Homelessness by: Amineh Al-Aydi

         One of the assignments that we received this month was "Homeless" by Anna Quindlen. We were to read the passage, analyze it, and answer questions about it. When we first received this passage, I thought it would just discuss Ann, the main character's, story. Quindlen offered a little more than that, she offered us perspective.
         In the essay, Quindlen shared to us the idea that "They are not the homeless. They are people who have no homes." People. We tend to categorize people without homes, in one group, almost like a subcategory in our society. The thing is though, they are human beings just like us. By referring to them as the "homeless," we almost push them away, viewing them as too different from us to deserve any more attention than our sympathy. But, the fact is, anyone can be "homeless."
         When people think of those without a home, they think of those suffering from substance abuse. Those who spend their money in the wrong places. But, half of the 3.5 million Americans without a home are actually families with kids. Mostly, these are families who have dealt with traumatic experiences and that are pushed into this tragic situation. Those who may be hit with struggle after struggle, a never-ending hole they can't seem to climb back out of. Experiences like the loss of loved ones or a job, family and domestic hardships, mental illness, physical disabilities, natural disasters they can't recover from, and so much more. Nobody chooses for these things to happen, they can just occur on their own, they could happen to anyone, ourselves included, and homelessness, in the long run, maybe just another one of the major effects that come with it.
      Another thing Anne talked about was the definition of a home. In class, we went around stating little things that we adore about our houses that make them a home. Before I moved to Sparta, I lived in a house in a town in South Jersey, about 15 minutes from Philly, called Voorhees. It wasn't the house I was born in, (fun fact: I was born in Orlando, FL) but it was the house I grew up in until I was about nine years old. I loved everything about that house. From the grapevines imprinted on the stone in my kitchen to the huge window in my bedroom. But, most of all, I loved the basement. It was basically a gigantic playroom. No adults allowed. For all five of us kids plus all our cousins, it was like our own little world. Too many great memories of mine happened there, some I'm not too sure I want to remember. LOL.
     Anyways, that's one thing that meant a lot to me. Except it was more the memory of the times we spent in there, then the actual basement itself. Anna explained that "you are where you live." Having a house doesn't make you any more of a human being than someone without one. You define what a home is, even if you don't have a physical house. So when Ann showed Anna the picture of her home, the memory she kept with her, she showed that sure, she had a home at one point, but the memory of it, even though having a physical home would be ideal, was all that really mattered. She wasn' t any less human because of it. Home IS where the heart is. And as such privileged people in society, we really need to view people like Ann and more of those like her as people, just like us.