PROLOGUE
Like a litter of puppies, I was born as one of many. And yes, the ‘litter’ pun is intentional; given my inevitable fate as a newspaper, why not layer some dark humor into my internal monologue. Like the hundreds of identical papers born at my side under the fluorescent light of the StreetBeat Daily newsroom, I am destined for the gutters of Imagineville, New York (a popular college town just outside of the city). But, unlike my A-list competitors at the New York Times and Wall Street Journal, I was created to serve the underrepresented voices of my community — a mission that I’m hoping outlives the recycling bin.
While street papers may be a foreign or unknown concept to some, our presence within urban communities is felt all around the world. Street papers are local, nonprofit, organizations that produce digital and printed media content — such as newspapers and literary magazines — to support those experiencing financial and housing insecurity in their community. Organizations hire vendors seeking financial support and give them their latest edition to sell and then profit from, allowing local individuals to generate some much-needed income. Thus — before my likely demise as campus tumbleweed — I hope to serve as both a means for profit and thought-provoking literature, living forever within the minds of this community.
My pages are multifaceted — each fold features a different news story, personal narrative, interview, and opinion. On page three, Sharlene — a 58 year-old woman from the city — shared her journey with housing insecurity. Although she never completed high school, she taught herself the ‘ins and outs’ of writing as a craft, and now uses her narrative to battle underlying issues within the foster care system and help those suffering from domestic abuse. On page four, Dean — a recovering alcoholic and former StreetBeat Daily vendor — reviews Imagineville’s various rehabilitation programs and works to destigmatize mental health in male patients. Volunteer opportunities and public events are sprinkled throughout my various sections, bookending income-inequality content and the challenges of housing insecurity with Imagineville’s community-service success stories. These are the voices written into my DNA, serving as a vessel for lives and lessons I have not lived. Though I’ll never know what it means to be swept off the curb like Cathy on page six, her story lives within me and the mind of the stranger who shares a moment with my vendor on the street. Of course, asking a stranger to see us, let alone acknowledge my vendor long enough to purchase a paper, is a challenge in its own right.
CHAPTER ONE
Half an hour ago, Daniel, my vendor, picked me up from the StreetBeat Daily newsroom. He spoke briefly with the Editor in Chief, Carol (the woman responsible for my existence), about her editorial feature on my opening pages. Before I was organized into perfectly neat columns of information, my content was displayed on colorful sticky notes decorating the conference table in front of Carol’s workspace. Some editors have moved into the digital era, but Carol seems to think handwritten work and tangible visuals are an irreplaceable conduit for creativity in the storyboarding process. This month, Carol chose to highlight stories that challenged pre-existing narratives about homelessness. One sticky note in particular was dedicated to admirable research on the topic.
Talking About Poverty: Narratives, Counter-Narratives, and Telling Effective Stories, by Andrew Volmert and Theresa L. Miller, garnered some of Carol’s attention as an academic and advocate for the cause — particularly, their discussion about the “individual drive narrative.” For my feature piece, Carol chose to publish an op-ed quoting Miller and Volmert’s definition of the infamous media arch.
“The most dominant narrative about poverty in the United States centers on individual willpower and drive. This narrative portrays individuals’ life outcomes as the direct and exclusive result of their choices and effort. According to this narrative, with enough hard work, anyone can and will succeed. In this narrative, individuals are in control of how well they do and thus responsible for their lot in life. People living in poverty are poor because of their own “bad” choices, lack of work ethic, and deficient values. They are blamed for their own situations and held responsible for getting themselves out of poverty.”
Miller & Volmert
According to the ‘bootstraps’ variant of the narrative, it is up to individuals to metaphorically “pull themselves up by their own bootstraps” to get out of poverty. Carol acknowledges that although StreetBeat provides vendors with an opportunity to earn income independently, they do not support the sentiment that homeless individuals can claw their way out of poverty through motivation and grit alone.
She writes…
Whether to gain political standing or public favor, the media has promoted this tale through decades of curated framing and subjective journalism. Not only is this harmful to housed-people’s perception of homeless individuals across the nation, but such narratives negatively affect the mental health of homeless individuals and further divide the community’s economic classes.
I proudly display Carol’s powerful words on my beginning pages. As the leader of a non-profit organization that supports low-income and houseless members of our community, I know Carol labors over every statement and message she chooses to publish. Given the ignorant treatment vendors already face, the StreetBeat Daily is working hard to negate the media archetypes of homelessness in the community — debunking the public’s opinion of housing insecurity.
