Passerby effect: Should you leave homeless people alone even when you're not sure they're in danger?
Illinois votes on "Bring Chicago home" referendum to fund homeless program while this Chicagoan wanted to help one homeless man
Two weeks had gone by, and the Chicago Board of Elections still had my ballot status as “Waiting to be processed by USPS.” I’d avoided the mailbox on the corner of my block for four months, especially after someone had already stolen a check from that same mailbox and rewrote my check (with my design and a terrible signature) out to herself for four times the amount. But who would steal a primary voting ballot? What if I voted for your candidate, and you’re now blocking a potential entry?
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It turns out the mail thief may be at it again. Even after four months, my mail was disappearing once again. And I was damn sure going to participate in the primary election. On my way to an early voting location, I watched the neighborhood change.
Chicago is a funny place. (Evanston is too.) You will walk past one block that has security guards, upscale condominiums overlooking the city (or the lakefront and the beach), and families leisurely shopping for groceries and walking their dogs. And then the next block will be a few homeless (“unhoused”) people hovering by a train station. You can see the dynamics change on el (non-locals call them “subway”) trains too, as the Red Line goes from the North Side to the South Side. Chicago is both noticeably multicultural and blatantly segregated.
But I’m born and raised here so it’s (sadly) the “norm” to me. When I passed by a fancy condominium building (and I know it well because I’ve walked two dogs from owners who live inside) to head to an early voting location, I saw him.
Clearly homeless, the man had his (clothed) butt in the air, with his head in his hands, kneeling on the ground, a scar on the top of his head and was not moving. There was a puddle underneath him like he’d peed there, but the ground could’ve already been wet before he got into this position.
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I thought he was praying at first (performing Sajdah) so I walked around him. I saw the group huddled nearby, but I didn’t think much of it. Kneeling like that in 30-degree weather is dedication, but I’ve known enough religious people from all walks of life to not think it couldn’t happen. It wasn’t until I returned to this route after voting that my instincts kicked in. Something is not right about this. It’s rude to interrupt someone praying, but I just had a funny feeling that wouldn’t let me shake it.