Picture This : A NYC homeless shelter for families. The exterior is a converted hospital. To get through the doors one must pass through armed security guards after showing I.D. This is your process as a visitor.You them show ID at a another table. “May I help you? “ drips with sarcasm, because you teach a class there every week. If you are a resident the process involves you and your children going through a metal detector also. No matter that your children may have to use the bathroom. The bored guards drunk on the perceived power of the situation send some of the people back through several times as if they are taking a flight to a country on a terrorist watch list. Poverty must be a crime, because the high level screening process seems to go way beyond the safety of the residents.” Ahh , but everyone is protected” you say “They are only doing their jobs” , one can reasonably argue. Although I disagree with the overboard aspects of it, I hear you.
Fast forward to the computer/rec room. I am teaching a theatre class (for kids) with a musician and a young assistant. Many of the other kids haven’t arrived yet from dinner. This is a perfect opportunity to work with a very shy young lady who doesn’t quite understand all of the creative magic that she possesses. She is about 11 years old . You know that preteen awkward gangliness that within the span of the blink of an eye can do a turn that would make an Alvin Ailey dancer proud only to dismiss it within the same time frame? She almost in a whisper says “I wrote a song” . She pulls it out of her pocket and turns around because she doesn’t want us to look at her while she’s singing it. The song is titled “My DREAM IS NOT A JOKE” . Straining to hear her, the musician begins to play softly under her. She hears the melody from the piano and begins to sing much louder with more confidence. The look of joy and concentration on her face is priceless. Suddenly a shelter cop on duty bursts into the room with his walkie talkie on full blast. He yells out to the rec director “ Your order is here!” Assuming that he didn’t see the child singing, I give him the shh we’re working signal. Now I understand in retrospect that I should have walked across the room and pointed out the situation to him Maybe it would have made a difference in terms of the energy that led to the following exchange:
Me : Excuse me sir, but we are working here.
Cop: Who the hell do you think that you’re talking to?
Me: This is a class. We’re working with the kids here. This is rude
Cop: I can walk into any room that I need to here. I don’t give a damn what’s going on.
Me : Wow that’s deep. You’re disrespecting this kid and us when you just yell into a room
Cop: I’ll respect or disrespect anybody that I want to. ( He puts his hand on his nightstick) You got a problem with that?
Me: Yes
(call comes through on walkie talkie-he gives me a menacing look then leaves)
Another kid who had been observing this weird confrontation: Mister Daniel, they do that all of the time
Me : Kid I promise you that I’ll take the hit before I’ll allow an adult to disrespect you in any situation that I’m in. Don’t say anything before class. Just get here so that you can use your voice in a way that taps into your creative power. No one can take that away from you.
The rec director then says something really deep to me. He says, “Everyone from the top down in a homeless shelter becomes institutionalized.” Social workers, cops, and clients all normalize disrespect.” I could be talking to someone about something that they need, when all of a sudden someone who thinks that they have a greater need will interrupt me as if the person that I’m talking to wasn’t even there” He also said one the greatest things that anyone has ever said to me “ You’re one of those people that can’t ignore injustice”
The happy part of this story: The kids sang full out that night “MY DREAM IS NOT A JOKE” Our 11 year old singer songwriter couldn’t stop smiling.
