Too many people are hungry. Too many people are struggling. Too many people need help. We seem to know this as a society, but I know that the majority don’t understand it. Everyone has had an experience with homelessness, whether that be seeing someone sleeping on the sidewalk, or someone on the side of a road with a sign, or personally interacting one-on-one. 

My mother immigrated to the US from the Philippines and has struggled for a very long time. She tells me about how most days she was hungry, regularly asking friends for food, or just drinking water to fill her stomach. From this, I know the struggle. I’ve heard about the struggle my whole life. But even having someone so close to me that went to sleep hungry, woke up hungry, went to school hungry, and had to fight to get where she is, I still didn’t understand it. 

My father’s side of the family has struggled in other ways; substance abuse was common. It is known that hard drugs can take anyone down a path where they can’t come back. That happened to my Uncle Justin. Even with my dad telling me how he could not let his baby brother stay in the house with my dad’s family, so instead gave him a tent to have something besides concrete and the elements as a home, I still didn’t understand it. 

I wasn’t heartless. I obviously felt bad, because we all “feel bad” when we see a kid asking for food outside of a restaurant, or someone who is laying down in the middle of the winter with whatever layers they could find. We feel bad, and that’s it. No one wants to understand it, which is for many reasons. It could be because it’s an ugly aspect of our world, and we get too comfortable in our little bubble of Stanley water bottles and iPhone 15 Pros. It could be because we don’t want to know, because once we open that door, it’s a permanent decision. You will forever know what is out there, and it’s sad, and scary, and scary how sad it is. A sense of self-preservation. But I was done with just hearing stories, or being told to avoid making eye contact, or pretending to understand. I needed to finally get it. 

Arizona State University holds so many opportunities for whatever the students want to do, so I was quick to look for volunteer opportunities. I signed up for an event with Volunteer in Community Outreach, or VICO. For this event, we were going to be giving out care packages that had flashlights, blankets, water bottles, and more. There was also food, cold drinks, and ice cream, and everything was for anyone who needed/wanted it. This was the perfect opportunity for me to get the real, raw, and up-close understanding. 

On a Saturday afternoon, early November, I make my way to the Changemaker Space, which is located at Memorial Union; a comfortable walk from Tooker House. As soon as I get there, we have only enough time for introductions before we have to leave. There were only 3 other students. 

The first job for us was to bring a cart full of care packages a mile off of campus— on foot. An average day in November for most states is chilly, maybe even showing signs of incoming snow, a fact I have become used to when I was living in New York. Nothing could have prepared me for this mile, pushing at least 40 pounds worth of stuff with 3 other people, one on crutches, one mostly navigating, and the other, who was half my size. This wasn’t a lovely stroll, this was a strength-testing trek. 

With the sun burning through my t-shirt, and warm sweat swimming down my forehead, we make it to the event after 30 minutes. At first, it looks like a big picnic at a public park, but it doesn’t take long to spot the dirty clothes and old wagons full of necessities and possessions. We immediately started to set the care packages out, laying them on the ground for anyone who needed one. Every person that came through to get one looked like they all have a shared experience with life; one that I didn’t know. Not a single person had a light in their eyes, which is sad, but understandable; it’s hard to keep a light when life has become about surviving. The smells were strong, and even though there was warm pizza filling the air, it was mixed with body odor that formed from many days in the Arizona sun without a shower. 

To be honest, I was scared. There were at least four people who were high, yelling and stumbling around. It made me think of my uncle. Was this the way he was living? Was he high, unable to walk or form coherent sentences? Would I see him here? I don’t know what I would do if I saw him, with him reaching out for help and his college-aged niece is the hand he meets. With the fear grew sadness. I get a unique point of view in this kind of situation, having my heart in it to beat the fear; a view that most people I surround myself with don’t have. I am sad that people will fear the homeless that can’t escape the addiction. That people ridicule and place expectations on them, instead of recognizing them as human. 

There are multiple children; kids that are no older than 9-years-old. Kids that can’t open a bottle of water by themselves. My heart broke. I felt the shattered pieces fall down my body, creating cuts internally. The pain I felt for them was a physical type of pain, one where you feel like you got stabbed so many times that you lost count, and that’s left is pain. With these kids, all I saw was my mom. Was she hungry like them? Would she be here if it was offered to her back then? I am scared to even think about possible answers to those questions, for even writing it has made me nauseous.

I understand now. I understand and it hurts. There are people, who are dirty and hungry and are fighting to survive; treated like stray dogs by society. We allow for people to be left out to die, to figure it out with little to no aid, and expect them to get back to being “functioning members of society”. Even with all of the stories and experiences surrounding my life, I needed this to really know. And now I volunteer at least once every couple of weeks, whether that be with VICO or pantries off campus. I don’t do it to put on a resume or to brag about. I do it because my heart still aches for my mom. I do it because my heart still aches for my uncle. I do it because I could not call myself human and not do anything to help. And that’s what society needs to realize. There is more beyond our own needs and comforts, and that everyone deserves to have guaranteed meals and shelter. We need to face it, jump in head and heart first, because it won’t change unless we come together and fix it. And it needs to change.