Danielle Minji Jung

Figueroa Gray, English 198

November 19, 2012
Watching Your Back:
Inside the Population Deemed Excessive
I am standing in a well-lit room. Spacious, but still cozy, it is clean, the sort of slightly
discolored scrubbed sanitation but with the impossibility of total spotlessness, clean.
Encapsulated between the yellow tinted walls are gray and brown tables. Pushed together to
make stout rows, they are lined against the walls in equal increments, leaving space in the center
of the room. Approximately eight black chairs carefully line each table. Close to the door is a
raised front desk. Behind, there are filing cabinets, stacks of paper, towers of boxes, and two
swivel chairs. Billboards brimming with phone numbers, small print information, and
inspirational pictures line the adjacent wall. A weighty poster dangles at the heart of the room,
reading, The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. On the far side of the room, there is a
kitchen. A long steel cafeteria-style counter steaming with chicken, rice and vegetables borders
the steel kitchen. Chatting incessantly behind that cafeteria counter are about seven girls. These
girls are all white, about high school age, and a whopping five of them are blonde. A tall white
adult male accompanies them. Their group activity entails serving a ladle full of food to each
clutched empty plate and politely smiling. The steel counter is their bunker, and they remain
behind it for the duration of their visit, before wordlessly streaming out single-file after the meal
is over. Unlike the troupe of girls, I have no delineated or obvious purpose there, and I make my
way around the room, posting myself in this nook and perching in that cranny in order to
physically get a holistic view of the field. This is Operation NightWatch, a night-to-night
homeless shelter and soup kitchen. While this oasis of resources and comfort slings the homeless
community together in physical closeness, a community is hardly achieved, as the manners and
overall engagements between individuals are tense. I only conducted casual conversations and

simple observations for a few hours yet, I noticed the unmistakably strained interactions within
the group I had previously assumed to be fairly homogenous and genial towards its own
members. The NightWatch homeless, a marginalized population exterior of societys behavioral
norms of courtesy in public places, blatantly base interactions on the intersecting variables of
race, power, and social position, intensifying racial stigmas and legitimizing hostilities, despite
the undeniable desire of a return to normalcy and restoration of community.
It was dark outside, but the light from the room cast slight glimpses of those waiting
outside. After gathering outside for nearly an hour beforehand, the population was finally
permitted inside promptly at nine. The stream of people filing in was nearly entirely male. A
backpack, anything from a drawstring sack to a cumbersome hiking backpack, appeared to be
standard issue. I stood in full view of the seating areas and saw each person, with tray of hot food
in hand, saunter over to a table of their choice. One elderly man pulled out a plastic container of
Cajun powder and generously shook it over his meal. After the first eight people had taken their
seats, I noticed that none of them had chosen to sit next to each other. It was only until nearly
every empty table was occupied that people sat by each other, but it was out of a forced
proximity. This came as a great surprise to me. I had imagined the NightWatch homeless to be
substantially sociable among themselves, congregated warmly in an inviting and pleasant
building. And yet, there was an atmosphere of suppressed hostility and austere individualism.
The overall sentiments between those present was of a keep your head down, dont bother me
and we wont have any trouble nature. The palpable aversion between those at Operation
NightWatch only heightened later on.
A little into the meal, as latecomers arrived, I observed a peculiar event which especially
exemplified this hostile attitude. One African American man was sitting with an Asian male with
a beanie across him. With the arrival of his friend, the African American man asked the Asian

male with the beanie to get up and move. Although the beanie man did not explicitly protest, he
sighed and asked resentfully, Well, can I at least leave my stuff over here? A moment of eye
contact and a nod later, the Asian man stood up, mustered his tray, and made his way to another
table while an African American male replaced his forfeited seat. In any given public space,
certain norms are existent. Usually, someone will ask another politely to make room for their
friend or borrow a spare chair to pull up if certain accommodations are in order. However, never
is one person asked and expected to move from a spot they have already, even momentarily, been
acquainted with. While this law is implicit, it is rigidly and unconditionally practiced in public
spaces. It was obvious that the Asian male did not want to move. He was in the middle of
enjoying his meal. The tone of his response was slightly indignant and had an edge of bitterness,
expressing obvious resentment towards the mans request. So the core question simply comes
down to: why did he move if he did not want to? From the view of this man, perhaps fighting for
his right to his seat was not worth the trouble. In a swift calculation, perhaps he concluded that
the possible consequences of his defiance outweighed his own comfort and pride. In simpler
turns, under these circumstances, he felt less powerful and therefore acquiesced.
Upon initial regard, one may think this is an insignificant, unique event that cannot be
used to synthesize overarching ideas about dynamics within a homeless shelter. However, I saw
this occurrence again, within ten minutes of the first occasion. In this second case, a young
African American woman stood up during the thick of the meal and ordered a white male to
move. He made no protest, but hastily picked up his tray and joined the man in the beanie at the
castoff table. His lack of opposition may have been due to apathetic indifference but once again,
being forced to move during a meal is defiant of common courtesy and integral, implicit
customs. When examining both incidents, it is impossible to ignore the screaming theme of race.
Both instigators of the commands were African American, and both targets were not. In the

