Translator: Beatriz dos Santos Morimoto Reviewer: Denise RQ
Good afternoon.
I invite you to close your eyes.
Close your eyes and think back to the moment that you awoke this morning.
Aside from the possible irritation of your alarm clock
waking you from a restless sleep,
think of the luxuries that you experienced.
Likely, you awoke on a warm bed,
with you head rested on your favorite pillow.
For many of you, someone you love sleeps beside you.
After a warm shower, you selected your outfit for the day,
and with eager anticipation, you look forward to a day at TEDx,
a day to expand our thinking and nourish our minds.
Now, keeping your eyes closed,
pretend for just one moment,
that this morning was drastically different.
Due to a dire twist of fate, you no longer experience the same luxuries.
You awoke homeless.
No warm bed, no food, no shelter,
no closet full of clothing, no latte,
and no loved one at your side.
How would you feel?
If you lost everything you have today,
what would you miss the most?
Please, go ahead and open your eyes.
Over the next 12 minutes, I hope to change your perception of homelessness,
by sharing with you a journey
that I have been on with my students for the past six years.
Our journey began in 2009.
My students and I wanted to make a positive difference in the community
and so we decided we'd give food and clothing to the homeless.
Just days before our trip,
the Vancouver Province ran an article
listing all of the services already offered to the homeless community.
Recognizing that our handouts may not be necessary,
we decided to cancel our trip.
The disappointment that we felt became the catalysis for something new.
We recognized that when we give to others,
we were happier.
And so, our question emerged.
Do the homeless ever have the chance to give to others?
Our idea was born.
Rather than handing out basic necessities,
we decided to create blank handmade greeting cards,
and invite the homeless to give them away during the holiday season.
We hoped they would take our cards
and give them to their friends on the street,
and we prayed that maybe one person would reach out to us
and ask for help reconnecting with a friend or family member
they had lost touch with.
With guarded optimism, we began what we called Project HELLO:
Helping Everyone Locate Loved Ones.
On a cold afternoon, in late November, we headed to the streets.
And this is the first lady we met.
A lady named Sandra,
who has spent 20 years in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside.
After a moment of thought, she accepted our invitation,
and she wrote a beautiful card to her daughter Samantha,
a daughter she had not seen or heard from in over a decade.
"Dear Samantha and Kids:
I love you, I miss you, I hope to see you soon.
Love, Mom."
In the particular afternoon, seven people accepted our invitation.
With hope, we headed back to the school,
and we began to search phone directories and social media,
in search of lost families.
And just one day in, after a series of wrong numbers,
we found Sandra's daughter Samantha, living in Alberta.
Samantha was overjoyed to learn that her mom was still alive.
Knowing that the two women wanted to meet,
but did not have the resources to do so,
our students began to fundraise.
On Mother's Day of 2010, we surprised the women with an all-expense paid trip.
Here they are together at the Vancouver Airport.
And this is my friend Urban.
My students and I met Urban
when we were working at a temporary homeless shelter,
opened only for the winter months.
The day we met Urban he told us that it was his mom's birthday.
I asked if he had spoken to her,
thinking perhaps he could use my phone to call.
With a smile, he let us know that his mom had long since past,
but he talks to her every day.
He let us know he's also lost two sisters.
Urban turned his chair towards my students and I,
and he took us back to an evening when he was seven years old.
He awoke to find his house on fire.
He was able to wake one sister,
and he tried to get through the flames to save the other two.
He recalls the moment he stood outside his house,
and he saw his mom emerge from the home, burned, yet empty-handed.
In that moment, Urban lost two sisters,
and he gained a lifetime of grief he would not overcome.
As I drove home that night, I cried.
I cried because I recognized for the first time
that homelessness is not just about a lack of housing.
It's about trauma,
it's about emotional pain and broken connections.
Six months later, when I returned to the shelter,
as it was closing down,
I gave Urban a lottery ticket,
and I told him that I hoped his luck would change.
He reached to his pocket, and he told me he had a gift for me too.
And he pulled out this rock.
He explained to me that before the shelter had opened,
he was living under a bridge.
Some middle school students had come by
and with it, they had given him cookies,
and with the cookies they gave him this rock,
and they ask him to keep it in his pocket, as a reminder that the community cares.
He took the lottery ticket in its place, and he gave me the rock.
And he asked me to remember that he cares too.
As our project gained momentum,
more and more people on the streets began to open up and tell us their stories.
We recognized that project HELLO
needed to be so much more than a one-day field trip.
