It’s a familiar scene near highway junctions. The cardboard signs, the dirty, sun-stained faces, and the religious sentiment, “God bless.” Familiar, yet uncomfortable. It is easier to ignore the person standing near the offramp and pretend not to see the look of desperation in eyes that squint from the brightness and heat of the sun. It is easier to keep driving.
Many people do choose to avert their eyes, inch their fingertips towards the lock buttons of their vehicles, and slowly roll up their windows rather than confront the legacy of social injustice staring straight at them. However, rolled up windows and locked car doors are not enough to completely brush off that sneaking feeling of shame, that lump in the throat that won’t go down, that empty hallow feeling sitting in the pit of the stomach near the seatbelt. It is that uncomfortable body’s reaction acknowledging that a fellow human being — someone’s son, daughter, or hero — is begging on the side of the road.
[For more of this story, written by Sadies CÉng, go to https://substance.media/homele...shadows-1a654229980a]
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