Wed | May 10, 2006
Bums
Yesterday as I was eating lunch in Bryant Park, I heard a man asking, "spare some change, change for lunch." I was eating a carnitas burrito from Chipotle, and there is no way to eat one of those without feeling that you are gorging yourself, due to the way you have to take big bites and due to the fact that they're drippingly delicious.
So I felt guilty, and also it didn't seem like anyone was giving him anything. When he got to me I gave him some change from my wallet. However I regretted it because as I turned and put the change in the paper cup I saw that he was a white guy wearing a red windbreaker, a nice one, like North Face, but not. There are a lot of bums in New York but I've never seen one in something like that. The jacket was kind of dirty but it wasn't that shabby. He looked in the cup to see how much I had given him. Real bums, or good bums, don't look; they just say thanks. He didn't say thanks. Most of all he just seemed like -- and I know this would sound racist to some but those people don't know the first thing about racism-- he seemed like a white asshole. It was in his look, in the type of connection that happens in the air between you and him when you make eye contact. It's something you know from the experience of meeting people like that and subsequently getting to know them and hearing what they say.
I have been meaning to come up with a set of "rules" for whether I will give a bum money. In New York this is necessary because you are asked all the time, and you can't give to everyone or you'll be broke. New York will make you broke anyway but you'll be even broker, faster.
For awhile my rule was that I gave singing bums money, but I didn't think that through-- I made it up based on nothing. It was an easy way to decide based on whether I liked the music. But people who have instruments are better off to begin with-- there's a bit of classism there. I realized this when I gave a dollar to a violin player who was so good that I realized later that he must have had training. I played violin for two years and was in contact with it for years through my sister's playing, such that I can recognize a well-trained player.
The rule must be based on a principle-- and the principle must be appropriate. Having developed skill in music isn't it. It's okay to give to a bum who happens to be skilled in music- there is no reason to decide not to on that basis either. It shouldn't be the reason to or not to.
In the case of the red windbreaker guy, I gave change because no one else was and I felt some inclination to "equalize" this. I often feel an inclination to "equalize" or "balance" things, making sure everyone gets a fair share. This isn't a good basis for most decisions, this one included. Actually the fact that no one else was giving to him should have been a red flag, but my "equalizing" instinct got in the way. As a result I helped a type of person who has been responsible for a lot of my misery, and more importantly, the misery of innumerable others.
At least it made me realize what the basis for decisions should be. In considering bums, I had been thinking there are music ones-- ones who play instruments or sing, ones that talk or give a speech, ones that smell. I had thought to consider how shabby they are-- how much they seem to need it. Or to consider how hard they are trying-- to give an "A" for effort. Perhaps to give to a little of each type on an equalizing principle. I was categorizing them by what they do, or as black or white, women or men, bitter ones and ones with good attitudes. When it comes to bums there are only two types: ones who are oppressors and ones who represent the oppressed. Ones who are victims and ones who would be oppressors if they had the chance.
It's anyone's best guess whether a bum is one or the other. That night, after work, I got on the subway to go to a philosophy lecture. A black woman dressed in all black walked into the car. "May I have your attention please," she said, or some other starter. She said three or four things, of which I only remember one in the middle: "I have two daughters." I was half listening and half sizing her up. I decided she would rectify my earlier misjudgment. I gave her the rest of the change in my wallet, which was regrettably less than I had given the man. However the black man across from me took out his wallet and gave her a dollar. So I figure I was partly responsible for more.
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