One of the most consistently irritating, frustrating, and ultimately misguided notions, where the concept of “the homeless” is concerned, is the attitude that the homeless are, first and foremost, victims — that they are all members of an underclass we might call the Noble Poor.  Any reasonable human being feels compassion for those who are less fortunate, certainly.  Nobody wishes ill on their fellow humans as a class, not unless he or she is some manner of misanthrope.  Another way to say this is that another man’s prosperity does not take a single dollar from my own wallet.  I neither begrudge him his wealth nor blame him for my own poverty.

A man or woman who is homeless may indeed be a victim of any number of things: circumstance, genetics, bad choices… and the degree to which those factors are the result of  his or her direct actions determines just how “sorry” we should be for that person.  For that matter, even when a man destroys himself by his own hand, we often feel badly for him.  We feel pity.  We feel sympathy.  We feel empathy.

Our natural reaction, when confronted by the sight of a shoeless man begging on the street, or a woman wearing a winter coat and pushing a stolen shopping cart full of cans on a summer day, is to feel compassion.  Often our next reaction, and the source of much of our empathy and even commiseration, is the thought, “There but for the grace of God go I.”

But, in all honesty, is that really true?  Does a random act of chance determine whether I sleep in my car, in a cardboard box on the street, or in a warm bed?  Are each of us really only a paycheck or two away from becoming street people ourselves — panhandlers subsisting on the pity of others?  Certainly the scions of popular culture’s wisdom, the talking heads who tell us what to think through countless media venues, want us to believe that only the flimsiest of barriers separates each of us from personal ruin.  It is they who repeat, with wide-eyed credulity, their breathless aphorisms in this regard. If you and I are, as they assert, only a couple of paychecks away from homelessness ourselves, why, we would be callous, pompous, arrogant fools to believe the homeless were anything but the face of our own potential misfortune.

The reality, however, is that this simply isn’t true.

More than chance, more than fortune, more than random luck, determines whether you are a productive citizen.  Most “normal” people, most productive members of society, spend a considerable portion of every waking day working and worrying about this very eventuality. Striving not to be homeless, to provide the basic needs of life and living, occupies most people’s thoughts every waking moment that is not devoted to some other specific purpose.  Those of us who work, work hard — because we know that our actions separate us from homelessness, from failure.

This is not a sense of superiority over those who fall as far as any living being can… this is a sense of control.  By this I mean that those of us who do not believe we are “a paycheck away from homelessness” have an internal locus of control.  We believe we can act to change our circumstances, that we can do whatever is necessary to make sure we and those for whom we care do not end up begging on the streets. We understand that, barring catastrophic illness, we will never not work.  We will never not act to prevent our being homeless. We will never not fight to keep the wolf from the door.  We also know that our failings, our tragedies, are the results of our own mistakes.  They are our responsibility.

But what of circumstances truly beyond our control… or even the consequences of our own mistakes?  No man or woman is perfect.  We all do the wrong thing, or make the wrong choices.  What happens when this, or external factors we cannot alter, leave us destitute?

In those tragic scenarios, for good or for ill, for right or for wrong, we are not alone.  In a society that offers a very elaborate “safety net” of public services and private charities, there really is no reason that any individual should have to live in the open, on an urban street, with no alternatives — unless they do so by choice or because they literally lack the capacity to conceive of a different way. 

What do I mean?  Most people who are homeless are homeless because there is something very wrong with them.  They may be survivors, but they aren’t copers.  They may adapt to adversity, but they don’t overcome it; they simply have learned how to tread water no matter how deep or tragic the sea.

Whenever we speak of “the homeless” we are of course engaging in some generalizations. It’s a question of proportion, however. There are exceptions; there are people who are homeless quite literally through no fault of their own, and there are people who, while they’ve made bad choices, survive because they are, indeed, survivors at heart. But this is not the rule; this is not the truth.  Most homeless people aren’t nuclear families mistreated by heartless employers or cruel bankers.  Most street people do not have hearts of gold and are not wise beyond their stations. The exceptions prove the rule… no matter what popular entertainment would show you or have you believe.

The Treatment Advocacy Center estimates, in its fact sheet on the homeless, that one third of the 600,000 homeless persons (as estimated by the Department of Health and Human Services) are schizophrenics or manic depressives. Healing Hands, a publication of the HCH Clinicians’ Network, estimates that 38% of homeless adults have mental health problems, while fully 46% of homeless men report alcohol problems (and 30% of them report drug problems).

