Life is like a desert, where only
the most tenacious are able to weather the elements.
I was homeless through the summer of 2011.
Homelessness happened to me, a twenty-four
year old female, within the city which I first planted my shallow roots, Atlanta, Georgia.
I moved thirteen times in between the middle
of May and the end of August and lived with nine different hosts.
Atlanta, whose earth
is the burnt sienna of phoenix tears, was a fitting climate symbolic of
my endurance and evolution. Atlanta was incinerated during the American Civil War, renamed three times, and was the
cradle of the Civil Rights Movement. This
south was no place for weak-hearted creatures.
I drifted across the city of
Atlanta. I lived as far south as Warner
Robins, Ga., as far north as Pittsburgh, Pa., and as far west as Black Rock
City, Nv. Being homeless for three
months incorporated living and assimilating into cultures radically different
than my own. This required wit,
cunning, and an ability to code switch.
Fear was not an option. Weakness
had to be abolished. Concentrating was a
necessary absolute.
I was molded by my conditions. I learned to be bold and to always exude
confidence. I inferred to expect the
unexpected. I grasped what it meant to
take chances. I realized how to trust my
instincts. I discovered that I should
assume nothing. I identified how to be
resourceful. I deduced how to be mindful. I appreciated seizing the day. I became proficient in communicating with
clarity. Most importantly, I recognized
that there is absolutely nothing in this world that is worth compromising
personal integrity. All obstacles can be
overcome with enough passion and drive to do so. Finally, in a society that insists upon
having more, I have come to understand to make do with what is at hand.
