Capturing Communities in Words and Images:

Author: Diana Cabral

Wednesday Night Dinner on 1.14.09

I was back at the shelter serving dinner today and asked about Charlene. She was not in the dining room so I asked Carmela where she was. Carmela told me that she is now in another shelter where she has her own private room. She did not know exactly where the shelter is in the City. I made a mental note to ask one of the Sisters about this when I go there next week to show them this project.

I spoke to Ruth briefly while she was leaving to go to her room. She was smiling and told me she is doing well. I did not ask her how her volunteering is going at Metro Baptist Church, across the street from the shelter – another mental note.

And Dorca came over to me to say hello. She look good and was as talkative as always. I told her that a friend of mine really liked her self-portrait drawing in the gallery. I told her that my friend told me to tell her to continue drawing. Dorca like the comment and said she will think about it. We made a point to speak to each other in the next few weeks. She wants to write more about herself and her life.

We served around 38 women on this very cold and bitter night. Barbara, a volunteer there on this night said that it might be the weather which kept more of the women from coming out for dinner.

The shelter served chicken breast, mashed potatoes, vegetables and pudding for dessert.

A Place to call Home

I have always been interested in identity and sense of place. Who do people think they are? What is their story? Where does one belong? These are all questions I ask myself as an aspiring journalist. I asked myself these same questions for this project – “Capturing Communities in Words and Images.” But there were other questions invariably on my mind: What shapes a community? What keeps a community together? Who belongs? Why do communities form? In trying to illuminate a community these questions need to be asked and answered.

I chose a non-traditional, often misunderstood and marginalized community to document – homeless women in a shelter. In documenting these women I want to give an anonymous population dignity, humanity – a face for others to care. There is a stereotype that exists: the bag lady. She is often dressed in tatters, with multiple plastic bags, picking through garbage collecting empty cans and is often pushing a supermarket cart. We have seen her. We have looked at her. We have ignored her. Yet in my search for this archetype I did not find her. Instead I found: “Dorca,” “Charlene,” “Ruth,” “Sandra” and “Jane” a community of women who shared with me their stories of loss – in not just a place to call home but in identity. To some they are just statistics however, they are real people and they let me into their community.

I discovered women who have often a mental illness but are released from state hospitals anyway without proper follow-up care or medication; many women that because of bad decisions and situations are forced into the streets and married women with jobs and husbands that divorce and then are left in precarious economic situations.

The statistics in the United States on the homeless are sobering, according to the Los Angeles Homeless Coalition 3.5 million people (1.35 million of which are children) will experience homelessness in a given year; 43% of the homeless population are women; 40% of these women are unaccompanied; 1 in every 5 homeless persons has a severe or persistent mental illness and 25% of the homeless nationwide are employed.

Why this community? This is a question I often asked myself, in my quest for an answer I turned to the community itself. Continue reading “A Place to call Home”

Getting Closer to the Dwelling Place

I spent part of my Thanksgiving with the women, staff and volunteers of the Dwelling Place. Being there and sharing this holiday with them gave me a better sense of this community. The women who live at the shelter and those that came for the Thanksgiving dinner all shared their stories with each other and with me.

This community of women that come togther every week respect, care and give each other stength to meet their challenges.

In order to understand their struggle, I decided to focus on a couple of the women. I interviewed “Dorca” last week. She shared with me some of her painful adolescense, drug abuse and her everntual diagnosis with mental illness which led to her being homeles. “Dorca” spent much of the last 15 years going in and out of hospitals while she struggled with her mental illness. There is a lot more of her story that I would like to capture and for this I have asked her to take me to her old neighborhood on the Lower Eastside so that I can take picutres of her visiting where she used to live…

I will be going to the shelter tonight and hope to be able to take picutres. This has been the most challenging part of the proeject. I need to figure out a way to captute this community in images.

Moving towards pictures at The Dwelling Place

I have been to The Dwelling Place three times and have yet to take any pictures of the shelter or the women. However, on my most recent visit to the residence, after I served the women their dinner, I sat at one of the tables to chat with some of them.

This was the single best thing I have done during my time there. Usually, I just stand off to the side after I have finished serving them and watch as the women are eating without interacting with them. This has been an error on my part.

As I sat at the table I began to talk to “Dorca,” she was very talkative and was in good spirits. She began to tell me how lucky she was to have found the nuns and this shelter because she had heard all the bad things that happen in the city run shelters and was afraid to go there.

We ended up talking about a variety of topics such as music, Puerto Rico (she is Puertorican), her family and what she does to stay positive. I knew though, that if I wanted to really know “Dorca” I would need to have a lot more than half an hour with her.

She asked me if I was a volunteer at the shelter. I told her that I was yet also had another purpose. I proceeded to tell her about the Feit Seminar Class and my work so far. She was curious and interested to know more.

I asked her if she would like to meet with me outside of the shelter so that we could have more time to talk. She agreed and we are meeting this coming Wednesday Nov. 26. I am very excited and hope that I can really get to know her story. I will prepare some preliminary questions to ask her in order to get us started with a conversation – though I have every intention to just let the conversation flow and see where it takes us. I will also take some pictures of her and see if she is comfortable with this as well.

Sister Margaret called me yesterday and asked me if I would be willing to volunteer for Thanksgiving Day to help set -up and serve the meal to the ladies. I agreed and hope this will be a good opportunity to take pictures!

On my next posting I hope to post some images! Let’s see….

