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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (April 16, 2004)
diverse as homeless youth themselves. O ne of the kids at p:ear hit the streets because his mom started selling drugs. A nother young woman was outright abandoned. “She came home from school one day and mom’s gone, all the clothes are gone, everything’s gone,” says Cartier. There is also the all-too-familiar story of the exemplary kid— pulling straight A’s in school, on the chess team— who is kicked out of the house after telling his parents he is gay. It is not uncommon for children to become homeless because of their sexual orientation. The National Network of Runaway and Youth Services has estimated that 20 percent to 40 percent of youths who become homeless each year arc gay, lesbian or bi. Outside In, another Portland social service agency serving homeless youth, estimates that 30 percent of homeless youth are gay, lesbian, bi, trans or questioning. The denizens of p:ear seem to view sexuality as something fluid. Later in the week, when I ask some of the p:ear youth how many of them identify as queer, they scoff at me as if I had just asked how many of them drive BMWs. “I see [sexual orientation] like socks,” says p:ear founders Pippa Arend, Beth Bum s and Tuesday, a pretematurally beautiful girl in a long, pink dress. “Sometimes you pick one with stripes, sometimes you pick one w ithout...” “Unless something fundamental changes Odessa, who is now 21 and has known about the way someone feels about them Arend, Bums and Cartier since she was 15, selves, you can give them housing, treatment, mulls the question before saying: “I’ve identi jo b s...b u t it’s a revolving door,” says Cartier. fied as homosexual. I’ve identified as trans Though there was no model to base their sexual. I don’t know ....” She leans over and plan on, it took the would-be p:ear directors asks the cute boy with the facial tattoos sitting only six months for their idea to become a next to her, “W hat am I ?” reality. They pcxded their savings and added “You’re Odessa,” he replies. that money to $2,0 0 0 they made at a fund “Yes, I’m Odessa. The legend continues.” raiser for their project. P:ear came to fruition W hen I recount the episode to Bums, in February 2002 at an enviable location on Southwest Alder Street and Park whose partner is a woman, she smiles knowingly and says the statistics on Avenue. (W hen asked how they sexual identity aren’t necessarily scored such a coveted spot, Arend replies, “We called.”) reflective of what they see at p:ear. “It’s more like, ‘I was this yester day, I am this today, and I will be this tomorrow,’ ” says Bums. She notes that teen-agers in general ow p:ear’s d<x>rs are open seek out experimentation, and to homeless youth from also that the homeless youth com 8:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. Wednes munity tends to be accepting of day to Saturday. During that time, kids W different sexual orientations. who are enrolled in the program may come and go as they please “W hat p:ear is all and partake of as much educa about is trying to get tion, art and recreation as they these kids out of a box,” ■s wish. They come to eat; paint; says Bums. “You are not work on the computet; go on just homeless. You are not field trips to Portland Center just queer.” Prear’s mission is to Visiting artist Benjamin Alexander Stage, the museum or the beach; study for their GEDs; create something that Clark made this sculpture called learn from a visiting artist; or will help these kids alter “Daniel” as part of his inspired by just take refuge. their self-perception. p:ear exhibition Putting Down Roots shitty stuff to them ,” says Odessa. (Just that morning Bums’ camera had gone missing.) “But they’ve always accepted us back into their lives.” “P:ear is one of the reasons I’ve stayed in Portland,” says Tuesday, who feels supported in her recent endeavor to re-enter drug treatment. “It’s nice to walk into a place that services homeless youth and they notice if you’re sad.” Branching Out Joy Cartier hang with the art in their gallery While many service programs cut kids off after their 21st birthday (causing most home less youth to dread becoming an adult), p:ear is the only program that serves kids ages 15 to 23, with the stipulation that in order to con tinue until age 23, they have to enroll before their 21st birthday. “O ther organizations are cool if you’re just looking for a superficial ride until you’re 21, ” Odessa opines. “W hen you really need something legitimate, they aren’t there for you. ‘if you step outside our mold or have any problems we can’t duct tape, you have to leave.’ ” “ ‘And wash your hands,’ ” says Adrian, who started living in the streets a year ago after he was laid off from his high-tech job in Chicago. Homeless youth say they aren’t just look ing for the most obvious help. A free bed and some clothes are much appreciated, but youth often place a higher premium on their freedom of expression and identity, as well as their autonomy. For Tuesday, cither programs’ attempts to empathize with racial and queer issues some times feel stilted. “Here it’s not an issue. They don’t have to try,” she says. Arend echoes this sentiment by saying: “This is a relationship-based program. We’re not fak ing it. We’re not pretending to like these kids.” Many o f the kids cite the feeling of un conditional acceptance as the reason they love p:ear. “A lot of us have done some really he next time 1 descend on p:ear it is a Friday. The doors are very much open and I walk in to find the place teeming with people. Getting someone to sit down and talk with me is like trying to put a jacket on a hummingbird. I manage to chat with Suzy Kitman, a Portland artist who volunteers every week as a mentor. She is sitting at a long table, slyly working on an oil portrait of some of the youth. “You have to.be very flexible here,” Kitman says, advising me as much as reflecting on her experience. “It’s a very organic process.” Professional artists like Kitman say they get involved with p.ear to give back to their com munity and to provide homeless kids with posi tive, creative role models. "You could conceivably be the most rea sonable adult presence in their lives,” says Kitman, who notes that making personal connections with some of the kids is a high light. “It happens slowly, but it’s a beautiful thing when it does.” As if on cue, several youth convene around our table and begin chatting and working on art projects of their own. Arend, Bums and Cartier often refer to the young people as “kids,” yet the moniker doesn’t quite fit. If life experience counted toward being considered adults, these kids would be thought old beyond their years. Yet there is something childlike about them that inspires the fierce devotion the p:ear staff display. One way in which homeless youth have found to take care of themselves is to adopt fake names. ( Many of the names used here are not the youths’ given names.) Arend explains that these names are a part of street culture and are a way to create a new identity. For some kids who have warrants out for their arrest, it is a matter of physical protection from the law. For others it offers emotional protection. “Let’s say a kid’s name is Mike,” Arend says. "He turns 15, starts doing drugs, becomes a prostitute... he starts calling himself Shirley Temple because he wants to protect Mike, because Mike is good.” NEXTAWENTURE P ortlands A ltgrnativig S porting G ood ? ©3[f(ï]©(r 9rone = D I S c a r te & D f -HU i K s ] Continued on Page 2 9 Bryan
