Until I left for college, my family had a December tradition: a day trip to New York City. We would visit the tree at Rockefeller Center, stop inside St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and marvel at the holiday windows at Macy’s.

Those trips were also the only times I saw people experiencing homelessness. At the time, I’m ashamed to admit, my reaction was often, “Why don’t they just get a job?” Growing up in a privileged household, I had no real understanding of how poverty traps people in cycles where survival itself is a constant struggle.

After college, I began volunteering at a homeless shelter outside Washington, D.C., and my perspective changed. I met David, once a chef at a fine-dining restaurant. When the restaurant abruptly closed due to the manager’s embezzlement, David lost his job. Although he quickly found another, the gap between his missing final paycheck and the delayed first paycheck at his new job meant he couldn’t pay rent. With no savings, he was evicted, his belongings left on the street, and he turned to the shelter to save enough for a new place. Within three months, he got back on his feet and thrived again.

Then there was Diane. She stepped away from work to care for her gravely ill mother—the same woman who had sacrificed so much to give Diane a chance to break free from generational poverty. But after several months, Diane’s employer could no longer hold her position. Her mother passed away soon after, leaving Diane burdened by medical bills and funeral costs. With no safety net, she came to the shelter while grieving and searching for stability.

And Cara. She lived with a mental health condition. At times she stopped taking her medication, which made communication difficult. But when she did take it, she was radiant—warm, witty, and wise beyond her years. Her stories were captivating, and I feel grateful to have known her. I still wonder where she might be now.

These experiences shattered the assumptions I had carried since childhood. I came to see that many people are just one paycheck away from crisis—not because of laziness or crime, but because life dealt them circumstances no one could reasonably plan for.

I share these stories now because I’ve been grappling with anger over recent statements suggesting that mentally ill homeless people should be put to death. Such words reveal how deeply homelessness is misunderstood, how damaging assumptions persist, and how stigma continues to dehumanize. For those of us who know better, it’s on us to change the narrative—to challenge stereotypes, dismantle harmful beliefs, and replace them with truth and compassion.