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Today’s guest post was written by Gary Alloway. Gary is a graduate of Penn State and Princeton Theological Seminary. He is also a part time pastor at The Well. Hassling Gary is a hobby for Brian and I (more so for me, Brian might just be along for the ride) - at the moment, my favorite thing to hassle him is whether he is Gen X or Gen Y and his preference for Bright Eyes.
This is the first of two posts by Gary about suburban poverty. I hope it makes you a little uncomfortable and I hope it makes you want to change something.
When most people think of poverty in America, they think urban or rural. Yet more than half of those in poverty in America live in suburbia. Bucks County (where I live) is one of the wealthiest counties in Pennsylvania, yet 5% of the county lives below the poverty line. While the problems of suburban poverty often mirror those of the city, the defining characteristic of suburban poverty is disconnection.
In suburbia, communities do not function as integrated units. We do not know the neighbors. We rarely walk anywhere in the community. We do not know who owns the stores in which we shop. Public places, such as parks, community centers, or local cafes, almost never serve as meeting points. As a result, all of our relational encounters are voluntary. And birds of a feather flock together. To the middle class, the poor become invisible. We do not see them, hear them, or know them. Most people in suburbia are ignorant of the poverty in their own backyard. It is common for churches and other community organizations to seek to help the poor, driving past the budget motel and the low-end apartment complex on their way to the inner-city.
Because we are disconnected from those in poverty, we do not build communities that accommodate the poor. Low-income housing is neglected in favor of faceless high-end housing that will increase the tax base (as though someone who buys a characterless house on a characterless street in a characterless town will have a great investment in the community). The poor are forced to scrape for housing they cannot afford. Budgets become fragile, making homelessness a real threat. Those who can afford housing often do so by working hours that disconnect them from their families.
When low-income housing is built, it is usually tucked away behind the strip mall or next to the railroad tracks or off the highway; places we drive by at 75 mph and hence, never see. The end result is very small ghettos – pockets of poverty that mirror the worst inner-city neighborhoods, but due to their size and location, are invisible. It is hard to overlook the 25 square miles of poverty in North Philadelphia (though we do our best). It is very easy to overlook the apartment complex. We do not know the poor, so we do build communities that accommodate the poor and their isolation is furthered. Disconnection breeds disconnection.
This disconnection is difficult to overcome because suburbia presumes the automobile. Without a car in suburbia, you are screwed. I work with single parents trying to overcome poverty in Bucks County. Imagine trying to coordinate day care, a job, school, and visits to your case manager when you live in a town where the bus comes once an hour to a stop that is half a mile away. Imagine getting to the grocery store and back. The middle class do not ride public transportation so they do not invest in it. And the bus becomes the ghetto, a small convoy of the poor, disconnected from their community.
Even the most motivated person has trouble overcoming suburban poverty. I used to work at a homeless shelter in downtown Denver and within a ten-minute walk, one could reach the free clinic, the day shelter, the food bank, the social security office, and hundreds of jobs. But while I was there, gentrification was dispersing poverty, pushing the poor into the outer rings of the city and into suburbia. Bucks County has many social programs to help the poor, from welfare to job training programs. But they are disconnected. The locations are disconnected. The organizations are disconnected. Those who take advantage of them will find themselves trying to put together a puzzle of pieces that don’t create a clear picture.
Urban ghettos can be places of immense oppression, where the depth of suffering is palpable. But urban ghettos can also be places where tragedy binds residents together in vibrant community. The suburban poor are more likely to find themselves alone – isolated from communities where prosperity is the norm – a silent anhedonic suffering. Physically, socially, and spiritually, suburban poverty is an experience of disconnection.
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