The Treatment Advocacy Center’s Fact Sheet cites a 1993 study of HIV among homeless men in a New York City shelter, in which 19 percent of those living in the shelter tested positive for the virus that causes AIDS. According to a later study (April, 2002) in the Journal of Clinical Astroenterology (Viral Hepatitis and Other Infectious Diseases in a Homeless Population), “Chronic hepatitis C and co-infections are common among the homeless population.”

Still another study, Ectoparasitism and Vector-Borne Diseases in 930 Homeless People From Marseilles, published in the journal Medicine in January 2005, concludes grimly, “Homeless people are particularly exposed to ectoparasites…Over 4 years, 930 homeless people were enrolled. Lice were found in 22% and were associated with hypereosinophilia… Twenty-seven patients (3%) with scabies were treated… The uncontrolled louse infestation of this population should alert the community to the possibility of severe re-emerging louse-borne infections.”

These statistics obviously support the conclusion that street people are a personal security threat. The homeless endanger you.  You should treat them, not with cruelty, but with extreme caution. Not long ago I spoke on the phone with Becky Blanton, a journalist who spent a great deal of time, voluntarily, living as a “homeless” person to get perspective on this from the inside. Despite the fact that she is definitely sympathetic to the plight of the homeless, she agrees with my position on the personal security aspect of this issue — and said as much in her ebook. She concluded, “Being in need does not make someone living on the streets more safe, and quite often makes them less safe.”

Why, then, do we try so hard to make the homeless noble?  Why do we become, collectively, so very angry whenever anyone dares to point this out? It seems like common sense to me… so why are so many of us willing to denounce the messenger as a stereotyping, hateful hypocrite who lacks compassion? You can have all the compassion in the world and still see reality for what it is.

If I am mentally ill, I am not responsible for my own decisions… and I cannot be trusted to make or take them.  A very large percentage of the homeless population suffers from mental illness.  While we may certainly feel compassion for them, we would be fools to trust them or to ignore the fact that mentally ill people are frequently violent and unpredictable.  This is because they are mentally ill. You don’t hand your car keys to a madman.  You don’t stop to chat with a man who speaks to invisible people.  You don’t invite a schizophrenic into your home and tell him where the kitchen knives are.  This is common sense; one does not place trust in those who cannot be trusted to behave according to rational, commonly accepted guidelines of normal human conduct.  That is why we say they are ill, after all.  And if a man may be carrying contagious diseases, you certainly don’t hug him, no matter how sorry you feel for him. And finally, if he has a substance abuse problem, why, he’s mentally ill for all intents and purposes when he is in the grip of his addiction (or suffering withdrawl from it).

Self-defense, and the ongoing actions we take to ensure our personal security, require a ruthlessly logical acceptance of reality.  If we do not accept what is real, we cannot adequately prepare for it.  Those who might do us harm don’t care what we think about how things ought to be.  Wishful thinking is not a strategy.  By the same token, believing we are not in control of our actions, that the winds of random chance control our fate despite our earnest work to the contrary, is surrendering our will and our abilities — sacrificing them on the altar of popular culture’s collectivist mentality.  Those with an external locus of control believe those who are not homeless have merely won some lottery of life events.

Reality is different.  You are not homeless… because you refuse to be.  Acknowledging this does not make you a bad person, any more than seeing the homeless for the threat they represent makes you a hateful, uncaring, arrogant hypocrite. 

Quite the contrary; understanding these facts simply makes you a realist.

The barking continued unabated for half an hour. The disheveled black man, shambling about in front of a shopping facility downtown, accosted each person who passed him on the street entering or leaving the building. He was wearing one sneaker and carrying the other. Literally barking at the top of his lungs, he sent a barrage of begging at every individual he saw.

He was quite obviously mentally deranged, chemically altered, or both. He was dirty and probably carried any number of diseases. Several people cringed or otherwise backed away when he approached them.

It made me furious.

What right did this scumbag have to bother people in this way, to demand what they have earned simply because he had the gall or the guts or the lack of shame to stick out his grimy paw and shout for it?

I got out of my car. The creature accosted me, his staccato demands for change alternating with his rapid-fire attempts to get my attention. “Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir! Sir!” I simply stood there and stared at him. He did not approach, so I did nothing. At that moment I felt more hatred, more loathing, than I think I have ever felt in my life. He did not know how to react to my complete lack of response, so he stopped shouting at me. Eventually he wandered into downtown traffic, still carrying one sneaker.

