A Wanderer’s Reflection

Hello everyone! It has been a while since I last chatted with you as a friend. Recently I have been busy preparing for the CPA exam, but today I want to take some time to share my experience volunteering at a homeless shelter near my school. Let me take you into this journey that has truly moved me.

I don’t like to overgeneralize. Everything I share is based only on what I have seen and heard. If anything is not comprehensive enough, please bear with me.

First Encounter: Fear in California

The first time I came into contact with homeless people was when I was studying in California. I didn’t have a car back then, so I bought a scooter. Every time I rode to the supermarket to buy groceries, I passed through an area where homeless people gathered.

When I first arrived in the U.S., I was full of fear toward the homeless. Back in China, I rarely saw homeless people on the streets. What I knew about them came from news reports, which often portrayed them as dangerous, people with mental illness or long-term drug addiction.

I was also told that homelessness in America exists because people are lazy, addicted to drugs, or have mental health issues, and that the government gives them money so they never want to work. So whenever I saw a homeless person from a distance, I would take a detour.

One time after shopping, a homeless person came up to me asking for money. I didn’t have any cash, so I told him no, I was so afraid that he might shoot me or rob me. Luckily, he didn’t push and just left.

Later, I followed friends from church to a local homeless shelter to volunteer. I don’t remember the specific details, only that it seemed to be only for women and children. The church pastor and several devout Christians came along. They taught the children, while some other girls and I led craft activities.

One person left a deep impression on me: a Black girl born in 2003. She had her first child while living in the shelter. I born in 2002, I was a little bit shocked at that time. When I was there, her baby was less than a year old. We didn’t talk much, because at that time I was not confident in my English, and I didn’t know how to start a conversation with her.

Moving to Saint Louis: Music, Friends, and a Homeless Man Who Watched My Car

After graduation, I moved from Riverside to Saint Louis and started working at a non Chinese company. After a few months, my spoken English improved a lot. Because I like playing guitar and love music, I slowly made some local American friends.

One of them is a musician who lives downtown, which is said to be the most dangerous area in Saint Louis. My friends and I would occasionally go to his place. At first I parked in the underground garage, but later the administrator warned me that I couldn’t park there because I was not a resident. I had to park on the street.

Online, many people say it’s dangerous to park downtown because your car window can easily be smashed and things stolen. There are many such posts on Rednote. But luckily for me, my car was never broken into.

Maybe because of this experience, I used to enjoy hanging out downtown with my friends. Among them were Black, White, and an Asian guy with many tattoos. They were all quite tall and strong. So when I saw homeless people on the street, I wasn’t very scared anymore. A few times I even took the initiative to say hello and joke with them.

One evening, I parked my car alone downstairs at my friend’s place. Three homeless people walked toward me. To be honest, I was a bit nervous walking alone, but I pretended to be calm. I waved at them and asked, “How’s everything going?”

The one in a wheelchair said, “Good, you have a nice car.”

I replied, “Thank you bro, I can give you a ride.”

He smiled and asked, “Are you coming to see your friend?”

I nodded. He said, “Alright, I’ll watch your car, go have fun.”

I could tell he had probably smoked some weed. He looked a bit high. Although I was still a little scared, I thanked him. As soon as I entered the building, I turned on my car’s sentry mode.

I stayed at my friend’s place for four or five hours, making music and eating. From time to time I checked the car’s camera. When I came out, he was still there by my car. He had really been watching over it.

When he saw me, he said, “See, your car is fine.”

At that moment, my view of homeless people began to change. I was no longer as scared. Of course, I still want to remind you, dear reader, don’t copy me. Be cautious.

A Volunteer Activity That Changed My Perspective

In Saint Louis, another thing deeply touched me. The musician friend I mentioned earlier organized a volunteer activity in the winter of 2024. After finishing a mural project, he used his own money to buy some supplies. He said the winter in Saint Louis was too cold, and some homeless people on the street might not survive it.

I went home, gathered some clothes, and offered to drive. Together we went to see where we could help.

Also joining us were a very young couple: a 19 year old boy and an 18 year old girl. The boy had scouted the area beforehand and found a few places where homeless people gathered. One evening, we drove there, packed the food and clothes, and each carried some to find the homeless scattered along the streets.

