Good morning, and welcome to the
Essential California newsletter. It’s
Wednesday, June 19, and I’m writing from Los Angeles.
The late Fred Rogers famously told his television neighbors that when he would see terrible things happening as a boy, his mother would say to him, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
Here in Los Angeles, it is difficult for anyone with half a heart to step outside without being troubled to the bone by the sheer number of people eking out a life in our streets.
You can and should be outraged, and morally pained by the scale of human suffering in our 21st century American city. But some people are also called to action. And, if you look closely, you’ll find the helpers.
“I feel wonderful. God, I can’t tell you,” Susan Samuelson said, sitting outside a Silver Lake church in a fresh set of clothes, with a plate of Mediterranean food from a restaurant balanced on the chair next to her. The 60-year-old has been living on the streets for about a decade. She had just taken her first real shower in “years” in a mobile shower set up in the church parking lot.
Samuelson was one of more than 35 Angelenos who received a clean shower, a hot meal and access to a service provider at last weekend’s Saturday Supper, a regular event organized by the
SELAH Neighborhood Homeless Coalition.
SELAH — which stands for Silver Lake, Echo Park, Los Feliz, Atwater Village and Hollywood — is a volunteer-led group that focuses on direct action and engagement.
Their work is rooted in a principle that should be obvious, but has instead come to seem almost radical in an increasingly stratified Los Angeles: SELAH members refuse to see the homeless people in their neighborhoods as anything less than full community members, worthy of the same respect and representation afforded to anyone with a roof over their head.
It is difficult to overstate the gargantuan importance of access to showers, both in terms of an individual’s well-being and their ability to function in the broader world with any semblance of dignity. But, in a geographically dispersed county with
nearly 59,000 homeless people, access to showers for the unhoused remains abysmally limited.
“When I was homeless in the San Fernando Valley, I began working at a fast-food restaurant. But of course you have to come to work with good hygiene,” Jonathan Oskins recalled. Oskins now works with the Los Angeles Homeless Services Authority, but he spent time living on the streets two decades prior.
He was lucky, in the sense that the bathrooms at that particular Taco Bell happened to be outside the restaurant and around the back, making it a little easier for him to stealthily take a daily “bird bath” in the bathroom sink.
Oskins was eventually able to save up enough money to secure housing and get back on his feet. “But if I had had [access to] a mobile shower, I could have more easily interviewed and more easily sustained my employment without risking losing it,” he said.
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