When I was younger, I was certain that I was going to be a journalist. I'm not sure if it was my desire to stir the pot, or my desire to tell the untold stories- I wanted to expose it all. While their is virtue in digging to find the story, to share someone's experience, it was never enough. I didn't want to stop there. Deep down, I realized that what I wanted was to help people- to reach out my hand for theirs and walk alongside them. I wanted to be a friend, a mentor, a sounding board. Working on the 2008 campaign where we targeted vulnerable populations not only for voter registration, but for employment, I again found joy in learning the value of an individual's story. Working with at-risk youth at an after-school program, I learned the value of a family's story- of the relationships among brothers and sisters, aunts and nieces and nephews, foster parents and family friends.

Serving with AmeriCorps, I have learned the value of a community's story- one made up of vignettes about a single person struggling to find employment, about a family with children who lost their housing voucher, about a married couple cycling through episodes of homelessness. The story that the community often tells, however, is not complete. It is billed as folklore about "the homeless."

Since I began as an AmeriCorps member, one things has always hit my ear with a certain amount of dissonance. The vibration never sounded right- it always had a ring of judgment to it. "The Homeless." I've spent a good part of my personal life re-evaluated the use of labels- positive, negative and neutral- as a destructive practice. When I say a person is homeless... I'm defining them by their housing status. They are no longer a person who is experiencing homelessness... they ARE homeless. I find this odd. I don't define myself by my housing status. People don't pass me on the street and whisper to their friends, "hey, look at that person over there- she must be housed. Let's not feel obligated to give her anything, or feel the need to cross the street to avoid her." I am not defined by my housing status- so why are others?

To me, the people that we all serve are in need of housing. They are not defined by homelessness- they are simply experiencing it. I am not saying this to diminish the severity of the experience, or the need. I'm saying this to diminish the harshness of judgment placed upon someone in that situation. Everyone who walks through my office is a person first- and that's how I feel each and every one should be treated and referenced.