Building The Beacon Begins With Understanding Homelessness: A Shift In Perspective
By Xiao Liu, Volunteer Blog Writer at Mentor A Promise
Before we discuss homelessness as a social issue, I’d like to share two personal stories.
The Man At The Traffic Light: What We Don’t See About Homelessness
One day, my husband and I were driving — I was in the passenger seat — when we stopped at a red light. He pointed to the rearview mirror and said, “Did you see that? A man just got out of that beautiful red muscle car with a sign saying he needs money.” I followed his gaze, but the man quickly disappeared from the mirror. “See?” my husband continued. “He’s over there now, standing on the traffic island, panhandling.”
I saw the man, wearing a leather jacket that wasn’t tattered, holding and shaking his sign. From time to time, he pulled the jacket tighter—it looked like it once had a zipper, but the pull was missing. “This guy’s lying,” my husband muttered. “He’s pretending to be homeless.”
“Hey,” I said, “do you know what couch surfing is? It’s when someone moves from house to house, sleeping wherever there’s a spare couch or floor space, such as at a friend’s or relative’s place, staying only a few days before moving on. They don’t have steady money or food. Everything in their life is temporary. Tonight or tomorrow, they might lose their place to sleep, and with it, their access to food and health. ”
My husband fell silent. When the man approached our car, he lowered the window on his side and handed him some cash. The light turned green. He pressed the gas pedal and let out a barely audible sigh. He now realized that the man was truly homeless, but also knew that what he had given wouldn’t change anything; occasional acts of individual kindness would not solve the suffering of this man and others like him.
Although couch surfing is recognized as a form of homelessness under the McKinney–Vento Act, it is classified as “doubling up” by the Department of Education and the Department of Health and Human Services, and it is generally not counted as homelessness by the Department of Housing and Urban Development. This discrepancy limits access to certain services—especially housing assistance—for individuals and families experiencing homelessness.
Rethinking the Mainstream Conversation About Homelessness
Another story begins when the COVID-19 pandemic had just started, and few people had yet realized how serious it was. I had just flown back to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where I was pursuing my master’s degree, after attending a PhD program recruitment interview in another state. I ordered an Uber after walking out through the airport’s arrival doors. On the way home, we passed the edge of a neighborhood. The driver pointed toward it and said, “Black neighborhood. City termites. Never step in. Drugs, crime, violence — all around, generation after generation.”
It wasn’t the neighborhood he described that frightened me, but the words he chose to describe it. “You know,” I said, expressing my disagreement, “they lack food, money, stable emotional support, and education. It’s hard for them to break the cycle. There are so few resources to help them move forward. Nobody wants to live a stagnant, hopeless life, but they have to survive, literally.” Humans are passive and vulnerable to Satan’s temptation when God’s voice cannot reach them in time to guide them—I didn’t say this part aloud; I held it back when I saw the driver’s expression change.
“Lady,” he said to me, “see those in the Latino neighborhoods? They also lack the resources you mentioned, but they’re hardworking, and they’re obedient. They’re much better.” He had an imposing, resolute presence—there was no doubt about it. His expression seemed to suggest that he saw himself as the final judge.
I stayed silent until we got home. I felt choked, powerless, and saddened by the driver’s pride and prejudice. He belonged to the ordinary social class yet seemed to hold an elitist mindset—one shaped by the voices of those in power and often unconsciously shared by people like him, like me, like most of us. Although his words sounded eloquent, I sensed a mixture of fear, anxiety, paranoia, panic, vulnerability, and uneasiness in his expression—likely stemming from the dissonance between his lived reality and his imagined social standing. Those who are overlooked struggle to break the historical iron chains on their ankles—some through addiction, others through submission—while those shaped by overwhelming mainstream views remain trapped within them.
Mainstream media outlets have been found to tend to attribute individual rather than structural-level responsibility for poverty-related issues, including homelessness [1]. Instead of examining policy failures or systemic inequalities, mainstream coverage often emphasizes unemployment, substance use, personal misconduct, or unstable family situations among those experiencing poverty. In this sense, the public may be led to perceive poverty as an individual problem—one primarily caused by personal shortcomings and therefore best addressed through individual-level actions such as charity or volunteerism. While these efforts are undoubtedly valuable, promoting them as the primary solution aligns with, rather than challenges, the economic and policy forces that perpetuate the issue [2]. Thus, before addressing what we collectively suffer, we—the public, the voters—must first gain a fair understanding of what homelessness truly is. God’s voice is always present, yet it is often drowned out by human bias born of original sin.
