“Joel!”

I stopped, right smack in the middle of the flow of bodies in the crosswalk, spinning a full circle in search of the distant voice with no success.

Why would I risk being hit by a passing car or shoved by a dozen frantic people bustling to their destinations?

Because I heard my name. Such a powerful word. Our names — Jacob, Olivia, Carlos, Joel — can stop us mid-stride, just to find the source of the sound.

Our names connect us to our identities. Some people are named after heroes or favorite family members. A grandmother, a President, a celebrity. The word gives a sense of dignity when it is signed.

Numerous times, however, I have been reminded that naming people “homeless” or “the homeless” is insensitive, almost name calling. I used to think this was just another overly-sensitive, politically correct response from activists who spend their days looking for reasons to complain.

But when I am on the streets talking to a person who is homeless I don’t start the conversation with, “Hey, you homeless person.”

I usually start with, “Hi, my name is Joel. What’s yours?” Because using a person’s name is the respectful thing to do.

How do we instill that sense of respect when we are describing a whole group of people who are homeless on the streets of America? Homeless people? The homeless? Those are the typical, ubiquitous terms.

But if we were describing another group of Americans, would we say the same? The Asians? The Mexicans? We might say, “The homeless need housing.” But would we say, “The Mexicans need housing?”

Usually the politically correct way of describing groups of people is Asian-American, Mexican-American, African-American. But when describing people who live on our streets, we name them by their state of helplessness: the homeless.

It just doesn’t feel right. Especially when we all know a name is a significant part of who we are. A name connects us to a tribe. Often, people who are homeless are also tribe-less, without much connection to family.

I am a Roberts. My name is not very “Asian,” but it is my identity whether I look it or not. My name marks my tribe and engulfs me in a sense of belonging. My tribe has Christian missionary roots in China. The Roberts tribe, with its own roots in Europe and America, wanted to change the world. They jumped on a ship and headed to Asia to preach a message of hope and change. In the process, they changed the life of an Asian boy — me! — by adopting him.

My name possesses deep meaning, strong roots, and is a powerful sign of hope. My name destined me to help tribe-less Americans.

In the process of helping people who are homeless, we must change the way we name them. How about Homeless Americans?

And we should remember the importance of knowing each Homeless American by their real name, whether it is Jacob, Olivia, Carlos… or Joel.

In March, Americans celebrate coffee addiction awareness month. Does that mean no visits to Starbucks that month? Talk about sacrifice.

There are, however, significant issues that this country needs to overtly highlight in order to overcome societal sins. For example, February is African American History month. For a country that has struggled with race relations, it is appropriate to ensure that the next generation of Americans doesn’t forget the sins of past generations.

Homelessness is another struggle that this country has failed to overcome. When the most prosperous nation in the world struggles to house its own citizens, I honestly see this as a societal sin. Shame on us.

Advocates who desperately campaign for the abolition of American homelessness are promoting homeless awareness weeks and months, typically in the fall. The National Coalition for the Homeless sets aside a week before Thanksgiving as the National Homeless Awareness Week. National youth coalitions set aside November as National Youth Awareness Month.

Local groups set aside October as National Homeless Awareness Month. Butler County, Pennsylvania designates August as their awareness month.

Many groups will highlight the week before Thanksgiving as Homeless Awareness Week, including Austin, Texas and Washington State University . California’s Cal Poly State San Luis Obispo highlights homelessness the last week of April.

I honestly feel that our country needs to seriously look at the fact that hundreds of thousands of our citizens are desperately struggling with life on the streets. Highlighting this plight is not simply a cause that keeps charities and student groups busy for a week or a month. When our homeless neighbors are rotting away on the streets every day, and every month of the year, we should bring together all of the homeless awareness weeks and months into ONE month of the year.

I propose October.

Why? Most Americans typically stop their chaotic lives during the end of the year holidays – Thanksgiving, Hanukah, and Christmas – to help those Americans who are less fortunate.

With the agency that I oversee, we are inundated with volunteers who want to “feed the homeless” during Thanksgiving and Christmas – November and December. But feeding a person for an evening or a month is just not enough.

If this country is serious about ending homelessness, we need to direct volunteers and our massive resources toward permanently housing homeless persons.

Let’s set aside October as that month to highlight the fact that homeless Americans need to be permanently housed. Not during November’s Thanksgiving, when we typically overstuff our bellies with turkey and mashed potatoes, and then feel guilty about those who do not have enough to eat.

The month of October is better. Because for our homeless neighbors who suffer on our streets every day, October is just as scary as it is for little children running through haunted houses on Halloween.

Photo credit: Andrew Brown