On the Challenges of Being a Change Agent
There was a man I will call Joseph, who had been living in a shelter for three years while struggling with schizophrenia and substance abuse. As we talked about his struggle toward stability, he looked me in the eyes and said, “David, I am not incompetent. I just need help moving the obstacles out of the way.”
At the time, my core work was providing mental health services for people in Seattle who were experiencing long-term homelessness.
I thought I was part of the solution
As we continued our conversation, I slowly realized that one of the obstacles he was talking about was me — or, rather, the ways in which my government agency had structured the limited services available to Joseph (which, by the way, did not include permanent housing). His comment cut my very identity — I thought of myself as a dedicated change agent — and his criticism was difficult for me to acknowledge and accept. Over three decades since that encounter, I’ve continued to struggle with what it means to be a true agent of change.
Change is the inevitable drumbeat of human experience. As we grow and age, as our relationships with others evolve, as the places we call home shift, there’s very little that stays consistent over time. That creates a tension between the desire for change — which most of us agree that we want — and our willingness to change ourselves, which most of us resist and avoid for as long as we can.
Part of this is our natural reluctance to admit that we aren’t perfect (eyeroll please), and that we might be more a part of the problem than we care to recognize. How many times, as a kid, did I point at my older sister and exclaim: “It’s not my fault. It’s hers! I’m not to blame!” Sometimes I was right. (I still like to believe that). But that’s kidding myself. I was just as prone to misbehavior as my sister — if not more so.
More than half a century later, there’s a lot that I still don’t get right — I probably can’t even name it all, (just ask my husband). How often, and in what ways, do I resist recognizing and acknowledging where my efforts might be part of the problem — and how do I change my behaviors or practices accordingly. Life is so much easier when everything is someone else’s fault or responsibility — that way, it’s their responsibility to change, not mine.
For a species that has developed outstanding skills at resisting change, it’s hard to own that change is the inevitable. Whether at individual, family, organizational or community levels, we will remain frustrated and annoyed until we can embrace change gracefully. This creates a challenge for those of us who like to think of ourselves as change agents. Too often, we might focus first on changing others, a community, or a system, before reckoning with the changes we should make in ourselves.
Homelessness as a symptom of systemic disease
Much of my career as an aspiring change agent has been tackling the complex and thorny issue of homelessness. Given that homelessness remains a national crisis of epidemic proportions, I have to acknowledge either that I’m not very good at my job, or that we’re not using the right approaches. While there is progress in the thousands of previously homeless individuals and families who are now stably housed, the reality is that too many are still becoming homeless — which means that our “solutions” are missing something.
To borrow language from health care, homelessness is not the disease, but a symptom of underlying illnesses. Working to end homelessness is, of course, a worthy effort — the physician first seeks to alleviate the suffering caused by the symptoms of the disease. But treating the symptoms does not affect the cause or cure the illness.
What are the illnesses that cause our epidemic of homelessness? I believe there are four of them: structural racism, institutionalized sexism, extreme income inequality and the fragmentation of the safety net. To truly end homelessness, these are the systemic diseases we must address.
The extreme disproportionality of homelessness among communities of color is evidence of the intersection with structural racism. The over-representation of single mothers who are heads of homeless families similarly points to social and economic impacts of gender inequity. The reality that too many hard-working adults end up homeless highlights the devastating consequences of extreme income disparities. Individualized blame and conversations about the deserving versus undeserving poor leaves vulnerable children, adults and families without a safety net or the core social supports that make the difference between crisis and stability.
Progress is possible
These realities point my own practice in a new direction. As we redouble efforts to alleviate the immediate symptom of homelessness that is devastating urban, suburban and rural communities, we simultaneously need to focus change agent energies on the underlying conditions that create and sustain the crisis. That requires the public will and civic muscle to reach across sectors to build a coalition of grassroots community activists, government, business, philanthropic, and non-profit partners who will align their energies for common cause.
This is not unlike the global efforts underway to eradicate polio, malaria, HIV and other neglected diseases that devastate under-represented and disempowered communities and nations. Our success on these fronts is dependent on sharing time, energy, resources and passion. And those efforts are paying off. We are making remarkable, measurable progress that has saved literally millions of lives — especially among children in the developing world.
Vanessa German, a self-described “Citizen Artist” in Pittsburgh, PA, put it very simply when she challenged her neighbors to address the structural foundations of their own, impoverished community: “You need to make a decision,” she said.
To follow Vanessa’s advice, collectively, we need to make a decision. And the change we need to make requires changing ourselves, and owning the challenges we face together. Structural racism, sexism, income inequity and the holes ripped in the safety net may be harder to isolate than a parasite or virus, but the devastation they create are just as deadly.
“I’m not incompetent. I just need help moving the obstacles out of the way.” So many years ago, my friend in the Seattle shelter got it right. I wish I had heard him more clearly back then.