My First Visit – The Dwelling Place

I arrived at The Dwelling Place not knowing what to expect. As I rang the bell, I felt both anxious and excited as to what I might find.

Barbara answered the door and I was immediately greeted by the smell of cooking pork chops wafting through the air. It is a few days before Halloween and the shelter is having a Halloween celebration for the women. Barbara shows me where to hang my coat and tells me that Sister Margaret is upstairs with some of the women – she will be down shortly.

I am escorted upstairs to the second floor  dining area. Barbara goes into the kitchen and tells me to sit down and wait for Sister Margaret. The tables are all set with blue, white and yellow placemats. There are potted flowers on each of the tables. Soon the bell is ringing. Up the stairs enter what I believe are volunteers for the evening. Meanwhile, I meet Carmela – a staff member of the shelter who is busy putting plastic containers of milk on each of the tables. I then meet Cheryl and Herman who have come up the stairs. Cheryl tells Barbara that she has brought ice cream for the women and hurriedly goes to fetch it. There is another ring at the door – I later find out it is Jimmy, the entertainment for the evening. I am busy taking notes on all the happenings going on. I look up to see Cheryl placing small plastic bags by each of the placemats. When she is done. I move over to one of the settings to inspect the bags. There are travel size toilitries for the women – small bottles of shampoo, conditioner, mositurizer and a bar of soap. By this time, Barbara has asked me to move, it is almost 5:30 – dinnertime and they are about to serve the food. I go outside to a corner chair by a window. Already sitting there is a woman with long dark hair, a red sweatshirt and jeans. I sit down and introduce myself. Her name is “Carmen,” she looks like she is in her early 40’s.

I think to myself how to talk to her. I am still busy writing in my notebook – she looks at me taking notes. Suddenly she stands up and says to me that she is going upstairs – dinner won’t be ready until 5:30pm. I have missed an opportunity to engage one of the women. I sit alone, staring outside the window at the trail of NJ Buses going up a ramp into the highway headed to Jersey. The bell rings again and I look down to find a cluster of women waiting outside to be let in. By this time, Jimmy has finished setting up his electric keyboard and speakers in the dining room and is testing the microphone.

Dinner has been served and Barbara has gone down to let the women in. Sister Margaret has come down from the third floor and greets me. She sits down, I give her my letter and proposal. She reads it and smiles. Soon she takes my hand in hers and ushers me into the kitchen to announce that I am the newest volunteer and I meet Sister Nancy, the other Franciscan nun who runs the shelter.

Jimmy has started to sing “I just called to say I love you.” Soon there is dancing, cheering and clapping. It is a joyful atmosphere. For one evening at least, these women are enjoying themselves.

The Dwelling Place

Becoming homeless takes away something very profound in one’s life. One is not just suddenly without a home (a bricks and mortar kind) one is also without a sense of place internally and suddenly anonymous to society. I have never known this kind of displacement. I would like to understand it, document it and give those who have become marginalized a voice in order to bring about their humanity.

For my final project I will document a private transitional residence for homeless women on the Upper Westside of Manhattan called The Dwelling Place of NY. The Dwelling Place of NY is a community of homeless women, volunteers and Franciscan Sisters that have created a place of dignity, respect and love.

In order to fully understand this community I will become a part of it. I will volunteer with The Dwelling Place in the hopes of understanding a piece of these women’s plight. I hope to also come to understand the volunteers who give of their time and the Franciscan Sisters that have devoted their lives to these women.

Because our class chronicles communities not just in words but with images as well, I will need to gain the trust of not just the homeless women, so that they can trust me enough to take their pictures but also those who have dedicated their time to make The Dwelling Place a safe haven – the Franciscan Sisters and the volunteers.

My field notes for this assignment take on a very important role because I have been told by one of the Sisters that I cannot bring my camera to my first visit to the shelter. Therefore I will need to not only write everything I see but also record the atmosphere as well as the sights and sounds of this community.

I will regularly post on our blog some notes chronicling my experience at The Dwelling Place to give a fuller and ongoing picture to my project.

Portraits of Main Street, Flushing

The streets of Main Street, Flushing on an unseasonably warm Fall day, these are the faces of a neighborhood.

The morning paper handed to you as you rush through the crowds on your way down the escalators into the iron rooster that is the number 7 train.

Andy, the realtor – Has been in Flushing since coming from China in 1989. “First it was the Koreans, then came the Chinese and now we have the Indians and Pakistani, I have seen all the changes that have come to settle on Main Street”

Tang, the seeker – Sits down waiting for the “Luck Doctor” to prescribe what year will be lucky for her daughter to marry her boyfriend. “You give him the month and year of your birth and the rest is up to the “doctor” and his pencil to tell you what year will be lucky for you – to love, to marry and get money.”

He swirls amid the crowds pushing into your hands a flyer for a cell phone company right down in the heart of Main Street. He utters not a sound and his determined and calm gaze is all that lingers.

The shy Muslim girl outside of Kabul Kabab Restaurant did not want her picture taken but in an instant click click and it was done.

Yang, the vendor – Came to New York from China six years ago. Sells newspapers, caps, phone cards and lotto tickets from his small vending square. He speaks little English but was more than eager to have his picture taken. He smiled at me as I asked permission and then retreated into his space.

Haries, the student – I saw him walking down Main Street and Maple dressed in a kurta and knew I had to take his picture; he reminded me of my trip to India. It turned out he is from from Lahore, Pakistan and is a 32 year old Queens College student studying to be a lawyer. On the side he has a construction business in NJ in which he flips houses for a profit.