The very next day I was again downtown, checking the tire of my car after bumping the curb while parking, when I heard a voice behind me.

“Excuse me, sir? Excuse me, sir?”

I ignored it. There is no one downtown to whom I need to speak on the street. When the query was repeated, this time more loudly and closer, I stood and whirled on the speaker.

He was, predictably, a panhandler, though he looked less obviously insane and was a little less dirty than many. Muttering something about wanting two dollars to buy a bagel at a nearby coffee shop — the surest sign that you are being panhandled dishonestly is when the beggar offers too many specifics about what he is going to do with the money — he was approaching me with his metaphorical hand out.

When I started training in kung fu, we were taught that a potential threat must not be allowed to close within striking distance of you. You must attack the opponent preemptively when he enters this range. When approached by someone whom you do not trust, we are taught, you must put up your hands and maintain a safe distance. As the panhandler approached my first thought was that I must, at any cost, keep him outside that distance — or else I would have to strike him, as I did not want him approaching me.

You see, every panhandler you meet IS a potential threat to your health and your well-being. Under no circumstances whatsoever should you allow a street person to approach you. More importantly, nobody has the right to violate your personal space without your consent. Let me say that again:

Street people do not have the right to approach you.

Something clicked in my head. I was so angry. I thought about the way street people decrease the quality of the lives of every honest man and woman who walks down the sidewalks of my city, harassed and intimidated by beggars who believe the world owes them something for nothing, societal parasites who see nothing wrong with simply asking for what others have earned because they think they have some claim on the labor of others.

I pointed at him, bringing my rear hand up in a subtle approximation of the double Wu Sau guard that is the default hand position in Wing Chun Kung Fu.

“Step away,” I hissed.

Now, I’m not describing this because I think I’m cool or because I think I have the ability to put the Fear of Phil into random strangers. I was simply enraged and I spat at this beggar with a hostility I did not realize I possessed. I reacted instinctively — but my instincts were, in this case, developed by training that simply took over under stress. I was pleased that when I needed it, I did not have to think about it. That is the goal of training to defend yourself for real-life problems.

As I pointed and glared at him, that street creature froze in his tracks. He actually apologized, turned, and scampered off in the other direction as if I’d threatened to kill him. I looked down at my hands, exhaled, and was immediately hit with an attack of the shakes as the adrenaline dump had its way with my nervous system.

I was a little shocked at the vehemence of my reaction — but I was not sorry.

The reality of the homeless, of panhandlers, is that the overwhelming majority of them have mental problems, drug dependencies, or both. Crazy people and people “on something” are the most dangerous of all potential assailants because they are completely unpredictable and not deterred by actions or words that give rational people pause.

How many women must be harassed and made to feel physically threatened simply trying to get from home to work and back again? How many honest citizens must be made to feel somehow guilty for daring to work hard and lead productive lives simply because some grasping, filthy beggar demands a hand-out? How many people must wonder if they will contract lice, tuberculosis, hepatitis, or other communicable diseases when forced to work and walk in close proximity to the vile refuse of humanity? How many commuters must be stabbed with fucking used hypodermic needles before we recognize the danger?

Panhandlers should not be objects of our pity. They are potential threats who must be recognized and avoided.

Their need does not constitute a right to victimize you.

With the koppo’s strap threaded across my middle and ring fingers, I watched the college students and basketball game spectators bustling past. Crowds were heavy in the wake of the recently completed exhibition featuring the Harlem Globetrotters. Parking spaces were sparse and I was grateful to have snagged a prime section of curb. There was plenty of people watching to do; the location hosts a cross-section of urban society, including all races, income levels, and occupations.

My polymer koppo and the unlined “Police” gloves I favor.

One trend developing at that particular location is most unwelcome and quite sobering: an increasing street person presence. The beggars I noticed most recently were sexually harassing female pedestrians. “Hey, gorgeous, you got any spare change?” was the mantra. “Hey, baby. Hey! Baby!”

At The Martialist I’ve written more than one editorial about the dangers of the homeless, of street people, of panhandlers – terms I use interchangeably. These editorials have outraged various bleeding hearts and virtual tough guys, who’ve called my opinions on the matter everything from paranoid and unrealistic to schizophrenic and full of hate.

With rare exceptions, none of these people have any experience with the homeless. A few of them wrongly extrapolate, from their own fortunately peaceful encounters, a distorted and utopian view of reality in which street beggars are merely kind-hearted, down-on-their-luck characters with hearts of gold. Worse than these are the people who’ve actually had encounters with violent street people who blame “the system” and see socialist transfers of wealth as the solution to these societal problems.

