Beyond the Stereotypes

Welcome to Module 2 of Engaging Poverty 101 — Beyond the Stereotypes.

In Module 1, we looked at global wealth, American church giving, and the staggering scale of the problem we are facing. We established that, by almost any global standard, most of us are incredibly wealthy. And we established that the resources exist to end the most visible forms of poverty — if only we had the clarity, the understanding, the will to deploy them, along with real accountability for how those resources are distributed and used.

The next area we need to address is the stereotypes many of us hold about people in poverty — because many of us, if we are honest, believe it is their fault. We may agree that money alone is not the solution, but still we think: if they just had a job, everything would be fine. Right? I mean, when you see someone in poverty, what have you thought? “They’re just lazy; addicted to drugs or alcohol; uneducated ; make bad decisions with money; prefer handouts over hard work; are dangerous or criminal. All of those thoughts put the blame on the individual, despite other factors that may be true in their lives.

There is no shame in admitting it — we have all been there. These are the messages our culture has been sending for decades. They are embedded in our media, our politics, and sometimes even our theology. The idea that poverty is a personal failure — that if you are struggling, it must be because of something you did or didn’t do — is one of the most deeply rooted assumptions in American life. And it is reinforced by a selective reading of Scripture, including the words of Jesus, who said the poor would always be among us — a true statement, but one far more often used to justify inaction than it was ever meant to be.

But this module is called Beyond the Stereotypes for a reason. Because every single one of those statements is, at best, an oversimplification — and at worst, a lie that keeps us from seeing people the way God sees them.

Let’s start with the most visible face of poverty in America — the people we see on our streets. Because nothing exposes our assumptions faster than the actual data on homelessness.

According to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, 771,480 people were experiencing homelessness on a single night in January 2024 — the highest number ever recorded. HUD’s definition includes those who are literally on the street, those at imminent risk of losing their housing, those in temporary or transitional situations — the hidden homeless, living in a hotel, doubled up with family, or couch-surfing — and those fleeing abuse or violence.

And the demographics are not what most of us would expect.

Eighty-one percent of homeless people are adults — but 148,000 of them are children. Innocent children who do not fit any of our stereotypes. Children who, without intervention, will spend a lifetime trying to escape the poverty of their childhood — and who grow up to become the adults we pass on the street corner. Not everyone has a superhero story about getting off the street, despite their best efforts.

Five percent are veterans — men and women who served this country and came home to find they could not afford a roof over their heads. Veterans are 50% more likely to become homeless than the general population. Think about that. It is absurd. And it is equally absurd to judge a homeless person without ever knowing whether they served in the military.

Sixty percent of the homeless are people of color. The remaining forty percent are white.

Now let’s address the stereotypes directly.

“They’re addicted to drugs or alcohol.”

According to HUD’s 2024 data, 18% of homeless adults have a substance use disorder. That means more than 80% do not — though my experience suggests the true number is somewhat higher, since the overall figure is skewed by the large number of homeless children but even among the most visibly struggling, the majority are not addicted.

And for those who are — addiction is not a character flaw. It is almost always a response to unhealed trauma. We will go deeper on this when we discuss ACEs — Adverse Childhood Experiences — in a later module. But the short version is this: addiction is pain that found a chemical solution. The person on the corner holding the sign is often the person who needed grace the most and received it the least. Kindness is at the root of transformation — not judgment.

The next myth is that: “They are all mentally ill.”

Twenty-two percent of homeless adults have a serious mental illness — and that is a real challenge that deserves both compassion and resources. But it also means 78% do not. Mental illness does not explain the majority of homelessness. I will say this, though: if you imagine what it actually takes to survive on the street — the violence, the exposure, the constant uncertainty — it would be remarkable if it didn’t take a toll on a person’s mental health. And let’s remember, many people living comfortably in their homes carry some degree of mental illness as well. But most are not seriously mentally ill.

“They’re dangerous or criminals” is the next stereotype.

Yes and no — and the “yes” deserves context. Homeless people are 10 to 20 times more likely to be the victims of violent crime than the perpetrators of it. They are not the danger. They are in danger.

That said, it is true that many carry a criminal record. But their offense rarely reflects a threat to those around them. More often, it reflects a moment of impossible circumstances — and if we are honest, we cannot always say with certainty that, had we walked in their shoes, we would have chosen differently. Besides, many of us have had experiences that could have landed us in jail. We just didn’t get caught. But what if we had?

There is a cruel irony here: having a prior criminal record — even for a minor offense — is one of the leading causes that perpetuates the cycle of homelessness, because landlords routinely reject any applicant with a record. The system criminalizes poverty, and then uses that criminalization to justify denying housing. This is not an excuse. It is an explanation.