I gave some items to an older man living under a bridge. He had a pot and a small tent. He looked about sixty. When he took the items, he thanked me very seriously.

Later we went to a few squares. We were told that in winter, homeless people gather together to keep warmer. We handed out supplies to a few leaders. That night I didn’t interact with them much. The two guys did most of the talking, while the other girl and I mostly waited at a certain distance.

But this experience changed me a lot. After we finished, we rolled down the car windows and played loud music. The 19 year old boy said that he had been homeless for a period of time. I was surprised.

He told me that his mother separated from his father early on. They lived in a very poor neighborhood. Later, his mother’s boyfriend used drugs and treated them badly. That man injected him with drugs when he was 11, getting him addicted. In high school, he was made to sell weed at school in exchange for drugs.

He wandered the streets for a long time and was eventually sent to a rehab center. Then his mother found a relatively wealthy older man. After his period of homelessness ended, he even got to ride on that man’s private plane. When I saw the photo of him sitting inside a private plane, I found it hard to imagine such a dramatic shift in life. But what made me happy was that he was still a kind kid.

Later we saw each other often. Sometimes he would say that his life could no longer be changed. But all of us friends told him, you are still young, you still have a good future ahead.

Eight Dollars in New York and a Blanket in North Carolina

Later I left Saint Louis and moved to North Carolina to attend Wake Forest for my master’s degree.

Last semester, I took a long weekend to go to New York, a place I had wanted to visit since high school.

On Friday night, I went to a club in Koreatown with two friends. I saw some homeless people on the street but didn’t pay much attention. My friends and I don’t drink alcohol, but we like listening to music and dancing at clubs. That night someone was celebrating a birthday and kept throwing money into the crowd. The amount looked considerable.

Two Korean guys next to me kept picking up the money. At first I didn’t want to pick up money from the floor, so I just pointed it out to them. Later one of them happily told me he had picked up 12 dollars and was going to buy some beers.

Suddenly I remembered a homeless woman I had seen on the street earlier. So I started picking up money too, thinking I would give it to her when I left. In the end I picked up 8 dollars.

But when I went out and walked back along the same street, I never saw her again. So I brought the 8 dollars back to Winston Salem.

Those 8 dollars sat in my car for nearly a week. Then one night after studying, I went to a fast food restaurant near my school to buy dinner.

I parked my car, and someone was holding the door open for me. It was extremely cold outside. Without gloves, pulling the door handle hurt your hands. He wasn’t wearing much. I thought he was waiting for family or friends. When I came out after buying my food, he held the door open for me again. I stopped and asked if he was waiting for someone. He said no, he was homeless and waiting for someone to give him some money.

I asked him how his day was. He said it was a bit cold. I asked if he had eaten. He said not yet. I gave him my burger and cola, then asked him to wait a moment. I went to the car and got the 8 dollars along with some change and gave it all to him.

Then I asked where he lived. He said nearby. I asked if there were many homeless people in the area. He said a few. I remembered that I had a blanket that no one was using. So I told him I would come back on Saturday and asked him to wait for me here. I would bring him a blanket.

On that Friday, I got a friend from Wake coming with me. But we was late. About half an hour late. He was not there. I felt quite frustrated at that moment. My friend was walking around and tried to find him, but he was gone. He said we might drive around to see if anyone needs the blanket.

Later we did meet a homeless woman on the street and gave the blanket to her instead. My friend held her hand and prayed for her, hoping she would make it safely through the winter.

I saw tears in her eyes. At that moment I realized that some things are more important than food.

A Weekly Routine: Volunteering at the Shelter

But after this, I went back to my busy school life and soon put it out of my mind.

Until winter break ended. My friend started volunteering at a shelter and invited me to join him.

So going to the homeless shelter every Friday became a fixed routine. It has been three months now.

At first I thought I was helping them. But later I realized that they have been helping me all along, making my life more complete.

In short, I now believe that our volunteer work at the shelter is very meaningful.

In my next post, I will answer common questions about the shelter: how I started, who goes with me, what the shelter is like, why people become homeless in the US, and what we actually do as volunteers. Stay tuned.