Riley Brown

Honors 231
Final Paper
3/14/18

As I attempt to put all the things I’ve learned over the course of this quarter into words, I

find myself stumped. While I was excited to take this class in the beginning of the quarter, I did

not know what to expect. I knew it would be unlike any class I had taken before; however, I had

no idea that my fundamental view and perception of not just homelessness and poverty, but the

entire American structure of privilege and society, would be flipped on its head. My learning

over the course of this quarter has been unlike any other class I’ve taken: rather than working to

memorize information to spit it back out and completely forget it a few weeks later, I have

gained understanding. This understanding is of larger, complex issues that will stay with me for

the rest of my life; this understanding has impacted how I recognize my role as an active citizen

and member of society. So, to say I’m grateful for this experience is an understatement.

This quarter I was fortunate enough to work with the Relational Poverty Network. The

RPN is a community of leading scholars, teachers, activists, and more that creates international

connections for people to come together, discuss, and develop research and work done pertaining

to relational poverty. In all honesty, I did not truly understand what “relational poverty” even

meant as I signed up for the project, but now I understand its critical importance. Relational

poverty shifts the narrative from thinking about poverty affecting “others” to thinking about

poverty in a way that includes us all (Relational Poverty Network). Relational poverty seeks to

build relationships and connections between people as means of creating change, and the work

and goals of the RPN follow in a similar fashion.

At first, as the different projects of disruption were being described to our class, I

wondered how the RPN fit in with the others. With some of the other projects, people were

planning events, conducting interviews with people experiencing homelessness, visiting

contested camp sites, and more. I didn’t understand how my role of transcribing interviews for

the RPN would create the same sense of “disruption” as some of the other projects. However, as

I came to be more familiar with what relational poverty means, I was able to understand how

impactful the work I was doing on behalf of the RPN was. It’s as simple as this: knowledge is

power. Bringing people together is power. Creating interdisciplinary connections is power.

The RPN is first and foremost a project of disruption because it is creating a space and

outlet to have conversations that change the narrative about poverty. It is also putting people in

contact with one another so that these connections can spark even further change. Generating

conversations that challenge the dominant narrative is a crucial start to creating any lasting

change. However, by compiling different perspectives and ideas from scholars and activists from

around the world, the RPN is offering the opportunity for everyone’s knowledge and

understanding of relational poverty to grow. Thus, the more the network expands, so do the ideas

and conversations fostered within it. The more the network grows, the more people are reached,

and the more minds are challenged.

My specific role was to transcribe two interviews that had already been conducted, and

then to do my own interview to add to the network. As I met with my project leader, Austin

Crane, he advised me to “really listen” to the interviews as I transcribed them. He wanted me to

listen carefully not just for the sake of making sure the transcriptions were accurate, but because

the content of the interviews themselves were extremely powerful. I had the opportunity to listen

to conversations between Sanford Schram and Anne Bonds and between Ananya Roy and

Nicholas De Genova. We read research and papers from most of these scholars throughout the

quarter, so I found it to be an incredible experience to hear their raw thoughts about topics

relating to relational poverty rather than simply reading it in an academic, professional context.
Then, after those transcriptions, I got to coordinate and conduct my own interview. I chose to

interview Raley Rewa, who is a direct service provider involved with several organizations

within the University District of Seattle. While the other interviews I listened to from scholars

and researchers were incredibly insightful, I wanted to hear a new perspective on the same

matters from someone that is further removed from academia.

It wasn’t until after my interview with Raley that I truly understood the power of the

network the RPN created and how it functions as a project of disruption. As I read through all of

the interviews that I transcribed, I started noticing common trends or sentiments that appeared in

at least two, if not all of the interviews. The interviews occurred at different times, included

interviewers and interviewees of very different areas of study, covered content that varied from

the Seattle housing market to Syrian refugees, yet similar sentiments and ideas prevailed. So, I

came to understand how this network allows people of all different backgrounds to unite under a

common thread. It is through these similar goals and values that we can start reshaping the

narrative about poverty and tackling a problem that is greater than any one of us individually.

