On the streets and in parks across Florida, as I live here and cannot speak for other regions, the horrors of ignored mental health and homelessness are a genuine threat to public safety and health. These issues should be of concern to all Floridians and all Americans and are the responsibility of all levels of government and civil society.
Each morning, there are homeless people — people, like you and me — sleeping in the doorway of my place of business in Fort Lauderdale. Many are clearly disturbed and troubled, sometimes hostile, and often confused. They are often dirty and appear to be unhealthy.
One particular morning earlier this month, it all hit home for me. I found a letter from the Florida Department of Family and Children’s Services informing me that my son, who has a mental illness, could be kicked off social services as of the next day. The mail was sent to the wrong address, as was his SNAP renewal (which I am now trying to get reinstated, but he has been off that service for two months now.)
My son, without support, is unable to take care of himself let alone keep up with the red tape demanded by state government. He is permanently disabled. Florida’s services are already greatly deficient and the state eagerly, or seemingly so, pushes people off these programs and into the street with little thought of what it does to the individual, their families or the community at large.
After going online to fill out a 15-page form, which asks for costs, charges and other personal information that is not in the least bit relevant to my son’s need for services, I left for the office. I work for a small nonprofit. When I arrived at 9 a.m., there were a group of homeless men and women on the doorstep. Some had slept there all night, others were getting out of the rain. Some were hostile, others mumbled under their breaths as if talking to themselves or the rain.
The number of people I find each morning is growing, their demeanor is progressively more aggressive, and the condition of our doorway — sometimes smeared with human feces or other bodily waste, grows more difficult to deal with.
Living with a son with mental health issues, I am sensitive to the plight of those on my doorstep at work; I fear for my son if something should happen to me. I am forced to imagine his life on the streets of this inhospitable state with a system in place that is failing at an alarming rate and a government that brags about its record surpluses while its citizens wander the streets looking for a crust of bread, the hope of a shelter from the rain, and medical attention they so desperately need.
Weapons are easier to come by in Florida than anti-psychotic medications for those in need. Getting medication for an adult with ADHD is harder to come by in Florida than it is to kick someone out of their home, and the process for maintaining services, in a state that practically brags about its toughness and opposition to those who cannot defend themselves, is unfortunately becoming a thing of legend.
Government’s primary responsibility includes social welfare — taking care of its people. Florida is failing, and those who wander the streets and inhabit doorways and park benches are living testimony to this historic failure.
When I return home from work today, I will take my son for a drive, get him something to eat, do his laundry, clean his bathroom, and be thankful he has a roof over his head — at least as long as I am alive, and no thanks to the government that is elected to serve him and others in need.
Robert Kesten is executive director of the Stonewall Museum in Fort Lauderdale.