Hello blog reading Beautiful Ones,
Been a while. San Francisco is blue-sky gorgeous and warm
today. The Tenderloin is touchy and changing as poor, marginalized and homeless
people are being, once again, squeezed into smaller and smaller numbers of
square block areas of the city – most in our neighborhood.
I am praising God for new government efforts to house
homeless Vets in San Francisco. And, for money to provide transitional housing
for homeless youth who come to the city when they age out of our dysfunctional
foster care system. Without housing, these kids often end up in prostitution or
drug use or both. I’m so grateful
to the President for making housing for homeless people a priority. One of my
dear ones (who is 22) just became eligible for the “kids” housing. This might
save her life…and I’m not exaggerating!
Meanwhile, the neighborhood is changing. Google, Facebook, Square and other tech firms bought buildings on Market Street in a city effort at neighborhood improvement. (Hmmm...crack houses or Google...)
Gentrification
improves the look, feel, and often the safety of a neighborhood. But, people
living on the streets are shuffled from one concrete “home” to another as
wealthy renters or condo-buyers move in where SROs, abandoned buildings or
decrepit apartments once “minimally” house dpoor people.
So, the feel of the community is changing. Plus, it’s winter
– freezing and snow elsewhere – but San Francisco offers temps in the 60s and
blue skies (that's right...we are officially whiners...complaining when it's below 60 - "freezing" - or above 80 - "too hot!"). Even the rain doesn’t last long. With winter, come new homeless
residents relocating from colder places….a considerably less upscale version of snowbirds flocking to
Florida or Arizona from the frozen chosen up in Wisconsin or New York or (have
mercy!) Boston.
Meanwhile, what’s happening at BJM? Boundaries. Boundaries. Boundaries. I’m learning how to
confront and love at the same time. "Gentle words turn away anger."
Late last week, a disturbed man threatened a tiny,
mentally-ill woman as she waited in line in front of the YWAM base for showers
on Friday morning. He moved closer
and closer to her, raising his voice and cursing. She kept whispering, “I’m first. First in line.”
I slipped through the door and gifted the man with a beaming
smile.
“Good morning,” I said. “Sounds like maybe you need help.”
He continued his tirade, adding me to the focus of his
not-so-creative but pretty raunchy string of profane words. I followed the pattern God advised
in the Book of Proverbs, chapter 15, “Gentle words turn away anger.”
The louder he got, the quieter and more slowly and more
clearly I spoke. I gestured gently
to people inside the base for someone to come to the door. A wonderful, kind and truly
calm-and-gentle man named Trevor joined me at the door. Let’s just say that together, Trevor
and I are more than 120 years old….So neither of us was impressive or scary.
Trevor just
stood quietly while I tried to gently express clear boundaries.
The guy at the door yelled (I heard some words I haven’t
heard directed at me since I taught middle and high school to juvenile delinquent boys in the department of corrections in
Illinois). I spoke more gently and slowly with each passing moment.
“You’re a…..” he yelled.
“I’m first,” whispered the little lady.
“Of course no one can threaten women here,” I said. “Do you
need help to stop?”
Same stuff…
“So, do you need me to call the police or can you stop on
your own?”
More of same…
“Trevor and I don’t want to call the police, but it’s your
choice.”
Trevor didn’t give an inch and didn’t say a word. His
calmness helped the situation as much as his presence. WE were establishing the spiritual
atmosphere, not this poor, agitated man.
Finally I spoke very slowly. “So…..you choose…you can
leave….your choice….I don’t want to call the police, but I will.”
I paused. “So. Which do you choose?”
The gentleman strode off, continuing to berate us, the poor
little woman, and the world in general.
Gentle words turn away anger. Who would have thought that a line from the Book of Proverbs
penned millennia ago would be the key for responding to an angry person in the
Tenderloin?
Gentle words…
Yesterday a LARGE, full-bearded and otherwise very hairy guy
came to the door at Nail Day and announced, “I’m a woman.” Now, not a single person in the room
thought that was true, but before we could react, he slipped in the door and
headed to the hospitality table.
The last time we had a man come into Nail Day claiming to be
female, he was aggressive, threatening and scary. In the end, it took a couple of YWAM guys and eventually a
helpful police officer who just “happened” to be driving by to help us get rid of
him.
So, when the hairy guy crowded in the door, everybody
wondered what would happen.
Six months ago, the presence of a man at Nail Day would have resulted in angry outbursts and women leaving. Now, God has given us the gift of trust.
The women trust BJM and Nail Day. They feel safe in the space. Some women moved
away from the man, but no one appeared upset or afraid.
“He just wants brownies and coffee,” observed one of the
women. “He’s a bushwacker,” said another. (Not exactly sure what a bushwacker
is, but…it fit with the beard and general hairiness…)
I sat down next to “Kenny” at the art table and asked a bit
about him. He actually acted like a sweet, even genial person. He stuck with
his story about being a woman, showing me his pink scarf as evidence. He said he was taking “the trip of my
life” after spending a couple of years caring for his sick brother. “I’m
traveling around the whole country. But, ‘cause it’s winter, I started with
California.”
He enjoyed a few brownies and a cup of hot coffee. I asked if he had connected with San
Francisco’s transgender community. “Nope, he said. “They don’t seem so
friendly.”
I smiled. “Could I say something honest to you?”
Kenny nodded.
“If you want people to believe you’re transgender, something
has to go….” I gestured toward my chin. “The beard….Otherwise women won’t feel
safe around you.”
He raised his hand protectively toward the salt-and-pepper
forest on his face. “Shave it off?”
I nodded.
Kenny looked uncomfortable.
“Oh yeah. I should. I”ll do
that…Yeah….I’ll go to the barber and shave it off. Sure.”
“Women want to feel safe here,” I continued. “Sometimes men
come in and say they’re transgender when they aren’t. Recently one man was actually aggressive
and made suggestive comments to women. The women felt really unsafe.”
Kenny nodded again. “If that happens, let me know. I used to
be a bouncer ya know.”
I smiled and didn’t break eye contact.
Kenny smiled.
Then, he said, “Thanks so much for the coffee.”
“Yes. Nice to meet you.”
He got up and headed for the door.
I don’t think we’ll see Kenny again. Yet, I’m glad we found
a way to treat him with respect and honesty. Gentle words….even though Kenny
wasn’t in the least angry.
