Unique, Beautiful, and Different: the Stories and Faces of Homelessness

Everyone is unique, beautiful, and different! It is imperative to remember that each and every person experiencing homelessness does not fit into a stereotype. The only thing that unites them all is, they are without a place to call home. 

It is unfair and unjust to lump everyone into one or two boxes, as there’s so much diversity and beauty.

It is also unfair and unjust to see certain people as exceptions. It is unfair to claim certain people are “not like those other homeless folks”, creating a picture of there are those deemed worthy in a pool of unworthiness. All are worthy of our love, respect, and dignity.

The diversity of people I have the honour of connecting with most days comes with a remarkable range of ages, genders, ethnicities, races, and skills. Everyone has a unique personality and it’s beautiful, seen in each person’s individual mental health, spirituality, physical differences, addictions, cognitive abilities, and health issues. Everyone’s whānau (family) has its own unique tale to tell. We all have our own histories, with our own complex array of anxieties, trauma, guilt, challenges, victories, dreams, and aspirations.


I write this to highlight how eclectic homelessness is. Not everyone has been in prison, but some have! Not everyone drinks alcohol, I know many who never touch it. Not everyone is unemployed or a beneficiary, many are working. Not everyone is schizophrenic, but some are. Not everyone is in gangs, some are, but most aren’t. 

The faces and stories of homelessness are a fragile 8-year-old girl whose mother had to escape an abusive relationship to protect her children, a traumatised 18-year-old youth kicked out by his whānau for being gay, a confident 28-year-old woman working in a call-centre, a proud 38-year-old single father raising his 2 young children, a hopeful 48-year-old with a complicated history of incarceration and addiction, a spiritual 58-year-old trans woman who faithfully volunteers, an anxious 68-year-old veteran who struggles with his PTSD, a bullied 78-year-old man who worked all his life, and a sick 88-year-old woman who is trying to manage her diabetes.

Recently, right here in Waitākere, in a brief period, I came across 5 men, each and every one of them unique and different, beautiful and precious in the sight of God. (NB: To protect their privacy, I'm not using their actual names)

  • Terry sat on the ground wrapped in a blanket smiling away. This soft-spoken man is schizophrenic and currently without an income. The walls of a room and any shoes on his feet scare him, they make him feel caged in, so he usually walks the streets in socks. Yet, despite rough sleeping and these phobias, he's optimistic, joyful and friendly every time I've met him.
  • Asa sat on the ground with a sign asking for loose change. He’s a very confident and boisterous fella who's happy to reveal everything he's doing and done. Even though his criminal history is long and rough, violent and intense, he has this compelling spirit that draws people to him. He's a fighter, mainly because he's a protector of the weak, a provider of the needy, a father figure, and has dreams of helping those in trouble. 
  • Paul is a very polite neatly dressed gay man. He's a shy and unassuming chap who loves to quietly wander around in crowded open spaces, I believe he does this to help distract himself from his overactive mind that the quiet causes. His anxiety disorder and OCD prevent him from working, he ruminates on things that most people would perceive as insignificant, and he's a meticulous keeper of rules.
  • Sione is willing to get up early and work hard, he's been doing it for years as a butcher or a road construction worker. A tragedy surprised him, trauma happened, and the death of a loved one rocked his world, and on top of that, he was exploited by his boss when he was seeking help and needed to deal with his stress and well-being. Sione would be labelled as a working "hidden homeless" fella, as most folk would pass him and never know the turmoil he's in. 
  • Hoani is elderly and many consider him a Kaitiaki (a guardian). He takes pride in this title, as he watches out for and looks after the weak and vulnerable. He does this, even though his failing heart and lungs have caused him recently to have some serious stints in the hospital. He is someone who’s lived in his van and wants to stay in his hood. His desire is to be around his people, his community, those he watches out for and those who watch over him. 
Sadly, since I started this writing, Hoani tragically passed away. This beautiful Kaitiaki died protecting a friend, someone he’d been helping, someone vulnerable and in need. He could have ignored her but he took her into his care. On that fateful day, he could have let these 2 women fight, he could have ignored it, he could have claimed he was too sick, but that wasn’t the Aroha (love) and Wairua (spirit) of this faithful Kaitiaki. He stepped in to bring peace, but sadly, his weakened and fragile body succumbed to the hits he took. Rest in Peace e hoa. Rest in Power Kaitiaki. 

I hope I've honoured each person I've spoken of here. My intention is to illustrate how each person is uniquely different. My intention is not to create division, but to foster compassion. My intention is not to make people look at those experiencing homelessness with disgust, as bums, as worthless. My intention is simple, it is to help us to see everybody as God's children, made in His image, and reflecting His glory, and because of this, everyone, no matter where they lay their weary heads, is worthy of our time, compassion, and love. 

I want to end with some links to some wonderful people I've had the honour of meeting over the years. Each and everyone is not a label, but a unique person, reflecting God's image...

  • This link remembers a few people who recently passed away. Some, like Beverley, like Johnny, like Carol, caused a lot of chaos, but I cannot express how much they blessed me with their love and faith: The God of Outcasts 
  • Walter was a loner and seemed to despise us all, but he found a family with us at CCO: My Grumpy Old Friend
  • Kenny was a Vietnam veteran, who struggled to keep a place or his temper, due to his PTSD: Remembering Kenny
  • Frenchie was a quiet beautiful gentle soul who never wanted to be an inconvenience, but we helped him get off the streets: Long Lost Frenchie!
  • Shawn is one of the wildest and loudest fellas I've ever met, with a laugh that could be heard blocks away, but man, his love was strong and his faith was real: Crazy, Not Stupid! 
  • Dan is another Vietnam veteran who loved to read and I had the privilege of knowing and helping: Remembering an Uptown Gem 
  • Humberto was a tiny elderly Guatemalan man I used to play dominoes with. We had this connection even though I couldn't speak Spanish. He was in his late 80s, had a huge painful hernia, yet never stopped wanting to work: Positive Until the End! RIP Amigo... 
  • Frank was also a Vietnam veteran. He wore military garb every day, spoke of the horrors of the war he fought in, and he felt they should never have gone over there. He was riddled with paranoia and delusions, but he was kind, generous, and full of faith: Sarge 
  • This link from 2013 remembers a few people: Nick couldn't read or write and Walter was murdered for selling cigarettes. Papa G had his blankets set on fire as he slept, loved his gin, and thought he was a gangster. He sadly got cancer, but it was beautiful to walk alongside him and see him reunite with his family before he passed away: Wretched to the World: Blessed by the King!




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