Who Should Be Blamed? Spoiler: Not The Homeless
In New York City—the nation’s leading center for culture, finance, and media, and often regarded as the cultural, financial, and media capital of the world—69% of people in shelters as of August 2025 were members of homeless families, including 35,405 children. That same month, another 31,952 single adults sought shelter. [3] Furthermore, most families entering shelters come from a small cluster of ZIP codes located in New York City’s lowest-income neighborhoods. Nonetheless, every community district across the city plays a part in the continuing homelessness crisis. [4]
Specifically, throughout the 2023–2024 school year, over 146,000 children in New York City’s public schools lacked stable housing at some point, meaning that about one in eight students experienced homelessness. [5] In his news article 154,000 New York City Students Were Homeless Last Year, a Record Number, Troy Closson, a New York Times reporter covering education and youth in New York, used a metaphor: “If children who lack permanent housing made up their own school district, it would be among the nation’s 20 largest public school systems—bigger than those in major cities such as Baltimore, Denver, Philadelphia or San Diego.” [6]
Who should be blamed? Or, put another way, who should bear primary responsibility? It should not be the individual who lost their job, the person celebrating a birthday in a shelter, the mother who gave birth to several children but cannot afford their education or basic needs, the one so mentally afflicted that they turn to drugs, the person who cannot stop getting into trouble or lives in an environment fraught with crime, or the tenant who has been evicted multiple times for failing to pay rent or a security deposit. They are not the ones to blame. They are the ones who need understanding and help.
In a CNN documentary, we meet a single mother named Dayisja, who is raising two school-aged children. She works, yet she still cannot earn enough to cover rent. Dayisja represents the 92% of homeless single mothers with children who share similar struggles. “The way they have the world set up right now is……causing homelessness. The rent out here is ridiculous. Grocery prices are ridiculous. How much do you have to pay in daycare, and then having to go to work just to pay for daycare, but not having enough money for food? It’s the issue,” she said. [7]
Imagine this: one day, people experiencing homelessness can walk into a welcoming, diverse neighborhood and rent a home they can truly afford—one that still leaves enough of their paycheck for food, clothing, self-growth, and a little joy. In that world, they wouldn’t have to fight to keep a job, pay rent, or break free from the endless cycle of violence, addiction, and poverty.
Imagine this: one day, children experiencing homelessness can attend integrated schools, make friends freely, and take part in a variety of after-school programs. And when they return home, it’s to a spacious, clean place where they can focus on their studies instead of spending long hours on chores or being distracted by the cries of younger siblings and the tension between parents. In that world, they can chase their passions, learn without interruption, and grow into confident, well-rounded individuals.
Imagine this: one day, when we talk about or walk through different neighborhoods, we no longer think in terms of color or race but simply feel that we belong to one human family, sharing the same hopes and dignity. If that day comes, those who are now homeless would no longer live in fear of slipping back into hardship—into lives marked by overcrowded housing, domestic violence, job loss, and unsafe living conditions.
Homelessness is a sociopolitical issue, stemming largely from systemic and structural inequalities, even though earlier media narratives have tended to emphasize individual shortcomings or deviant behavior. [8] [9] [10] People experiencing homelessness are among “the most vulnerable to systematic deprivation”. [11]
The difficulties often described as personal “deficits” may actually result from, or be intensified by, the conditions of life on the streets or in shelters. [12] Research on housing and homelessness has consistently underscored sociopolitical structural drivers such as the shortage of affordable housing, gentrification, unemployment [13] [14], and poverty [15]. In addition to these systemic factors, inadequate access to mental health and substance use services also contributes to homelessness, while for many women, domestic violence remains the primary cause. [16]
By reflecting on existing policies and institutions related to housing insecurity and homelessness (and their failures)—rather than focusing solely on individual factors—we can gain a renewed perspective on the issue. This awareness can empower us, as voters, to advocate for and drive social change, with charity and volunteerism serving as essential complements. Such an approach not only helps address the problem but also contributes to a healthier, more participatory democratic process.
This post opens a blog series titled Building The Beacon Begins With Understanding Homelessness, which seeks to thoughtfully explore the issue of homelessness from a socio-political perspective. In the upcoming posts, we will continue this discussion by exploring pertinent topics such as the structural roots of housing insecurity and homelessness, educational disparities, economic deprivation, social disorganization, housing discrimination, and public health.
If you have any thoughts or ideas to share, or if there are related topics you’d like to see covered in this blog series, feel free to contact us or leave a comment below. We look forward to your feedback—stay tuned!
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