Cardboard Boxes and Schizophrenia

When the Hunger and Homelessness Action Team decided to take action on homelessness, they tried to sleep in boxes they foraged from dumpsters around New Orleans. I guess it was supposed to raise “awareness.” During the event, however, drunk kids — out of either genuine anger or juvenile vanity — thought it necessary to harass the students sleeping in boxes. TUPD had to be called.

Now first of all, it’s painfully obvious that the event was fairly impotent; though it was a bit better than most of Tulane’s attempts at community-organizing events. And, well, at least it was an attempt, which is more than rest of can say.

Was the activity flawed? Yes. Was the next logical course of action to drunkenly harass the participants? No. But did they have a point? Kinda. Sleeping in boxes isn’t going to do anything for homelessness. It doesn’t even raise real awareness. The fact that a whole bunch of people sleep in boxes under bridges is something known to all Tulane students, despite how hilariously sheltered we all are. A way to take “action” against homelessness would be to raise awareness of issues that matter, like the causes of homelessness (not its superficial conditions, i.e. not having a home/sleeping in boxes) and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Apparently, some of our box prodding, blue polo shirt and seersucker short-wearing heroes said things like “Homeless people should just get jobs at McDonald’s.” Anyone that holds that opinion or anything similar that implies homeless people are just lazy or spend all their money on drugs and alcohol have not been around many homeless people. They’re not drug addicts, and they aren’t lazy. They’re crazy.

Charlie lives up and down Tchoupitoulas street. I, and probably some of you, see him all the time. I first noticed him outside Wal-Mart, but a few weeks ago on the way to a BBQ I saw him outside Winn-Dixie. I made a mental note. There were, of course, leftovers, and to feel good about myself and impress this girl I was with, I brought Charlie some burgers. His sign usually says “Wounded Vet, God Bless,” so I decided to ask him about it. Instead of a heart-wrenching story about dragging his best friend out of a booby trap in Cambodia, I got 15 minutes of paranoid, delusional ranting. Charlie is mentally ill. That’s why he sleeps in boxes.

Three years after Katrina, Charity Hospital remains abandoned. It used to be the largest ward for the seriously mentally ill in New Orleans. Now the Orleans Parish Prison holds that honor.

The number one cause of homelessness is, and always will be, inadequate public mental health. Raise awareness for that, not boxes.

Jeff Silberman is the views editor. He can be reached for comment at jsilbs@gmail.com.