling them what’s going on.”
The other thing that popped in my head also happened in Seattle, years before this incident. I had a friend, he was half Choctaw. We would talk about reservation life and what happened during that week, mostly about homeless issues. So we met every Sunday morning at a Starbucks. We would talk for a couple of hours. By that time we’d be warm, and other places started opening up about that time, and the non-homeless people would start coming in.
This particular morning there was a new guy in Starbucks. He was sitting by himself. My friend was really annoyed by this. I mean every time we would talk his voice drifted off and he would look at the new guy. Finally my friend couldn’t take it any longer, he got up, walked over to the new guy and stood right in front of him. Then my friend said, “Hey man what’s your problem?” The guy looked up at my friend. He looked really scared. Then the guy stuttered, “I – I don’t have any money.” My friend looked at him, then looked at me, then back at the guy again. And said, “Now, I didn’t ask you that, I ask you what your problem was?” The guy looked even more scared as he stuttered out, “I – I’m homeless, and I’ve never been homeless before. I don’t know what to do.”
“Aw man,” my friend replied. Then said, “Well, we’re all homeless here. If you have any questions just ask us.” My friend noticed the guy didn’t have any coffee. So he asked, “You don’t have any coffee, don’t you like coffee?”
The guy said, “I love coffee. But I’m homeless, I don’t have any money.”
My friend replied, “OK.” Then turned around and took off his baseball cap, flipped it upside down. Then exclaimed, “Hey everybody, can I have your attention. This man over here just became homeless and he doesn’t have any money and he wants some coffee. I know you have a little bit of money to spare.” So everybody pitched in, and my friend bought the coffee and gave it to the new guy.
The man got the coffee, he was looking into the cup. Fighting his tears he said, “Last year I was an aerospace engineer. I made $300,000. Now look at me. I’m homeless with no money. I can’t even buy myself a cup of coffee. Homeless people had to buy my cup of coffee. Can it get any worse than this?” Then he started to cry.
My friend said, “Whoa, whoa, don’t cry. On the street you can’t show weakness. If you show weakness, you’ll go crazy. Never show weakness.”
“But I don’t know where to go, where to eat, where to sleep.” When the guy started crying, that caught all the homeless peoples attention. As the guy asked the question, “Where to eat?” Everybody replied, “Union gospel.” My friend smiled and said, “He doesn’t know where it’s at, and I can’t take him. I’m going to meet my granddaughter.” My friend looked at me. I replied, “I have meetings all day. I can’t do it.” Two guys offered to show him the ropes.
These are just two examples of putting on your game face. There are many, many more. When I first started my advocacy, non-homeless people used to always ask me, “Why aren’t homeless people ever happy?” If you’re a homeless person you’re probably laughing or very angry. I had a lot of homeless people come up to me and say, “You’re a homeless advocate and you don’t even know the answer.”
“I do know the answer, but the non-homeless don’t,” I’d reply. There are many, but the most common are: shelters, affordable housing, jobs, food, health care, child care, transportation, and so on, and so on.
So remember, never judge a book by its cover.
Rest In Peace (Excuse me if I don’t cry, I’m putting on my game face) by Leo Rhodes
Excuse me if I don’t cry
I see your pain
I feel your pain
I hear you pain
We talk
Some good
Some bad
We laugh
Sometimes you cry,
Needing a hug
I don’t do hugs,
But if asked I’ll give you one.
Your pain is in my heart
Excuse me if I don’t cry
I’m putting on my game face
The world is big
They don’t understand
So I will fight
Till the world understands
Or till I’m too tired to fight
Until then
Excuse me if I don’t cry
I’m putting on my game face
Rest in peace
My brothers and sisters