And so, it evolved to a year-round initiative
focused on connections at Christmas and Mother's Day.
By the spring of 2015, our students have successfully reconnected
just over 500 people from the Downtown Eastside,
through greeting cards, phone calls, and face-to-face reunion.
This project has changed my life and the lives of our students.
Keith, a Grade 10 student writes,
" I went to the Downtown Eastside to give, expecting to give,
but instead, I received more than I could have ever imagined."
And yet, by the summer of 2013,
I realized we needed to go deeper.
The five-minute conversations we were having on the street
were only scratching the surface of untold stories.
I decided to go beyond HELLO.
And I made the personal commitment
to take a homeless person to lunch each month,
and invite them to share their story over a warm meal.
The stories I have heard have taught me that homelessness could happen to anyone.
I have heard stories of hardship and abuse,
so dreadful I would not wish them upon an enemy.
And yet, despite this hardship, the stories I have heard
demonstrate that the people on the streets have courage,
resilience, compassion, and dreams of a brighter future.
This is Cynthia.
Despite overcoming her addiction,
she chooses to stay in the Downtown Eastside
to help other people.
Her dream is to, one day, open her own flower shop.
And this is Stacy.
After two tours of duty in Afghanistan,
he returns to Canada suffering from post-traumatic stress.
Despite the fact that he wakes up in Vancouver's alleyways,
it's nothing compared to the hell he endured in war.
This is Ron Wilson.
A professional boxer who traveled the world competing.
These days, he sits on a bench at Pigeon Square.
But on this particular afternoon, he was a pro-athlete again,
teaching my own sons, Jaiden and Cole, how to box.
And this is Cindy.
Thirty years ago, she gave up her baby for adoption
to escape from an abusive relationship.
She now suffers from HIV, hepatitis, and heroine addiction.
Her biggest regret is not meeting her daughter.
A few days later, after a series of miracles,
we were able to find her daughter Paige living in Ontario.
I returned to the streets to share the news with Cindy.
I let her know that Paige, growing up across the country,
had uncanny similarities.
Paige too had struggled with addiction.
But she found solace in this book
"In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts" written by Dr Gabor Maté.
She credits her own recovery to a particular character in the book,
a woman named Celia.
So much so, that she wrote to Dr Gabor Maté to thank him.
Knowing that her mom is from the same community,
she asked if I'd read the book, and I said that I would.
When I returned to the streets,
I sat with Cindy, and I asked her if by chance,
she had ever heard of Dr Gabor Maté.
She looked up at me, through her addicted state and said,
"'In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts?'
He is my doctor.
In the book, my name is Celia."
Without even knowing it,
Cindy had already changed her daughter's life.
Here we sit together
and she finds the courage to phone and say hello for the first time.
And shortly after, she found the strength to enter rehab
so that she could be sober
to meet her daughter for the very first time.
(Applause)
Thank you.
Cindy has taught me that miracles happen.
She inspires me to go beyond HELLO,
and she has taught that everyone of us has a story worth hearing.
This July, to prepare for this talk,
I went back to the streets, and I asked one question:
"What do you wish the rest of the world knew about you?"
This is Rob.
He makes a living selling goods on Hastings Street,
but he wants you to know,
"I only take what people throw away."
And this is Les,
"I used to jump from airplanes with the Canadian Army."
And here is Cindy.
Two years after our initial meeting, we met for lunch.
Looking healthy, happy, and still in contact with her daughter,
I asked her the same question.
And this is what she wanted you to know,
"I am not the monster people think I am,
but I fight the demons that try to make me a monster."
I am not a researcher,
but I have spent the last six years having hundreds of conversations
with the homeless in Canada's poorest neighborhood.
The themes that emerge include trauma, emotional pain, and broken connections.
When we began to repair relationships and connect as people,
only then, will we overcome the pain of the streets
and rekindle the human spirit.
I began by asking you:
if you lost everything you have today, what would you miss the most?
For me, more than food or shelter,
I would miss the loved ones
that make my life worth living.
Next time you see someone who has lost their connection with society,
I invite you to go beyond HELLO;
look in their eyes, and see their untold story.
Treat the homeless like a neighbor you have yet to meet,
or a child whose spark has yet to ignite.
Engage with curiosity rather than judgment.
The people on the streets may be hungry,
but they are hungry for so much more than food.
They are hungry for love,
they are hungry for hope,
and they are hungry for human connection.
Please, join my students and I and go beyond HELLO.
Together, let's change the perception of homelessness.
Thank you.
(Applause)