Having a Vagina and Homelessness

Well, being a woman in this world is hard. You are born at a slight disadvantage, provided you are born in a country like the United States.  You are born to an extreme disadvantage in less progressive countries, or ones with strict value sets (which may or may not include women as lesser people) if you are lucky enough to be born at all.


Being a woman and homeless in the US has its ups and downs.  It varies greatly in different areas of the country, different states and even within neighboring cities.  In my experience women with children are always treated differently, usually put above and before anyone else, as they should be.


Of course as a woman with a child, sometimes you face scorn or judgement (actually this is common place) as if you are a horrible mother for being unable to provide for your child, or for bringing them into this world, in such a dark place, such as domestic violence. My experience with this is limited, so I can't really go into great detail about it.


However as a single childless woman (if your child is not physically with you, you are considered childless in most situations) its a grab bag as to what you will experience.  

Most commonly you will experience degrading comments, assumptions that you are a drug/alcohol abuser, that you are lazy and incompetent and looking for a hand out, a social failure, corrupted and damaged, or that you must be crazy... and thats just when you are looking for help and/or a place to stay.

 Some of the problems on the street (or in a shelter, or even in life) that I have personally faced include but are not limited to:  Domestic Violence
                            Rape/Sexual Assault
                            Violent Crimes
                            Theft
                            Harassment
                            Abuse (of all kinds)

 
I have had attempts on my life made more than once, even twice while pregnant (two separate pregnancies, two different men making the attempts) 

It doesn't really bother me and I suppose it should. I think I cope by numbing myself to it and just taking away a life experience.

Anyways, women face quite a bit of stigma.  Of course men do too, but not nearly to the degree women do, at least in my experience.  I am consistently looked at as less because I do not bring my child with me into this. (Might I add, sending my child away was the hardest thing I have *ever* had to do) I am looked at as a drain on society, a person who just wants everyone else to provide for her, an incapable slut because I have never been married.

Don't mind the fact that I have a Masters degree, I am useless and just want handouts, right?

I am looked at as an object, as just another person.  As I've explained previously, we all got here (homeless) in a different way. Everyone has different needs. Programs with individualized case management plans are far more successful than lump sum programs, that do little to address WHY a person became homeless to begin with.

Sometimes I hear you have to have a child to live here, to stay here, to obtain services. Well, I am doing the best thing I can for my child, by NOT bringing her into this, so thats just not an option. I will not corrupt someone elses life, especially that of my own child, to advance my own.


Then I hear I have to be a substance abuser. Great, so because I am clean and sober (and prefer it that way) that you can't help me. Okay, everyone needs a boost and help and addicts do too.  


But then I hear, well, we can't help you because you are a woman. Well why? 'because we don't serve women, there just aren't that many homeless women.'


This is true. I don't know statistics, but I'm sure its at least a 1:5 ratio, women to men.


Well then, what do you suggest I do? 'Find a friend'. Yes, because all us women are social creatures that help one another. *cough*


Although I have a number of friends that would probably help me, many live too far for me even to contact them regularly, much less live with them. Many have families of their own, or are in college and simply can't add another person, who realistically can't contribute much at the moment.


So, I'm left playing the waiting game.


Waiting for a solution, a hand. I'm sure I'm not the only homeless woman experiencing this and I'm sure others find far better solutions to this than I can.  
 
So my question is.. well, what are we supposed to do?
I am constantly solicited, especially on the streets, usually by disgusting men (You'd be surprised how many white collar men also solicit me) usually using the line of 'well it will help both of us out, if you know what I mean' usually followed with a sick laugh or smile.

I am not a hooker. I am not a prostitute. I will not lower myself, put myself in danger or bad situations for a meal, a quick buck, or the possible opportunity of somewhere to sleep for a night.


I'll take my chances on the street, thanks.  At least there I can RUN.

 

How I Got Here

I don't really have a format for this yet, I suppose its more of an insight into the world, my world, of homeless and the struggles and challenges I face on a daily basis.
For anyone who might stumble across this and wonder just how a homeless person is writing a blog on the Internet (shouldn't I have more important priorities.. like selling my stuff to have somewhere to live, perhaps?) well let me tell you.

Homeless is not just living on the streets. It can be living in your car, at a day shelter, a 'working shelter', domestic violence shelter, or just surfing on a friends couch, not knowing if you will be there the next day.


I happen to fall into most of the aforementioned categories,but usually either living in my car, or at a domestic violence shelter.  Currently I'm couch surfing (until tomorrow) at a friends house, who just so happens to have WiFi.


I have a net book that was given to me, which is about 8 years old and so slow it takes me 15 minutes to load Google, but it does its job. Unfortunately its so old and slow I couldn't pay someone to take it and thus, if I can find WiFi, I can write. (Fast food establishments usually leave their WiFi on even after they close at night)


I am lucky, I have  a car. Its old and small (and could use a really good cleaning) and when it dies, well I probably won't be getting another one unless my circumstances change for the better.


I came from the north to take a shot at my luck in the Nashville area and no, not as a musician. Although I have great respect for musicians and artists of all kinds, I certainly do not have the talent or the patience to be one.


I took a leap of faith and trusted family members (perhaps my first mistake) to help pull me out of a very dark time in my life-- recovering after a very serious domestic violence incident.

The domestic violence incident happened to be with an ex relationship of mine, of the serious variety, who nearly killed me, a friend and himself in what I can only assume was in an attempt to try to make a very muddled point. Due to very serious gaps in our laws and even more serious gaps in enforcement of the few good laws we do have (along with a barrel of rotten apple law professionals) I was forced into a domestic violence shelter for my own safety and eventually out of my jobs, continuing education and eventually my state.


I don't want to make myself identifiable just yet so my details are intentionally vague.

My move to the south didn't go so well.  Lets just say, everything went well for about, a month. First problem? I'm fat. Obese, in fact. Not only am I obese, but I have had weight loss surgery (of the reversible kind) which due to my circumstances, has had absolutely no effect. I remain at the weight I was nearly two years ago when I paid for the operation. (I will talk about obesity, poverty and homelessness in another post)


My so called family (DNA donor?) didn't like that. The fact that I can't eat more than a cup of food at a meal was just not right to them. Or that I would rather bypass the fried chicken dinners for say, a salad was just unacceptable. I was constantly critiqued and criticized and eventually had enough.


I also had to deal with major inequality, as a sibling of mine was literally spoiled rotten, while I was literally abused.  I had everything I owned literally stolen from me and was then kicked out on the streets for trying to do something about it. Not only was everything stolen from me, but said crazy ex was given every detail of my life, down to my hair color and my sleeping habits.

What little I had left, I packed into my car along with my dog (a ten pound chi mix) and  checked into yet another domestic violence shelter.  After seven days, I had to leave there due to my schizophrenic roommate, who was clearly unstable (and untreated) and would stand over me in my sleep singing lyrics to death metal songs about, well..death.




..To be continued