AJ Sanderson
San Antonio Gazette Culture and Life
BEXAR COUNTY- Since the height of the Recession, the nationwide homeless population swelled by 3%, a number that seems inconsequential, a trivial statistic. That trivial statistic represents over 20,000 Americans. Twenty Thousand. San Antonio, with a population of 2,072,128, counts among that number 3,222 homeless, and bears the admission that such a number is notoriously inaccurate; quite simply, a large majority of the homeless population avoid census data entirely, due to a perception of persecution from authority figures such as the SAPD. This perception, whether real or imagined, often extends to the church organizations and shelters that attempt to aid the homeless. According to one homeless man I interviewed, “They’re all part of the same system. That system put me here.” The man refused to provide a name, or allow a photo to be taken. “The police, the politicians, the church, they are all owned by the corporations, by the men in their high towers, those that corrupt the world with their will. None of you are free, and neither are we.” The current economic situation only makes the statistic more dire; as the rate of foreclosure in Texas rises (2011 saw a 4% rise), the homeless population swells accordingly. This next year, it is predicted that the homeless population could reach 3,500, the highest San Antonio has ever seen.
The social stigmata of homelessness is nothing new to our culture, but it is a disconcerting subject that is far too easily swept under the rug. These citizens, these fellow Americans, Texans, San Antonians, live in a state of near invisibility, exist in a sort of social vacuum where the eye of the general populace is blind to their presence. How many times have even the most socially conscious of us passed the woman pushing the shopping cart, and refused to acknowledge her presence, her very existence? At best, those of us fortunate enough to have a place to call home subconsciously think, “There But For The Grace of God Go I,” and quickly push the less-fortunate from our minds, so that we can hurry to our next meeting, or beat the rush to the Starbucks.
At worst, acts of violence are perpetrated, since the homeless can be seen as a target for anti-social behavior that carry little consequence. These attacks are rarely reported to the police, Without a point of contact, such as an address or phone number, many of the homeless have no recourse but to seek care at Emergency Rooms. Without any funds to spend on medical care, these people are often released prematurely in order to prevent skyrocketing costs being absorbed by the hospitals, or turned away entirely.
Susanne, a 29 year old former insurance saleswoman, lost her job to cutbacks in 2008, and her home in 2010. In January of 2011, Susanne was attacked by three men on the Riverwalk. She defended herself by breaking a bottle, cutting her hand in the process. The Emergency Room provided basic bandages, but without the ability to regularly clean and change the dressing, infection set in. Susanne’s right hand was amputated in April. Susanne retains a dark sense of humor about the entire incident, something I noticed was shared by other members of the homeless community. “Sure, I lost the hand, but it wasn’t too big a loss. Just makes holding the “Please Give” sign more difficult. And, of course, I can’t give the finger to cops anymore. So, there’s that.” Susanne laughs without smiling, and glances from side to side periodically, as if awaiting another attack. She does not tend to interact with many of the other homeless in the city, since, in her words, “I already got jumped by three psychos. I don’t need to hang out with them, too.”
The prevalence of mental illness among San Antonio’s homeless population is more than a joke. Nearly a full 30% of statistically counted homeless suffer from a severe mental illness, such as paranoid schizophrenia or manic depression, and, while medication is provided by shelters and charitable organizations, budget cuts in Federal and State programs make long term treatment a difficult prospect. “There just aren’t enough pills to go around,” said Jim McKinly, a resident doctor for the San Antonio State Hospital, “and there’s no way to keep these people on a set schedule of medication. We can hand out a bottle of pills, a 30 day supply, but it might be another three months before we see that person again. They may take the pills once every few days, to try and make them last. We usually see these kinds of patients only after a severe relapse, which undoes any sort of therapy or treatment we can offer. It’s like ice skating uphill.”
“You talk to any one of us, you take your life into your hands... or hand. I mean, I’ve got a knife in mine right now,” said Susanne. “It’s safer than a bottle, and it becomes habit. You get used to the paranoia.” Susanne’s fear is not unique. The nameless man said, “You think we’re crazy. You’re right. But we’re crazy because you made us that way, with your ads, your lies, your mind control. You ‘re part of a system that warps people, buys and sells them like property, enslaves their minds, makes them less than human. You’re turning us into the living dead.”
The danger is something that should not be overlooked. According to McKinly, “Nobody understands the risk. All the politicians are afraid of spending money, when they should be more afraid of a growing number of schizophrenics on the streets. The stories these people have are nothing short of horrifying; I’ve heard about angels that smile with a shark’s mouth full of teeth, androgynous or men with snake scales that clothe themselves in other people’s skin. They’re afraid of police, doctors, volunteers, tourists... they see monsters everywhere. They need help, and until ‘normal’ people get scared enough, they’re never going to get it.”