Anyone capable of holding these views had not walked the gauntlet endured by countless urban pedestrians every day. Men and women who actually contribute to society, who in many cases are walking to jobs they’d rather not work for less pay than they deserve, must suffer further by dodging the grasping claws and barked demands of harassing, unstable, persistent panhandlers.

Why does this topic make me so angry? I am, after all, a lone, armed white man more than capable of fending off a single panhandler. I am not angry for myself, though. I am angry for every woman who has ever felt disgusted and fearful listening to the catcalls and feeling the gaze of a stinking, too-close beggar looming in her path. I am angry for every peaceful man who has had to wonder if he must use his fists simply to walk through a parking lot or down the street. I am angry for every person who is walking with his or her children, who has a physical disability, or who just doesn’t wish to be yelled at by strangers who want what they have not earned.

No one has the right to accost you.

That’s a fact. No “right to beg” exists. No one has license to invade the personal space of others or to make unwanted demands of them.

The problem of street people, however, is that the majority of them have mental problems or chemical abuse issues – problems that make them unpredictable and prone to violence. Yes, all people you encounter, no matter what their stations in life, could be threats – but you’d be a fool not to recognize the heightened risks offered by those who are obviously ill-kempt and erratic.

All these thoughts went through my mind as I watched outside that coffeehouse. While I waited, a disheveled, gaunt African-American man in his twenties or thirties came shuffling up, rattling the loose change in a paper cup. “Change?” he barked. “Any change?” He accosted several people, all of whom ignored him. He asked me for change too. I stared him down and he wandered a little farther away.

Had I left then, those of you who think street people are just misunderstood would be free to chastise me as callous and paranoid. There’s more to this particular story, though.

When no one among the plentiful crowd would give this person any money, he became hostile and belligerent. “What the fuck…” he muttered, his voice growing louder as he worked up a head of steam. “I ain’t so fuckin’ bad… fuckin’ assholes… sons of bitches…”

Now, is he a harmless hobo whom society has left behind? Is it just possible that when approached by a shaking, angry, reeking man – who is yelling obscenities and cursing you out for refusing him money – you’ll recognize him for the threat he represents?

Compassion is a wonderful thing Misplaced compassion will get you maimed or killed. No amount of compassion will change the harsh realities of street predation. Remember that the next time you’re out.

If I needed a reminder, I certainly got one.

OFFRAMP BEGGARS

Anyone who drives in urban and suburban areas will, sooner or later, be confronted by one of the more obnoxious manifestations of panhandling — offramp beggars. I say “obnoxious” because I find it particularly galling that someone would both ask for money and ask in such a way that those inclined to give must put themselves at great physical risk to do so.

Offramp beggars pose a serious risk to those inclined to charity.

You are never in more danger than when seated and belted in your automobile, stopped, with your window down and another human being standing nearby. You have very little mobility and even less leverage sitting in your car.

In Texas, an uproar occurred when a holder of one of the state’s then-new CCW permits shot and killed another person in a “traffic dispute.” What didn’t always make the left-leaning news reports of this example of “gun violence” was the fact that the shooter fired in self-defense. He was sitting in his car when a road-raging fellow traveler reached into his open and window and started striking him repeatedly.

Being struck in the head again and again can result in serious injury, permanent blindness, and even death. The armed citizen knew this and reacted accordingly. Given his relatively helpless nature sitting in the car, his gun was really the only option available to him. This emphasizes just how big a disadvantage you face when sitting while attacked by a standing assailant, especially if your strapped in and going nowhere.

That open car window is a liability when you’re stopped.

Now, consider an offramp. If you’re trapped at the light at the bottom of the ramp, the beggar has a captive audience. He can approach your vehicle and there’s little you can do about it except refuse to roll down your window. Most of the time, this is sufficient to protect you — but remember, few car windows are brick-proof.

If you think you’re going to drive away when a threat appears, forget it — unless you’re keen on trading a mugging for a car accident. You’re stopped at that light for a reason. If there aren’t cars both in front of and behind you, chances are you’ll have to pull into oncoming traffic to drive against the light.

To give that offramp beggar money, you must essentially offer him your throat in complete trust. Reaching through your own car window to hand him a dollar, you are totally vulnerable.

