Homelessness doesn't have a face,
it has thousands of them
Kevin became homeless in 1998, after his small auto business failed and he's lived on the street, literally, since then.
Over the last seven years, Kevin has become one of the most recognized homeless people on Toronto's downtown streets. Kevin is a spreader of the faith that each person is a treasure, worthy of respect, love and housing. He preaches on abuse of authority, the role individuals can play in curbing the path of social decay through acceptance and the importance of homes rather than services that encourage dependency. That's a mouthful, and it's how he talks.
Today, Kevin is wearing his robes: a long, flowing white tunic, a shawl and a headdress with a yellow headband. When I ask him why, he flashes a huge grin and explains: first, because they are warm (it's still chilly out when we speak) and second, because when he encounters kids, it puts a smile on their face.
I still don't understand how people like Kevin survive sleeping outside for years and remain whole. I ask him to tell me in practical terms how he stayed warm and didn't get hurt or die. Although he makes references to the aches and pains he feels "day by day in his bones," likely an outcome of the years of cold and damp, Kevin says that his survival, both physical and emotional, depended on people who interacted with him as a person, offering him food, conversation, supplies and respect.
Kevin came to Canada from St. Anne's, Jamaica 30 years ago to join his mother, Millicent, whom he has recently visited in hospital. When I speak to Millicent, she takes great pains to explain to me that she simply can't understand why her son was homeless for so many years. She describes searching for him when he fell off her radar for a while, and being surprised that so many people knew and cared about her son. She is clearly relieved that he now has four walls around him.
Not unlike other homeless people, Kevin has a number of talents and interests.
With the robes, the acronyms and, of course, the homelessness, the issue of mental health naturally comes up. He's not been diagnosed, as far as I know, and honestly, I would not say that he either is or was mentally ill. He just has a big personality, is bright and creative and doesn't fit squarely under any heading, including mentally ill or average.
Kevin is supremely interested in politics, however. So what does he think of how Toronto is handling the homeless situation? He thinks he may be the most arrested person in the city for being a homeless man. He knows the city workers by name and department who, over the years, have "visited" him "more than many times" to move him along. "What is our responsibility as individuals, as a city?" he asks. "We have a responsibility to provide for people's basic needs." He believes the city must put a hold on this abandonment and the police's forced movement of the homeless.
Kevin cautions that, since homelessness has become such a prominent issue, we haven't heard much about unemployment, about the welfare system. His goal is to curb the path of homelessness, dealing with the obstacles that lead people into homelessness. He uses every opportunity he can to make passionate political speeches (he's run in several elections at all three levels of government).
In a quieter moment, I ask Kevin what he hopes for. He replies more seriously, "I'm a realist but I'm also a dreamer. I would like to see a smile on all the people that I pass by. I would like to see children playing in the parks; I'd like to see more stories in the media about people helping seniors cross the street, young children excelling in their school work and playing sports. I'd like to see homelessness become extinct. I believe homelessness in the city is an issue that has been passed down on the municipality by the federal government."
Kevin proclaims that his overall goal in life is to spread love. And always practical, he points to the empty tin can on the ground beside his feet where he is accepting donations so he can buy this week's IGA chicken special. I drop some money in. Living on welfare and paying rent in the private market doesn't leave a lot left for food.
