Bear Witness to Suffering: A Walk Through Skid Row
Trigger Warning: Strong language, disturbing imagery, and explicit sexual content.
“Help me! Please miss! I’m horny!” I heard him scream from across the park in broad daylight, dick in hand. I was one of many sitting in the center of Pershing Square that day, but appeared to be the only one who saw or heard him. As soon as I’d sat down and met his gaze, he unzipped his pants just as quickly and started stroking himself before he yelled out for all to hear. Shocked, I sat there for another minute before I slowly rose and walked away.
This experience was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events in Downtown LA’s public parks. Men would shout expletives across various parks in Downtown LA (DTLA) as they looked at me, or would walk past me talking to themselves, cursing into the wind. No matter which park I found myself at, no matter which day of the week, morning or evening, there’d always be an Angeleno there to greet me with “Fuck! Shit!” whether mumbled repeatedly as they passed by me or shouted in my direction. After a few experiences of this, with one man quickly doubling back for cursing in the presence of a goddess and requesting forgiveness, I realized: most just didn’t know how to speak to me, but wanted to. The serenity I was accustomed to finding in nature was disrupted by their inner demons. Some suffered from lack of human connection and couldn’t model healthy conversation, and the man in Pershing Square seemed sex-crazed and touch deprived.
Upon telling two long-time LA transplants about the unwanted sexual display, they asked “What were you doing sitting in Pershing Square, anyway?”
What was I doing? God had led me to the city for a decidedly short, six-month stay that I liken to doing a bid. Divinely, I met a reiki master that had been practicing since the 90’s right there in LA, and I became a certified reiki practitioner. When asked why I was leaving so soon by colleagues, I shared that I didn’t want to be desensitized to depravity.
None of what I’d experienced in DTLA’s public parks prepared me for the suffering I’d witness in Skid Row. In the name of keeping my eyes wide open and my energy in-tune to the needs of others, I couldn’t leave that stone unturned before my departure. Armed with nothing but a friendly dog, I set out for our evening walk and made a beeline toward Los Angeles’ most infamous humanitarian crisis.
I lived in the Financial District, near Wilshire Boulevard’s business core. We passed through the Jewelry District and then Fashion District, where the vendors of Santee Alley (or Los Callejones) had already shuttered their businesses well before sunset, removing carts, mannequins, and signage from the sidewalks before boarding up their storefronts for the night. Just a block or two beyond Santee Alley, the buses thin out, their routes dwindling as the city gives way to the open-air encampments of Skid Row.
The streets went from ghostly levels of empty, to filled. Rows of people sat on the sidewalk side-by-side for blocks. Weathered tents were visible everywhere I looked. Some residents of Skid Row were doing the dope fiend lean so hard, their bodies looked like upside down U’s and I was concerned their head would hit the concrete. I walked past what was certainly a human body in the middle of the sidewalk, covered up so heavily with coats and blankets that I wondered if they were deceased. There was a blend between residents who seemingly had nothing, and others who kept backpacks or suitcases close to their chests. There was no eating, drinking, or being merry here, just a somber and desolate reality.
I know what it’s like to go without water. As a teenager, the water in my childhood home was disconnected for roughly six months. I’d buy gallons of water at the grocery store, and ration out the water in a teacup to bathe just enough to not offend my high school classmates with the smell of me. Once the jug was empty, I’d refill it at my kind neighbor’s water hose, or I’d carry it in an empty backpack to fill it up in the bathroom sink at school. Despite my best attempts at bird baths, I’d see visible dirt from my wrists to upper arms that I hoped looked like an uneven Miami tan to others. As an adult, I once hustled so hard as an entrepreneur while maintaining a 9-to-5 that my workdays, from 5 AM to 10 PM, included walking dogs for a total of over 5 miles. In the midst of that grind, I embarrassingly forgot to drink enough water. I felt the deathly pains of dehydration that sat me down for days, as I could barely lift my head to hydrate with water and electrolyte-filled drinks.
I know what it’s like to go without enough food. I thank God for the Black Panther Party’s creation of the Free Breakfast Program in Oakland, CA in 1969, which drew national attention to the need for children's nutrition and influenced federal policies on school meal programs. I had access to both free breakfast and free lunch in high school, which I ate between roughly 8 AM and noon. That left me with nearly a full day without food, with about 8 hours of sleep offering a welcome reprieve from my reality and growling stomach. I’d find myself dizzily walking downstairs to my school’s cafeteria, worried I’d fall, only to later stretch out across the cold tile floors of my home as I threw up nothing but stomach acid.
I’ve been under the influence, and thus struggle to fully grasp the extent of the impact on Skid Row residents, who lack access to water, consistent food sources, and may also face substance or alcohol abuse. I walked through about six blocks of Skid Row, roughly one mile, before turning around and walking back the way I came. Seeing their crisis for the second time didn’t lessen the shock I felt. My one regret was not at least bringing water bottles with me to pass out to as many people as I could. When others are in need, it is our responsibility to not turn a blind eye to their lack or their suffering. Witnessing homelessness in any city always tugs at my soul, and I understand that reaching rock bottom, however that may look for an individual, could happen to any of us. I encourage those who are reading this and are moved by their plight to donate to the organizations listed at the end of this blog. As for me, I’ll be returning to Los Angeles for a more hands-on approach for those in need. I believe we’re called to bear witness to suffering and open our hearts and hands in response.
Organizations Providing Aid:
The Midnight Mission: Established in 1914, The Midnight Mission offers a path to self-sufficiency for men, women, and children experiencing homelessness. Their services include emergency food and shelter, rehabilitation programs, and educational opportunities.
Union Rescue Mission: As the oldest and largest private homeless shelter in the U.S., Union Rescue Mission provides comprehensive services such as food, shelter, education, counseling, and long-term recovery programs to help individuals and families escape homelessness.
Los Angeles Mission: Serving the Skid Row community, Los Angeles Mission offers daily meals, showers, and hygiene products. They also provide emergency shelter, rehabilitation programs, and job training to support individuals in their journey toward self-sufficiency.
The Good Karma: Dedicated to serving the Skid Row community, The Good Karma has provided over 130,000 hot meals and water bottles. They distribute essential items such as socks, tents, blankets, and reading materials to those in need.
Los Angeles Community Action Network (LACAN): A grassroots organization based in Skid Row, LACAN focuses on organizing low-income and homeless residents through advocacy, education, and litigation. They address issues like housing rights and civil rights for the unhoused population.
St. Vincent de Paul of Los Angeles: This organization provides food, clothing, furniture, appliances, transportation, rental assistance, and other financial support through local volunteer groups, aiming to assist those facing difficult times.
The People Concern: Formed by the merger of Lamp Community and OPCC, The People Concern seeks to permanently end homelessness, improve health, and build self-sufficiency among individuals living with severe mental illness.