CHAPTER TWO
As the hours pass, I bear witness to the result of these stigmatized narratives. Daniel is centered on the corner of Green Street and Fuller Ave. — one of the most trafficked crossroads on campus. I’m filled with dread as he waves my cover page before the students and city residents in passing. A girl, no more than 22 years old, declines Dan’s sales pitch, claiming to not have cash on hand. She doesn’t linger to hear the Venmo and Cash App options for alternative payments — the main form of compensation in her generation. A couple of middle-aged men mumble the age-old phrases ‘get a job’ and ‘that’s where our taxes go’ in Dan’s general direction. But, more often than not, the masses of people who walk by treat Daniel like a ghost — an invisible person maintaining no more presence than whispering in the wind. I know I was born yesterday and all, but I always thought humans had a moral obligation to one another. As one of the most complex creatures on the planet, capable of language, communication, and organized thinking, it’s paradoxical to watch how easily they ignore one another’s suffering. Although, I suppose that’s how economic disparity and homelessness were able to take form. The incentive to avoid others’ pain grew stronger than the code of ethics existing between one person to another.
Not only does Dan live his life publicly — without the privilege of privacy and personal moments — he’s also subjected to this disrespect and maltreatment on a daily basis. His work as a vendor and life as a housing insecure person is truly exhausting, mentally and physically.
CHAPTER THREE
By the time my pages are properly crumpled from Dan’s fistful grip, a young man, around 20 years old, stops to buy a paper. After some polite conversation and a quick elevator pitch advertising StreetBeat’s volunteer opportunities, I’m handed over to Oscar following a monetary transaction on Venmo — like I said before, a twenty-something’s primary medium as it pertains to business dealings. I’m sad to leave Dan but happy that his long day of peddling is finally looking up. Though, I am surprised to be in the hands of someone born in the 2000s. The story on page eight suggests that Gen Zs are physically incapable of reading anything that isn’t provided in digital format.
Before I have the chance to explore campus, I’m shoved into the abyss that is a male undergrad’s backpack, and whisked away to a far off land: apartment 32B. I must have spent at least four hours folded against an outdated syllabus and a half-eaten protein bar before Oscar remembered I existed.
I don’t know what I expected from Oscar. Perhaps a thoughtful reading of each narrative and interview, with annotations in margins? The fantastical element of those dreams disintegrate as he rapidly flips from page to page. Oscar skims the headlines of each section landing on the last column of the edition. I suppose I should be grateful for the hastily captured iphone photographs of Imagineville’s upcoming service events — otherwise known as Oscar’s resume-boosting motivation for purchasing a StreetBeat paper today. But, I’m saddened with the knowledge that he will never know Sharlene, Dean, and Cathy like I do. I can only hope that one of the other prints, identical to me, got to share these authors’ stories this evening.
As Oscar flips back to the cover page, his eyes hover over Carol’s op-ed. Maybe he’s one of her students. Carol’s work as Editor and Chief for the StreetBeat Daily is more accurately described as a side gig to her teaching job at the university. Regardless, something about her work compels Oscar to keep reading. He was fast to work through the pages and certainly not appreciative of the literary experience that is me, but I can rest easy knowing that these voices that are not mine and lessons I did not live will outlast my biodegradable destiny.
EPILOGUE
My litter-fated prediction was, in fact, based in truth. To Oscar’s credit, I was intended for the recycling bin, but somehow fell to the wayside when the men in yellow jackets poured my cardboard bin-mates into the back of their truck. With the power of aggressive east-coast wind, I traveled to the public park down the street where a community service event was held. To my surprise, I saw Carol, Dan, and Oscar gathered around a rickety picnic table serving hotdogs and Lays chips to the incoming guests. Regardless of Oscar’s intentions for originally purchasing a StreetBeat paper, my authors, editors, and vendors made today a reality — even if I am a campus version of tumbleweed.
Works Cited
“About Us.” The International Network of Street Papers, www.insp.ngo/. Accessed 14 Oct. 2022.
Horvath, Mark. “Austin Homeless Man Says He’s Not Living, Just Existing.” Invisible People, 6 Apr. 2022, invisiblepeople.tv/videos/homeless-man-austin/. Accessed 9 Sept. 2022.
—. “Disabled Man Arrested for Being Homeless in Las Vegas – Twice.” Invisible People, 19 Jan. 2022, invisiblepeople.tv/videos/homeless-man-arrested-las-vegas/. Accessed 9 Sept. 2022.
—. “Homeless Woman Sleeps Next to the Street to Avoid Arrest.” Invisible People, 18 July 2022, invisiblepeople.tv/videos/nicole-homeless-hollywood/. Accessed 9 Sept. 2022.
Miller, Theresa, and Andrew Volmert. “Cover Title in Title Case: This Is a Cover Without an Image Talking About Poverty: Narratives, Counter-Narratives, and Telling Effective Stories.” Frame Works, Sept. 2021, www.frameworksinstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Talking-about-poverty.pdf. Accessed 14 Oct. 2022.
Scarry, Elaine. “The Difficulty of Imagining Other Persons.” Philosophy of Coexistence.