One way in which my project complimented my learning in class was through allowing

me to rethink the “single story”. My project in its simplest essence was listening to and

connecting single stories from people across the world. I learned the danger of following a single

story in the context of homeless lives. I had never realized that certain perceptions, or stories, of

people experiencing homelessness were engrained in me until we started to unpack them over the

course of this quarter. Single stories like addiction, mental illness, and laziness had pervaded my

subconscious. In my naivety and privilege, I had seen people asking for money on the side of the

street and thought, “Why don’t they just get a job?”. I have listened to close family members tell
me to never give money to the homeless because “They’ll just spend it on drugs”. I have actively

avoided a person talking on the street because they seemed “crazy”.

Adhering to a single story is dangerous in multiple ways. First and foremost, it strips

people of their dignity as an individual to assume that they all followed the same “path” to be

where they are. As it was said in one of our class discussions, “Assumptions are some of the

most dangerous things we can have”. When we think we know someone’s story, in my

experience, it also means that we think we know what another person needs. While trying to help

others isn’t necessarily bad, overstepping boundaries and assuming that we “know best” without

actually taking the other person’s needs into consideration belittles a person’s agency and

autonomy. Thus, there is a devaluation of homeless lives because the dominant narrative claims

that their situation is solely “their fault” and they are the ones who need to be “fixed”.

Furthermore, an idea brought up by Nicholas De Genova in his interview for the RPN is a

disposability of lives. While he was speaking in context of immigrants, I think it similarly

applies to homeless lives. By creating a single story and categorizing an entire group of people as

one, a person’s individual worth is lost (Roy & De Genova). The value of someone’s life is

diminished when one person is undifferentiated from the next, and thus an idea of “disposability”

starts to surround the narrative. Disposability implies that a person can be easily replaced or that

their contributions are not as significant as those of others. Thus, this sense of disposability has

pervaded the narrative of homeless lives, and makes it seem as though people experiencing

homelessness have nothing to offer.

By devaluing homeless lives through a single story, we have lost a certain sense of

empathy and urgency towards helping the most vulnerable members of our society. As described

by public health nurse Heather Barr, the way that the general public views unsheltered lives has
changed over time, “There was this concern about people laying down outside, and that we

would have a response to that…Now it’s just like so many people sleeping on the ground all day

long and nobody’s upset about it in any particular way. They may be upset, like it’s unsightly,

but not upset that ‘wow, this shouldn’t be happening.’” (Demirel 2016). This shift in thinking

portrays the danger in accepting a single story; it allows us to normalize and become oblivious to

a problem. Breaking the narrative of a single story is vital to giving people their dignity back and

inciting actual change among those who had become numb towards the complicated issue of

homelessness.

The way that I was able to rethink the single story of homeless lives was through

exploring and relearning the true root causes of homelessness. It is not things like addiction,

laziness, or mental illness that cause someone to become homeless. It is things like

institutionalized racism, sexism, classism, homophobia and transphobia that makes someone

more susceptible to experiencing homelessness. Common associations with homeless lives, like

addiction and mental health, can be responses to experiencing homelessness, but they get often

get misconstrued as causes (Pearson 2018). Experiencing homelessness is a trauma. Whether a

person chose to leave home, was kicked out, evicted, or more, there is a certain amount of

intense mental stress and pressure involved with the whole experience. The use of substances

may be a way to deal with the trauma (Pearson 2018). Furthermore, issues in mental health could

be caused by a process called “decompensation”, in which someone’s mental health declines as a

response to the trauma and loneliness they have faced (Pearson 2018). In terms of the stereotype

around laziness, a key point of understanding is that many people who experience homelessness

are in fact employed or actively searching for a job; it is due to other factors that keep them from

accessing stable employment and finding affordable housing (Pearson 2018). Things as simple as
putting a home address down on a job application, having proper government identification, or

wearing work-appropriate clothing can serve as initial barriers.

However, the unpacking the complicated intersection of classism, racism, sexism, and

homophobia in relation to poverty is what truly broke the narrative of a single story for me. Even

now, as I attempt to write about one topic, I find myself veering off into another, and then back

again into a different one. These “isms” are so intertwined that it is impossible to talk about one

without including the others. For example, I had the intention of writing about the difficulties

involved with social mobility and the “poverty trap”. I wanted to discuss how primarily low-

wage and low-skill jobs are available to those experiencing homelessness and how employers

can take advantage of the “disposability” of these low-wage workers due to a large labor pool.

Furthermore, I wanted to discuss how there are additional challenges to maintaining jobs when a

person is also dealing with the many challenges that accompany homelessness, like having

access to reliable transportation, maintaining one’s physical health, coping with mental stress,

keeping oneself clean, and more.

