Yesterday morning, a post popped up on my community board. A neighbour had come across a man in the green space near two of our local schools, the same path so many of our kids walk every day. He’d been seen kneeling with his pants down, and later passed out. She called the police.
It took over an hour for them to arrive. When they did, they helped him up and let him go. He walked off, still clearly unwell, in the direction of the schools.
The post was a PSA for parents: talk to your kids, tell them never to approach, go find an adult. I read it a few times. I’ve been sitting with it ever since.
The part she got right
Let me start here, because it matters: the safety message is a good one. Kids should trust their gut. They shouldn’t approach someone they don’t know, especially someone who seems unwell. They should go get a grown-up.
And calling the police was the right call. It was an act of care. It brought in people with the training to check on someone who clearly wasn’t okay.
Where judgment crept in
But woven through that post were a lot of assumptions. He might be on drugs. He might have weapons. It was “terrifying.” A drug deal from two years ago got pulled in as evidence. There was real surprise that this could happen here, as if our neighbourhood should be immune from “inner city” problems.
And even after the police checked on him and decided he could go, the worry stayed: but he walked toward the schools.
Here’s what we actually know: a person was unwell in a public place. That’s it. We don’t know if it was a medical emergency, a mental health crisis, substance use, or something else entirely. The post itself wondered whether he might be a high school student. Someone’s kid.
When the people trained to assess the situation decided he wasn’t a danger, we’re allowed to let that be the answer. That’s their call to make. Not ours.
Let’s talk about privilege (mine included)
At its heart, I think this post is about privilege. It’s the idea that hardship belongs somewhere else (downtown, in other neighbourhoods, to other people) and that seeing it up close is an intrusion.
I say that with a lot of humility, because I have plenty of privilege of my own. I grew up in a middle-class, mostly white neighbourhood, and I live in one now. As an adult, I’ve been lucky enough to backpack and travel and see how people live all over the world. I’ve taken part in inner-city pilgrimages that let me spend time with, and learn from, people living very different lives from mine.
Those experiences changed how I see people. They’re also experiences a lot of folks never get the chance to have, and I don’t take that for granted. I’m not an expert. I’m sure there are places in how I’m seeing this situation where I could still do better.
Why I didn’t hit reply
I’ll be honest: I typed out a few replies. Something like, thank you for calling the police and making sure he was okay. Yes, let’s teach our kids to be safe. And let’s also teach them not to judge.
In the end, I didn’t post any of them. I wasn’t there, so I couldn’t stand up for him in the moment. And I didn’t think a comment thread would turn into a real conversation about doing better. More likely, it would turn into people defending their reactions and digging in.
So I’m choosing this instead: stepping back, sharing what I’ve learned, and opening the door to a conversation that’s a little slower and a little kinder.
What I told my kids
Last night, I sat down with my kids and we talked it through. Here’s the balance we landed on:
- Trust your gut. If something doesn’t feel right, you’re allowed to walk away.
- Don’t approach. Not because the person is bad, but because you don’t know what’s going on.
- Find a grown-up. A teacher, a crossing guard, a neighbour, us. Sometimes helping looks like getting help.
- Don’t decide who someone is. A person who’s struggling is still a person. You don’t know their story, and it’s not your job to judge it.
- Care anyway. You can be careful and kind at the same time.
That last one’s the big one. Safe and kind aren’t opposites. We can hold both.
Help me learn
So here’s my ask. If you’ve lived this from the other side (been the person struggling in public, loved someone who was, or worked alongside people who are), I’d love to hear from you. If I’ve gotten something wrong here, please tell me.
Help me, and help our community, learn to look at each other with more openness, compassion and love.
That’s what Easy Peasy Tees is about: kids, community, and making caring a little easier. Sometimes that’s a tee for Pink Shirt Day. Sometimes it’s a conversation at the kitchen table.
In community,
Laura-Lee
