Listening with empathy: what it taught me about homelessness and race in America
On a recent beautiful, sunny day I visited the corner of Mount and Presbury Streets in Baltimore. This corner has a rich history as families have lived here for many years. It is also home to one of the memorial murals created after the death of Freddie Gray and a painful reminder of the protests that followed. These memorials stand as community tributes to his life, reminders of his death and calls to action. As I looked at the wall I was humbled by its compelling artistry and left speechless by the words “Rest in Power”, “Seek Knowledge”, “Empowerment” and “Enlightenment”.
I was soon approached by Mr. J who walked across the street calling, “Hello! We saw you from the store and I thought to myself ‘this is a nice morning to say hello to a pretty lady’”. This statement was followed by a quick series of questions checking to determine if I should be welcomed in the community space recently taken over by so many non-residents. I wanted to tell him that I was there because of my work as a diversity educator and my role as a mom trying to provide balance to my white, middle class kids. Most of all, I wanted to tell him that I was there because I was dismayed that we continue to have the same conversations about race and feel we aren’t moving ahead at the pace we should. But without the words to express all of these reasons, I simply told him that ‘I felt called to visit it’ and hoped my answer was satisfactory. He looked at me, smiled and we shook hands. When we introduced ourselves, Mr. J apologized for not smiling saying he was homeless and didn’t have all of his teeth. When I told him I appreciated the smile in his eyes, he giggled.
What we talked about will continue to touch my soul for many years to come. Mr. J told me about the time he served in prison and said that when he was released, he had nowhere to go. Weighed down by rejection and having no marketable skills, he was never able to consistently leave homelessness. We talked about religion and found that we shared a belief in approaching relationships from a place of love and spirit not limited to the rooms where we may worship. We talked about men and women and found another shared belief in the importance of respecting each other. When we talked about homelessness our sharing stopped because I had no frame of reference for being homeless. I admitted that in my transfixion on the events in Baltimore surrounding Mr. Gray’s death, I did not once think of the homeless population.
Mr. J. educated me on another dimension of those events.
When the City of Baltimore was on police mandated lockdown, its residents were told to ‘go to their homes or face being arrested’ but no one asked where those without homes could go. What happened to those people when the makeshift homes they developed and lived in over the years were trampled on by people and vehicles?
What did a homeless resident of Baltimore do when the shelter beds were filled but they were not allowed on the streets? These questions added to the long list of questions in my mind. Yet, they were also indicative of the long standing, deeper issues than those highlighted by news outlets. I imagine that I wasn’t alone in neglecting these areas of discussion during those few days.
I don’t pretend to be someone who knows how we got here but I am certain that by listening with empathy and openness to citizens like Mr. J and truly understanding their stories we can create change.We must look at the murals in our cities that serve as a documentation of local history and recognize the messages in art as calls to action. To create sustainable change we must listen to the voices of our children asking us how to partner with them to create the future they want to have. We need to see each other as citizens of equal importance. I am certain by doing these things we will be change agents seeking to learn from each other and to move these questions to the past.
That morning Mr. J became my teacher and I believe we both meant it when we shook hands looked deep into each other’s eyes truly acknowledging each other. Sharing our time together was a true blessing. As I was getting ready to leave, I asked Mr. J if it was OK for me take a picture of the mural and he said that would be a good idea but didn’t want to be in it, adding with a broad smile that “the ladies might find him”. I took my pictures, shook his hand and thanked him again for his time and openness. But as I walked away he called out, “Jennifer”, you can take my picture too.”
I posted the picture of the mural on this blog but I am keeping the picture of Mr. J with his hand on the painted handprint made by a child for my own private reflection, to remind me to acknowledge and listen to those around me, a reminder I frequently need in these busy times when it is is easy to focus too much on our own experiences.
Follow up: After meeting Mr. J and understanding that listening with empathy promotes growth, I signed up to volunteer for the Baltimore Project Homeless Connect.
Bio: Jen Cort’s educational passion is creating safe spaces for kids to be seen and heard at all times while learning to use their voices and be visible in ways that work for them. She is able to help schools in this work through her years of experience as a Division Head of an independent school clinical social worker, school counselor and author. Jen is also an Ashoka Empathy Ambassador. You could read more about her work on her website.