However, in order to discuss why its primarily low-wage jobs that are available in the

first place, we get into issues of education. Classist implications dictate the quality and extent of

education someone is able to receive. The wealthy have the greatest access to “good” education

and higher education, which allows them to pursue the “best” and highest-paying jobs.

Furthermore, classism and education get into issues of school district funding, which is an

inherently racialized topic, as neighborhoods where minority groups primarily live tend to get the

least amount of funding. Dropout rates might also pertain to someone needing to work full time

in order to provide for their family, or perhaps being tormented due to one’s sexual orientation.

The list of scenarios and factors that relate to these “isms” can go on and on. The point is that all
of these forms of oppression operate hand in hand and allow certain people to be successful in

our society, while restricting others. Thus, the narrative that it’s a person’s own fault for their

impoverishment is entirely untrue. In order to tackle poverty, we need to dismantle entire

systems of oppression simultaneously.

Besides rethinking the single story, another way my perceptions of the world were

drastically altered was in the context of citizenship. I had honestly never considered or used

citizenship besides as a legal status. When describing “acts of citizenship” I thought of things

like voting or serving in the military. However, I soon came to learn that “citizenship is a status

bestowed on those who are full members of a community” (Marshall 2009). I had always

assumed that as long as someone was legally a “citizen” then they would have “citizenship”.

However, that is very much not the case. If citizenship is “bestowed” then that implies that there

is someone else in a position of power deciding who citizenship will be “given” to; thus there is

an inherent power dynamic within society. In order for someone to be considered a “full

member” of our modern society, they need to be seen as “contributing”, which often entails

being a worker (Marshall 2009). We have decided a “norm” for who should be given citizenship,

and through its narrow definition, many people experiencing homelessness have often been

excluded.

The criminalization of homeless lives is a way in which these people are “othered” and

have their citizenship taken away from them. The homeless are criminalized by outlawing

“necessary, life sustaining activities” including actions like sitting or standing in public places,

sleeping in public places, and urination or defecation in public (Olsen, MacDonald, & Rankin

2015). However, these banishment laws are in place not because these people are engaging in

criminal activity, but simply because they are “out of place” (Olsen, MacDonald, & Rankin
2015). It’s clear that they are not considered “full members” of the community because certain

spaces that should be available to everyone are not welcoming to people experiencing

homelessness. For example, during our walking tour of the University District we observed that

even though several direct service providers are located in an alley behind “The Ave”, those

experiencing homelessness aren’t allowed to remain in the alleyway during the day because it’s

“bad for business” for the neighboring shops like Mod Pizza and Café Allegro. By “othering”

these people and ostracizing them, we are effectively stripping them not only of their citizenship,

but dignity as individuals.

While the definition of citizenship has changed for me over the course of the quarter, so

has the definition for “acts of citizenship”. Reevaluating what acts of citizenship are has allowed

me to realize and acknowledge my own privilege in ways that I had never understood before.

While I knew that things such as being white, cis-gendered, upper-middle class, able-bodied, and

highly educated gave me advantages in society, I had never truly understood the far-reaching

implications of those advantages. The privilege that stuck out the most to me was that I have the

option to be silent. I have the option to not do anything to stop perpetuating oppressions of others

because I am reaping the benefits from these oppressions. In a very individualistic manner, since

something didn’t personally affect me, I didn’t feel a particular need to speak out against it. In its

simplest terms, because of my privilege I didn’t have to care.

However, an introduction to care ethics has completely changed my mindset in what an

act of citizenship means, and what my personal responsibility is as a member of society. Care

ethics involves putting care at the forefront of all our actions and values, instead of things like

individual and market success (Lawson). Prioritizing care means recognizing that we all need

care: it isn’t just the young, old, dependent, and flawed. However, some people might need more
care than others, so treating everyone equally isn’t enough; instead we need to foster empathy,

responsiveness, attentiveness, and responsibility within ourselves and one another (Lawson). A

care ethic means building bridges between people and closing the gaps in what is becoming an

increasingly divided society. Furthermore, I think a care ethic intersects with the notion of

relational poverty; in one of the interviews I transcribed for the RPN, Sanford Schram

exemplifies the connection between relational poverty and a care ethic when he said, “We’ve

become more segregated, not just racially but economically and politically. It seems now that

people choose to live in areas where “their” people are and that includes politics as well as class

and race--making it harder for communities to come together across those lines. …So a relational

approach, I think, is very powerful in highlighting how we’re pulling apart, and we need to be

coming together. The resistance needs, in my mind, especially in response to my more optimistic

students, to highlight that and emphasize that, and bring more different people in together to

push back against attempts to keep us apart” (Bonds & Schram).

