Obama spoke of "our collective failure to make hard choices"
that line folded into the -integrity and ownership of our troubles- and it made me feel more courage...within myself to shelve my sleepiness and apparent apathy, as I searched the floating faces in my subway car for familiar eyes, on the freezing harsh avenues, and in the warm hallways of the shelter as I wove around my girls to begin MY work day. I need courage everyday.
I walk into the office to find the director of the the crisis floors waiting to speak with all staff, while we tried to make our floors condition seem infinitely more organized than we were. Truth is we are in over our heads, and I couldn't begin to pin point in what arena we were failing enough to merit a visit to the crisis floor itself. What is so urgent that a memo couldn't be sent and ignored? 80 young women who have found themselves in crisis and experiencing homelessness, two staff to orchestrate the chaos of daily "progress". This was the first director to inform us this would be their last day. As the afternoon wore on we became aware that 19 directors and coordinators were being let go, effective that day. Leaving my Agency with street cloths wearing front liners, those of us who work with our kids directly, and what seemed like all the suits upstairs, all the names I see in memo's and such. As middle management (coordinators) trickled in through out the afternoon to say goodbyes and thank yous, I unfolded and refolded my portable -integrity and ownership of our troubles- as it became a very real part of my story.
Those directors who walked into my building in the morning because they love and believe in the dignity and potential of our kids, walked out of our shelter that evening for the last time in a last act of love and sacrifice for our youth. With only hours notice that this was their last days, my directors walked with courage with such integrity through the last hours of their shifts. They could have walked out, they could have hid in their offices packing up pictures and belongings, they could have ignored the youth crying, the youth with a drug habit and the chaos of running a floor of street kids. Till the last minutes though the really served our agency and our kids, and that is not easy on any day, never mind, ones last. As they walked out, seemingly for the last time, we all knew, all the frontliners...that they were ensuring our kids would eat, and the shelter would still run, medicine could be afforded, metro cards could be handed out for jobs, and we wouldn't run out of towels and blankets. At least for now.
I am scared for what happens next, I am concerned about the suits providing the frontliners with adequate support, so that we can maintain a safe healthy place for my girls. I am scared that we have grown so big, and now we have lost, in the matter of a handful of hours, some of the most clever and dedicated minds at our shelter. Those who's presence was actually felt by my girls, and my staff. We are already understaffed and overwhelmed, each day is it's own whirlwind. A situation which I have been carefully avoiding processing for three months now.
I left work late, letting the elevator doors close amidst a wave of "but missssss I need....can you just...where are you going...who's going to..." and in the last seconds of the closing doors "okay gooood night miss kelly...get home safe...be careful...g'nights!". I love these girls. I love the ones that drive me insane, and the ones who I can count on to be polite and motivated. I love saying goodnight to the girls who chase after me down the hall, and the ones who are still too mad at me for something I said or didn't give them earlier to respond back. I love walking away from the shelter in the freezing street and knowing they are warm, safe, fed, and looked after every night. This night I felt the fragility of our huge shelter and how fleeting the longevity of our services can be.
The rest of my night I can't really articulate yet. I turned on my music and listened to your songs Robyn as I rode the longest E train ride of my New York existence. At one stop a man got on clutching the top of a shoe box on it written "I am homeless-please help- I need a coat". He was probably young 30's decently dressed, seemingly sober and freezing...my analysis went on as I guessed at his limp...at how long he'd been on the street, as I judged his stories and his claims and examined the stains on his jeans to his hair. I feel a bit numb to suffering, and now I am unintentionally critiquing the severity and legitimacy of homelessness....like one might analyze a Gauguin. When I realized what I was doing tears started pouring down my face and all i could do was shrink back into my hoody and look up at the trains roof. Float was playing and I was neither on or off the train, and I felt like I was floating somewhere just above it all of this. So Robyn, I finally broke and had to think about all that has been happening around me, and through me. Float started it : ) So i hope you don't mind me borrowing your song, to undue some of this damage I've done by swallowing my questions and thoughts these past months.
You would be with me in the moment I finally stop ignoring the intensity of my life as of late!
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