The next myth: “They’re lazy. They don’t want to work.”

In demographic surveys of homeless individuals, over 75% cited the inability to find a job paying a sustainable wage, or the inability to find affordable housing, as the primary cause of their homelessness. The third most common cause was family crisis — death, divorce, or domestic violence. Laziness did not make the list.

I can speak to this personally. Having founded a ministry that served the homeless in Charlotte, North Carolina — a ministry that reached into the thousands — 90% of the men we brought in off the street worked and paid a program fee. They were some of the hardest-working people I have ever known. They simply could not navigate a system designed to keep them out — not without sufficient help. That experience is the main reason I am sharing these modules. When I started this work decades ago, I had no idea, which brings us back to believing it is their own fault.

Consider this: A family of four living at the federal poverty line brings home $2,679 a month. The average two-bedroom apartment now costs $1,927 a month — leaving just $752 for food, utilities, transportation, and every other expense. A single emergency — a doctor’s visit, a car repair, a school supply list — can be the thing that moves a family from a home to a sidewalk. And, every single month, they are forced to choose between rent and food, between medicine and keeping the lights on.

Sound like laziness? Of course their choices are not always right — but who among us makes perfect choices?

Let’s dive a bit further into the real problem. According to the U.S. Government Accountability Office, there are only 35 affordable housing units available for every 100 extremely low-income renter households in America. When you hear politicians and advocates talking about the affordable housing crisis, this is the number behind that conversation. It is not a talking point. It is a drought.

Homelessness is what happens when the cost of simply existing has outpaced what the economy pays some of the people doing the hardest work.

Now — you may be wondering: what about the people who aren’t really homeless? The ones holding a sign on a corner but with a BMW parked around the block? The ones who appear to be working the system?

They exist. That is true.

There are people who misrepresent their situation to solicit money, and it is completely understandable to feel frustrated when you discover that. But does the existence of a few people who abuse compassion justify withholding it from the many who desperately need it? Jesus didn’t say, “Give to the poor, unless you suspect they might misuse it.” He said, “Give to everyone who asks of you.” The responsibility for how a gift is used belongs to the recipient.

That does not mean we abandon all wisdom. Handing money to a known addict is not necessarily an act of kindness. We all need discernment. People are complicated, and they can hide the truth when they want to — just like the rest of us. But discernment and compassion are not opposites. Our responsibility is not to guarantee the outcome. Our responsibility is the condition of our own heart. And statistically, for every one person gaming the system, there are dozens standing beside them whose need is completely real.

I’ll add this: anyone willing to stand on a street corner and beg — when they could be doing something else — is almost certainly carrying a weight we cannot see. That is not a con. That is desperation.

And lest we think this is a uniquely Christian conviction — Gandhi said, “Poverty is the worst form of violence.” Every major faith tradition in human history has placed the care of the poor at the center of what it means to live a good life. To look away is not neutrality. It is a choice — and it is almost always a violation of the golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Another assumption we make about people in poverty is that they are uneducated. Here is the truth.

One in four homeless adults attended college. Nearly 7% hold a bachelor’s degree or higher. The most common education level among homeless adults is a high school diploma — the same credential we tell every young person is the ticket to a better life. Twenty-seven percent attended some college but never finished their degree. And only 25% — one in four — did not complete high school.

The truth is, while education is important, when the rug is pulled out from underneath your life, education won’t save you from poverty.

So let’s take stock of what we have covered in this module.

The homeless are not primarily addicts. They are not primarily mentally ill. They are not lazy, dangerous, or there by choice. They are — overwhelmingly — people caught in a system where the math simply does not work. Where the rent is too high, the wages are too low, the housing is too scarce, and one bad day can be the difference between a home and a sidewalk.

They are children. They are veterans. They are families doing the math every month and coming up short. They are people of color — and they are white, working, and still unable to make the numbers work.

The stereotypes were never really about them. They were about us — about our need to create distance between their lives and ours, so we could feel safe in the gap. This module was about closing that gap.

Understanding who is in poverty is important. But the harder and more important question is why — and more specifically, what does poverty actually take from a person? Not just money. Not just housing. But what does it strip away at a deeper level, and what does it actually take to help someone build a life?

That is what Module 3 is about. We are going to look at poverty through the lens of resources — the full range of what human beings need to survive and thrive. We will draw on the work of Dr. Ruby Payne, whose framework has shaped how educators, social workers, and faith communities understand and respond to poverty for decades. Her definition of poverty is not about a dollar amount. It is about the extent to which a person does without resources — and once you see poverty that way, you will never see it the same way again.

I hope you will join us for Module 3.