Thus, in my mind, an act of citizenship is now redefined as being a part of the resistance

that Sanford Schram mentioned. It means doing what I can to help bring people together and

build community. I have realized that creating change and dismantling institutionalized

oppressions are not things that I have the option to ignore any longer. If I am to operate under a

care ethic, I need to become an active participant to serve the needs of others even though their

needs might be different than my own. Thus, with this sentiment in mind, the way in which the

RPN is a project of disruption became very clear to me. The RPN is establishing a care ethic

through its network and fostering that sense of community for the greater good that has often

been lost in today’s society.

 As this quarter ends and I leave this class, I also wondered how I can continue the work

that we started given all the new knowledge and perspective I have gained. I have grappled with

the duality of wanting to take action, yet also knowing that for real change to ensue, it needs to

come from more than just myself. So, an extremely powerful image for how to proceed has come

from the idea of “concentric circles” in which we think of the world starting with ourselves in the

middle, our direct connections and communities in the second circle, and the community we live

in at large as the last one (Olivet 2017). Starting with ourselves in the center, we can make

personal changes in the way we think, talk, and treat others. We can also start to impact those

immediately around us, like our friends, family, and coworkers. Then once we start seeing

changes there, we can work out further to our entire community. However, in order to challenge

the dominant narrative of homelessness and see any real change, we need to start working at all

three of those levels simultaneously.

I know that the change within myself has already started. I now think differently about

the world around me. My previous biases and stereotypes have been shattered. My understanding

of the complexities of oppressions and power dynamics within our society has deepened. My

desire to help create change has been awoken. I now look to continue developing these changes

within myself, but also to start impacting those around me. Especially as a business student, I

have now become aware of the lack of any sort of teaching around a care ethic, or as it is referred

to in in business terms, “corporate social responsibility”. I hope to bring this new perspective to

my future classes and start to turn wheels in the minds of others. While I wish that every person

had the opportunity to take a class like this and learn as much as I have over the course of this

quarter, that is unfortunately not the case. So, I feel a sense of personal responsibility to take

what I’ve learned and spread it to the best of my ability. While everything that we’ve covered
over the course of this quarter is simply the tip of the iceberg in terms of tackling oppression and

unlearning poverty, I feel as though I know too much at this point to do nothing about it. For this

new sense of understanding and learning experience, I don’t know how else to conclude other

than by saying that I am grateful. Utterly and completely grateful.

 Bibliography

Bonds, Anne and Sanford Schram. “Relational Poverty Network.” Relational Poverty Network,
University of Washington Department of Geography, Accessed 13 Mar. 2018.

Demirel, Sinan. “What's next for Seattle's homeless?” Crosscut, 13 Oct. 2016,
features.crosscut.com/seattle-homeless-the-future-facing-homelessness.

Lawson, Victoria. “Geographies of Care and Responsibility.” Department of Geography,

University of Washington, pp. 1–11.

Marshall, T H. “Citizenship and Social Class.” Inequality and Society, WW Norton and Co,
2009, pp. 148–154.

Olivet, Jeff. “Coming Together to Address Racism and Homelessness.” The Huffington Post,
TheHuffingtonPost.com, 21 Jan. 2017, www.huffingtonpost.com/jeff-olivet/coming-
together-to-addres_b_14308730.html.

Olson, Justin and MacDonald, Scott and Rankin, Sara, Washington's War on the Visibly Poor: A
Survey of Criminalizing Ordinances & Their Enforcement (May 6, 2015). Seattle
University School of Law Research Paper No. 15-19, Published by the SU Homeless
Rights Advocacy Project.

Pearson, Chris. “Understand and Working with Unhomed Youth.” Honors 231 . Honors 231 , 11
Jan. 2018, Seattle.

“Relational Poverty Network (RPN).” Relational Poverty Network,

depts.washington.edu/relpov/.

Roy, Ananya, and Nicholas De Genova. “Relational Poverty Network.” Relational Poverty
Network, University of Washington Department of Geography, Accessed 13 Mar. 2018.