Never give money to panhandlers, especially if you’re in your car. It is not worth the risk. You may successfully give money to scores of street people before encountering one who’s inclined to do more than quietly take what you volunteer — but why subject yourself to unnecessary danger? You have family and friends who count on you. Your continued health and well-being is more important than that of someone rude enough to corner people in their cars.

This panhandler was not pleased to see my camera.

The same is true when you are approached outside of your car. Again, never give money to panhandlers. For one thing, at least one of your hands is occupied when you hand something over to someone else. For another, you are telling the panhandler that you have money when you give him some of it. Oh, and please, for the love of all that is holy, do not take out your wallet and start selecting a suitable donation from your available funds. You might as well wear a sign around your neck that says, “Rob me.”

The assumption, when dealing with street people, is that the majority of them have mental problems, chemical dependencies, or other issues that make them a potential danger to you. Even if you successfully and peacefully give money to scores of them, sooner or later you will meet one who wants more than you are willing to give.

Many of the hard-luck stories beggars tell you are con games and nothing more. How can you tell? Most of them commit the classic error of offering too much information. The more elaborate the song and dance, the more complicated the backstory justifying the begging, the greater the probability that the whole thing is bogus.

GOT THE TIME?

If you’re obviously wearing a watch, you have two choices when asked for the time. You can be rude and refuse to give it, or you can comply with the request. The problem is that when approached on the street by a stranger, there is a chance — not a great one, but a real one nonetheless — that someone who asks you for the time is trying to distract you in order to assault you. Think about it: when you look at your watch, you typically look down at your arm, making you an easy target.

If someone you don’t know comes up to you and asks you for the time, you can easily minimize your risk. Step back casually, away from the stranger, preferably blading your body as you do so. Raise your arm rather than lowering your head, keeping that arm well away from your body and between you and the other person. In this way you can read the time while keeping your guard up.

Practice doing this so it looks casual rather than confrontational. There’s no need to drop into your Daniel-san crane stance and fire off a flurry of snap kicks just to tell someone they’re late for an appointment.

GOT A LIGHT?

The answer to this question is no, you don’t have a light. You do not, in fact, smoke, even if you do, if someone you don’t know wanders up to you on the street and asks you this question. (Now, if you’ve got a cigarette dangling from your mouth it’s going to be harder to deny that you smoke. This scenario assumes that a stranger has approached you and you have given no public indication that you have a source of flame on your person.)

There’s simply no way to light another person’s cigarette for them on the street without incurring an unacceptable level of risk, unless you’re willing to toss someone a lighter or a book of matches. (For you smokers, that’s one option. Pick up a handful of those free books of matches people still give away here and there, or buy a box at the store. Carry a couple in your pocket in addition to your lighter. When someone asks you for a light, you can toss them a book of matches (from a safe, casual distance) and even look generous by adding, “Keep it.”

Picture standing in front of someone, holding your lighter to that person’s cigarette. At least one of your hands — possibly two, if you’re cupping one palm against the wind — is occupied. You’re also giving that stranger a burning cylinder of tobacco with which he can put your eye out, if he’s so inclined. (That’s why cops will often tell you to put out your cigarette when they speak with you.)

PARANOIA AND PRUDENCE

These are just a few examples of scenarios in which you must be extremely careful in today’s world. Being mindful of these risks isn’t paranoid. It’s prudent. It’s sad that we must be concerned about such things, but the reality of our world is that you simply can’t trust people you do not know. Every one of these scenarios has been used before to victimize someone by playing on the individual’s basic decency, his or her desire to help others.

I am not advocating that you envision marauding ninja crouching behind every parking meter or draw down on every Girl Scout who wants to know how long it will be before her bus arrives. You’ve got to keep things in perspective.

That perspective, however, must include a recognition of the real dangers that exist in contemporary society.

I write often on this issue because street beggars are easily the security threat with which I deal most often. (Barely a week goes by in which I do not have a new panhandler story to add to my collection. This is the result of regular trips downtown and nothing more provocative than that.) While many beggars are honest enough simply to bark at you for your money without pretext, many others use a variety of ploys designed to gain your sympathy or allay your suspicions.

Common beggar ploys have one thing in common: they are all, pardon my language, bullshit. The following indicators are by no means an inclusive list, but they serve as a great thumbnail guide to some of the more common street lies. All are ploys with which I’ve been confronted personally. Granted, there are people out there whose hard luck stories are actually true, but they’re much fewer and farther between than many people think.

