Community Leader Exposes Herself: An Unsheltered Secret

Walk Week 41: Sapphire Jule King is homeless and unemployed in America.

Last night from the comfort of my hotel room in Warwick, RI, I spent hours on the phone calling churches and shelters. My friend Monica was making calls as well. I had to make a plan for tomorrow. One center suggested I call 211, the United Way hotline. The United Way representative gave me a name of a shelter which sounded familiar. Ah, it was one of the places with an employment opportunity for which I wanted to apply. I jotted down their phone number and address and planned to apply in-person today. “Surely they would snag someone with your background and experience rather quickly,” said the United Way representative.

Bolstered by the unexpected gift I received this morning, I arrived at the shelter dressed in my modern fit black slacks, designer black suit jacket bought in a Barcelona boutique, pink silk cami, and low-heeled patent leather pumps shined to a high gloss with a matching designer business tote. I weaved my way through the small gathering of turning heads and staring eyes at the corner building’s entrance. Removing my oh so chic Anne Klein New York sunglasses while walking through the glass doors, I confidently stepped to the first counter and expressed my desire to apply for two of the available Outreach positions. 

My inquiry was met with the customary courtesies reserved for professionals dressed to the nines, coming to help the less fortunate. Those less fortunate ones responded in kind as I joined three people on the six-seater, wooden bench in the small yet crowded lobby. I began completing my application. Pausing now again to collect my thoughts before completing each section of the paper application, I observed the reality show unfolding right before my eyes. Guilt lumped in my throat, burned my cheeks, and stung my eyes as I watched those less fortunate ones look at me with an understated reverence. Guilt, because I had a secret that was sure to shock that “she’s above us” look right out of their starry eyes.

After returning to the counter to submit my application, I took three steps to the right, stood behind a middle-aged lady with clothes and other essentials stuffed into three plastic bags, and waited for my turn to approach the counter marked “Social Services.” Those starry-eyed glances blinked concern, puzzlement, and confusion. Finally, I was next.

“How may I help you?” the young lady seated behind the counter asked in a pleasant voice and open facial expression.
“I’d like to apply for shelter and services,” I replied in an even tone.
“Are you here for a job interview?” she said, ignoring my statement.
“No. I did just complete a job application. Now, I am applying for shelter and services.” 

At this point, another staff member joined the lady seated behind the counter. Surely, she could sort this out.

“Who are you here to interview with?” she asked.
“No one. I’m here to apply for shelter or whatever the proper procedure is,” I responded, still in my even tone.

Now, two sets of brows furrowed behind the counter and scanned my appearance, obviously misunderstanding my words. A third slid over to help get to the bottom of the situation.

“I’m confused,” said the seated staff member.
“Exactly who are you here to see,” they all chimed in unison.
“I’m here to see whoever can provide me with shelter.”

I could see the reluctance as understanding dawned on all three of their faces.

Still putting up a fight, the seated staff member stammered, “Oh, you’re…” Lowering her voice two octaves and obviously out of embarrassment for me, she finally bit off the final word, “… homeless?”

A defining moment. For us all. For me. For the staff. For the less fortunate ones. For all who had revered me when I walked through those glass doors–and may have even thought I felt better than they were–my secret had shocked them all into an eternal 10-second moment of silence. I broke that silence and confirmed my secret with a confidently delivered, 

“Yes. I am homeless.”