I Thought Gay Celibacy Was My Only Option — I Was Wrong
The most difficult part of convincing someone when you are begging for food is figuring out what kind of face to make — appearing both in need and deserving somehow. Look too desperate and they will think you might make a grab for their purse or ask to move into the spare bedroom. Too responsible and they’ll wonder whether you really need help at all.
I begged in France while living with a religious order. “We have nothing to eat. Do you have anything you could share?” I would smile and hold the straps to my backpack like an earnest schoolboy. Hungry, but honest.
I had never begged on the street before and was struck by how humbling it is — asking strangers to keep you alive just because they can. And you can’t.
“No,” the eighth woman I asked scowled at me from behind her front door. “Go away.”
I wanted to tell her No really I have no food, no money. I don’t have, like, options here. Do you want to feel my stomach rumbling? Check my pockets for a wallet?
Eventually, a man invited my companion and I into his house and began making each of us a sandwich with thick slices of cured ham. Standing in his kitchen he asked us where we were traveling and why we were begging.