Too Much Information

This is the big one, the ploy indicator most frequently encountered. Liars and beggars almost always fail to keep things simple. They launch into incredibly involved stories on the theory that the more detail they include, the more plausible the ruse will seem. This is not the case. A good liar keeps things simple because this leaves fewer traps to remember and avoid.

A young man wearing gold chains over a muscle shirt once gave me an elaborate song and dance about needing money to make a phone call because he needed a ride to some outpatient cancer treatment center, an appointment he’d missed previously due to a number of factors (which he supplied). The whole pile of nonsense was obviously an excuse to separate me from my money.

Gas Money

Apparently we are in the grip of a nationwide epidemic of stranded motorists, all of whom just need two or maybe five dollars worth of gas to get them on their ways again. The only cure for this epidemic is the kindness of strangers, it would seem, for this army of stranded motorists is even now wandering the streets, asking passers-by for help. Almost every time you encounter this request, it’s bogus.

Lunch Money

I recall a study some time back – it might have been in USA Today or some other major media outlet – that speared a popular myth. Most of the “homeless” carrying signs saying “will work for food” actually wouldn’t when offered the chance.

Take a good look at the next beggar who asks for money because, he tells you, he’s hungry. He doesn’t look like he’s starving, does he? He looks dirty and unkempt, sure, but emaciated? People who are really starving look the part.

A beggar once accosted me citing a specific sum of money and muttering about the specific breakfast he hoped to purchase at the exact establishment he sought to patronize. Ploys are like that – they sometimes come wrapped in each other. This was “Too Much Information” within “Lunch Money.”

Speak Up

I was waiting outside an urban coffee shop plagued by aggressive panhandlers (who, when they aren’t begging, sexually harass and intimidate the female college students who frequent the shop) when I last encountered this ploy. A disheveled white male of perhaps middle age wandered up, muttering something I could not hear. I glared at him and he gave me a wide berth as he continued to work the area, accosting everyone entering the shop. Everyone who did not ignore him stopped and said something like, “What?” or “Pardon?” because he muttered so quietly. This is a deliberate, calculated decision on such a beggar’s part. Mumbling panhandlers hope to catch you off guard, counting on the cultural reflex that prompts you to ask for clarification when you do not hear what someone says. I’ve fallen for this myself without thinking.

The appropriate response to anyone who accosts you and mumbles is no response at all, though you may choose to observe silently to see if the speaker repeats his or her plea.

Help a Vet

Most of the homeless “veterans” one encounters are veterans of long begging careers and nothing more. Those holding signs proclaiming their veteran status are hoping to cash in on your gratitude to those who fight and die for our country. Some will go so far as to dress themselves in soldier costumes, wearing fatigues or boonie hats as if they’ve just gotten off the first boat from Over There to find themselves destitute among spitting hippie ingrates.

The majority of “veteran” beggars are liars who have never served in the U.S. military. Your heart is in the right place, but don’t fall for this one.

The Grace of God

Ours is basically a religious society. Many people will try to invoke religion as a means of gaining trust or allaying fear. Some subtle con artists will wear crosses (which are large enough to be obvious to those whom they accost). Others will work references to God or church into their ploys.

One early morning, while walking from my car to my office, a couple in a battered and fanbelt-sqealing Cadillac stopped and gave me an elaborate song and dance about losing or running out of money. They were supposedly desperate to get gas money to get home but, shrewdly, did not directly ask me for funds. Instead they wanted to know where the nearest church could be found (their ostensible purpose for stopping me).

The implication was, of course, that they were good Christians who only sought the support of their network of fellow believers. One supposes that, lulled by their evident religious credentials, I as the mark would be inclined simply to give them money to help them on their way.

I didn’t fall for it and neither should you. God doesn’t care if you’ve got gas in your car. That’s your responsibility. Anyone invoking God while implying a need for cash is simply using religion to mask a ploy.

What to Do When Accosted

If you are accosted by a street person, particularly one whose pitch involves any of these ploys, do not engage that person. No dialogue will improve the situation. A null response gives the beggar nothing with which to work in attempting to involve himself in your life.

If the beggar begins to encroach on you personal safety zone, warn him or her off. A firm, neutral “Step away from the car” or “Do not approach me” should suffice. If the beggar does not listen and tries to engage you, maintain space as needed. If the encounter becomes an assault, do what you must.

Remember that most people who approach you in public asking for money are liars. You should not trust them and you do not owe them a blessed thing.

No one has the right to demand your money, no matter with what ploy the demand is disguised.