context of the dwellers of Operation NightWatch, blacks were the obvious majority at the shelter,
rendering the small slice of Caucasians and Asians as the new minority. In fact, according to a
report released by the Institute for Children, Poverty, and Homelessness in 2010, blacks are
seven times more likely to seek refuge in a homeless shelter than whites (Jones 2012). Because
of this dramatic logistical race shift from society to the shelter, the power dynamics had been
completely transformed in such a way foreign to outside onlookers.
In a homeless shelter, positional power and socioeconomic status had little influence in
this particular interaction because they were all on a general level playing field. So if money and
position were not key factors, this leads to the conclusion that the concept of power must have
derived from an alternative source: race. Focusing on the woman, even though todays society
supposedly treats women equal to men on paper, the fact is that men still have control of the
world. Considering our hegemonic society, in which white males dictate the dominant culture, it
is surprising for an African American woman to assume a commanding status. In this fragmented
social scene, the behaviors show that in this space, the norms and values of larger society do not
all apply here. Because of the new racial dynamics and what is considered acceptable, power is
completely redefined. In the volume, Social Inquiry, it is stated that, Post-bellum discourse
invoked dysfunction as evidence of the negro problem, locating the problems of race in the
United States within that group itself (Wasserman, et al 2012). In other words, historically,
racial intolerance and stigmatizing blacks as problems caused dysfunction within society,
bringing to light the fact that there was systematic oppression meant to clamp blacks down. In an
effort to rebel and regain some basis of power, racial association and bonding has become an
integral ideology, creating rigid racial groups and amplifying tensions. Within the homeless
themselves, this idea of dysfunction as a function of rebellion illustrates that race is the primary
decisive factor from which power can be tapped. Furthermore, without an outlet of power by

socioeconomic position within the marginalized group of the homeless, race takes over to shape
everyday interaction and relationships. It is true that within the marginalized group of the
homeless, racial lines are even deepened because of the lack of power and position
socioeconomically.
In another racial instance, one white male, presumably mentally ill, yelled at an African
American man, calling him a big boy. This escalated into a tense situation as the African
American man threatened, You better watch your mouth. In terms of race and gender, the
balance has shifted, and this shapes the relationships and interactions of the NightWatch
homeless. After conversations with a white homeless man, I learned that racial lines are firmly
held. Richard, a frequent inhabitant of Operation NightWatch, casually stated that intermingling
with black people just wouldnt happen. They dont like us and we dont like them. This racial
divide and balance of power reflects a new culture in which stereotypes and racial stigmas are
heightened, with rivalries and as practically the only relationships cross-racially.
While I observed the dynamics within the NightWatch homeless themselves, upon further
reflection, I evaluated my own presence in this space. I noticed there was a gaping disparity in
the manner people approached me depending on my two primary positions. I started out behind
the front desk with the head worker by my side. My job was to record the names of women who
entered and hand out bus tickets. Those standing in line would smile at me, ask me my name, and
comment that it was nice having a new volunteer. It was clear and obvious why I was there,
sitting behind that swivel chair. I had a purpose behind the desk. However, after about twenty
minutes I posted myself near the rows of tables, leaning against the wall. I was awkwardly
standing alone, scribbling furiously away in a notebook. People would stare at me and had no
problem asking me what exactly I was doing there. No one was rude, but I did not receive the
overly friendly vibe I had received for the duration of my time behind the desk. My perceived

position and purpose from the homeless people influenced the way they interacted with me. In
my swivel chair, I had the positional power as a volunteer of an organization that provided them
resources. But on the ground level, I was just a person obviously out of place and many
disregarded the formality and needless decorum when addressing me, assuming instead a more
conversational and confrontational tone.
While standing there, observing, many individuals approached me and started
conversation. I wanted to ask all about their lives and views on our world but all they wanted
was to hear about my life, even though I mostly shared mundane details. In fact seemed satisfied,
fulfilled even as I explained about how bad drip coffee tastes and the names of my pet fish at
home. Finally I asked a group of men what exactly they craved most. At first, they responded
quickly, shouting out money, home cooked meals, and even drugs. He had answered, a return to
normalcy. I asked him what exactly normalcy meant and he simply responded, relationships.
Whether it was a normal interaction with strangers on the sidewalk, hanging out with old friends,
or restored relationships with his family, going back to the way things were was what he
missed most from his current predicament. Evan explained how he could see the way people
viewed him, the way they avoided [him] like the plague. He mentioned that passerby saw him
with a them vs. us mentality even though he was once one of us, once normal. Stefan
Czarnowski writes about this social margin, a physical and abstract place of liminality, neither
here nor there, where the inhabitants are people below all the social classes, without a clear
social status. From the position of production of material or intellectual goods they are
considered unnecessary, so they are considered by themselvesunable to find a place in the
world (Mendel 2011). Being homeless is not simply living without a permanent roof over ones
head or the hardships of being cold, hungry, and dirty. In a cruel, yet often unconscious societal
act of prejudice and unyielding alienation, homeless people are shoved to the brink of society

where they are denied acceptance and significance in a world they once belonged in. To many,
this human estrangement, whether illustrated through subtle lack of eye contact or blatant
hostilities, is considered the most painful part of living on the streets, much more so than the
physical discomforts.
By the end of the night and my time at Operation NightWatch, I realized that I had talked
nonstop for nearly two hours. My throat was scratchy. Undivided interest, a shower of questions,
and a competition for my attention characterized the majority of my short but gratifying field
visit. In such a small window of time, I learned that within the homeless community, societys
orthodox concept of power is denied and radically reevaluated. Already stomped to the bottom of
the socioeconomic pyramid, many homeless people have been marginalized to the point of
complete powerlessness in society. And perhaps it is the absence of power in many homeless
lives that lead to the abuse of it in forms where it is readily accessible, intensifying racial
tensions and widening the racial gap. But even more, the homeless are deposited to a status
where loneliness and misunderstanding run rampant. While interactions within this marginalized
population are fundamentally based off concepts of power, position, and race, what many want is
simply a community where their voice is heard and cared for. Perhaps to improve their lives, we
should not just provide volunteers who stand behind counters serving food but humans willing to
give homeless people time, attention, and treatment as fellow human beings.