Honoring Humanity In Everyday Life | About

Portraits of Untold Humanity

Beautiful when cast in the right light.

I’m not sure what part of her story brought the first teardrops to my eyes.

Maybe it was when told me how much she missed her old job.

Perhaps it was when she shared how she lost everything she owned because she was a few minutes late in paying the bill on her storage unit.

Or it could have been the point she talked about her mother’s pride in her making it on her own in Chicago. That was six months ago, and she doesn’t have the strength to admit to her family that she lost her job and is homeless.

As she shared her story over hot dogs and fries, I felt my heart breaking. No words could diminish the depth of her suffering. All I had in my power to do was to listen – to open myself to her story. So I did.

***

Wandering through downtown Chicago, a man asks me for some change. I pause to talk to him.

I ask his name, he gives it and I give him mine. We shake hands.

He tells me how he’s studying hard for his GED. His dream is to become a computer technician. I’m struck by his determination to overcome the challenges life has thrown at him. I’m challenged by his intent to make something of his life. I’m inspired by his courage.

As we part ways, I wish him success on his upcoming exams.

***

I pass a man selling Streetwise – a magazine that helps the homeless. We chat for a bit.

He tells me about the place he lives – a shelter nearby. He seems to like it there. It provides him protection from the cold and a bed to sleep in.

We talk about his family. He has kids that are grown and relatives out on the west coast. He speaks warmly of them all.

He mentions how lovely the weather is. The day is nice, and I agree with him completely.

His concerns are not so different than mine. He cares about having a place to live, family to love and to be loved by, and work to earn his meals with. He enjoys good weather. Our conversation reminds me that people are more alike than different.

I buy a magazine and continue on my way.

***

The poor have such powerful stories. They change me. They affect me.

Their stories expand my worldview, challenging my often too narrow perspectives on love, generosity, compassion, justice, and gratitude.

Their stories open my heart, pushing me to face the realities of pain and suffering. They call me to be someone who cares.

Their stories move me to act. They remind me of my responsibility as a storyteller to share them – to capture these portraits of untold humanity.

their untold stories
of strength and beauty untold
deserve to be told

Everyone has a story. Everyone has a story worth telling. Sadly, many of them go untold because the owner is too poor or too insignificant. What a waste.

Those stories are magnificent. They are of untold beauty, courage and strength. They are of untold humanity. And they are worthy of attention.

cast in the right light
what is thought ordinary
can be beautiful

People are more than a snapshot – more than stereotypes and assumptions. In telling their stories, I hope to capture their complexity. I want to give a glimpse into the wealth of experiences behind the way they act and see the world.

I also accept that I cannot tell everything. Even a full memoir is not enough to convey the complete story of a person. But I can offer a view into that story. I can give enough to show the essence of who they are – a portrait to speak to their value.

lift and raise them up
make other people matter
uphold dignity

Part of the Bright Army’s mission is making other people matter. I’ve spent time sharing my story, and I’ll continue to do so since it is the one I know best. But I also want to tell stories of the poor, of people I meet while traveling, and of you, my readers.

As I seek out people’s stories, I want to respect those who tell them. In listening to them, in paying attention to them – I desire to show that they are worth noticing. I hope to convey dignity and humanity.

***

uncertainty is
a signpost of worthiness
i see much of it

I must be honest with you. I am terrified by this endeavor. I question if I have the skills and knowledge necessary. I wonder where I will find the stories. I worry about taking advantage of the people whose stories I tell. I feel nervous talking to people outside of my comfort zone.

Yet these fears, although genuine, are a front for a deeper fear. They mask the real issue. The reason this effort scares me so much is because it is so important. I’m afraid because I care.

I’m willing to face my fears, but I’m going to need your help. Here are a few ways you can do that.

Engage the stories with me here on the Bright Army. Learn from them. Let them touch you. Join the conversation about them.

Help me tell those stories. Offer suggestions of people whose story I should tell.

Finally, seek out stories for yourself. Take time to listen. If you’re hesitant or unsure of where to start, begin by learning names. Names are one of the most powerful stories people have.

***

Glances cast as quickly taken snapshots
Judgements arranged and frozen into frame
Through the heartless lens of haves and have-nots
Without a care to even catch her name
Doesn’t matter if the background’s cluttered
Or if the foreground lighting is not good
For without a thought or comment uttered
It’s soon discarded and misunderstood
Oh to have a chance to show her value
To show there’s much beneath her tired face
To have one take the time to see what’s true
To catch the story of her strength and grace
All she wants is to be more than zero
And the chance to become someone’s hero

After telling me of her lost job, stolen possessions, and hidden shame, my new friend tells me something I’ll never forget.

“I just want to be treated as more than zero.”

To you, and the countless others that long for the same, I say this: You are worth far more than zero. And through your openness, seen in the brilliance of the stories you share with me, you have become my heroes.

###

PHOTO: Beautiful when cast in the right light. Kenya.