A (Not So) Silent Spring
First in a series of essays by Joe Wilson. Artwork above by Robert Chambers
Nearly 60 years ago, the late Rachel Carson’s monumental work, Silent Spring, called out the intergenerational dangers of indiscriminate use of pesticides – poisoning our land, our food, and our children. Carson’s work helped ignite the global environmental movement, a fervent reminder of the power of using one’s voice for good. The COVID-19 pandemic has pulled back the curtain on much of the racism, injustice, and inequity in America – indeed right here in San Francisco - that we’ve struggled against for generations.
We can no longer be silent – not this Spring.
The COVID-19 outbreak at MSC-South, not only the City’s largest shelter but the largest in Northern California, is a long overdue wake up call. For years, we’ve ignored the dangers of large, congregate shelters with 300-plus person capacities – warehousing poor people in self-contained incubators of despair and disease. Each day our collective humanity is whittled away, lives in the balance, as our leaders weigh economic indicators, predictive models, and cost benefit analyses against the latest coroner’s reports. Six months ago, people experiencing homelessness were last in line. Today, they’re still last in line.
We can no longer be silent – not this Spring.
Poverty is unjust. Poverty kills. Poverty is preventable. Poverty cuts to heart of who we claim to be as a society. For years, medical professionals have publicly asserted that adequate housing is essential for adequate health. Homelessness and poverty lead to poor health, physical deterioration, compromised immune systems – and death. More than 1000 homeless people routinely on the wait list for shelter. For decades, San Francisco activists and faith leaders have held Homeless Deaths’ Memorials, to honor those gone too soon. Sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers - all died without a place to call their own, except a coffin.
We can no longer be silent – not this Spring.
At some point, when our lives return to some semblance of normal, we will look to the artists, the dreamers, and poet warriors, to remind us of what has transpired. We can no longer pretend that injustice is acceptable. We can no longer pretend we’re making progress. The twin pillars of race and class inequity, along with the systematic dismantling of our public institutions across multiple systems – are leaving casualties scattered across the global landscape. Making poverty palatable is not progress – and not what we in the human services field are supposed to be about. We must choose a better path.
We can no longer be silent – Not. One. More. Spring.
We can no longer be silent – not this Spring.
The COVID-19 outbreak at MSC-South, not only the City’s largest shelter but the largest in Northern California, is a long overdue wake up call. For years, we’ve ignored the dangers of large, congregate shelters with 300-plus person capacities – warehousing poor people in self-contained incubators of despair and disease. Each day our collective humanity is whittled away, lives in the balance, as our leaders weigh economic indicators, predictive models, and cost benefit analyses against the latest coroner’s reports. Six months ago, people experiencing homelessness were last in line. Today, they’re still last in line.
We can no longer be silent – not this Spring.
Poverty is unjust. Poverty kills. Poverty is preventable. Poverty cuts to heart of who we claim to be as a society. For years, medical professionals have publicly asserted that adequate housing is essential for adequate health. Homelessness and poverty lead to poor health, physical deterioration, compromised immune systems – and death. More than 1000 homeless people routinely on the wait list for shelter. For decades, San Francisco activists and faith leaders have held Homeless Deaths’ Memorials, to honor those gone too soon. Sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers - all died without a place to call their own, except a coffin.
We can no longer be silent – not this Spring.
At some point, when our lives return to some semblance of normal, we will look to the artists, the dreamers, and poet warriors, to remind us of what has transpired. We can no longer pretend that injustice is acceptable. We can no longer pretend we’re making progress. The twin pillars of race and class inequity, along with the systematic dismantling of our public institutions across multiple systems – are leaving casualties scattered across the global landscape. Making poverty palatable is not progress – and not what we in the human services field are supposed to be about. We must choose a better path.
We can no longer be silent – Not. One. More. Spring.
