It was a hot August afternoon. My coworkers and I were walking down Main Street in Flushing, heading towards the annual end-of-summer banquet held by the prep school for which we worked. Out of nowhere, a woman stops us and asks for help. We’re not sure what she needs, so we stand to the side so we can hear better. She asked us for help finding a job, and said she had been living in a shelter with her two children. We had no clue what to say or do except apologize and continue on our way. After all, we had barely graduated high school and were lucky to have jobs ourselves, with nowhere near enough experience or connections to help a homeless woman find a job that would pay her a living wage. We had no clue why she approached us specifically, but my friend Amy thought that it may have been because we were wearing semi-formal clothes for the event, which may have led the woman to think that we had connections to white-collar office workers.

Almost two years later, I still rarely get through my day without seeing at least one homeless person. When I get back to my dorm late, I always see the usual group of people sleeping in the 23rd Street station on the 6 train. Even when I return to Flushing on the weekends, the same people I have seen for weeks or even months are sitting at their usual places on the side streets. I am fortunate enough to never have been homeless, and I don’t think anyone in my immediate family has gone through that experience either. However, I know that one life- changing event can be all it takes to push families over the edge. Though much has been done to combat homelessness in the city, it is still a major problem and, unfortunately, probably will be for the foreseeable future.