By Chuan Teng, JD–
If you live or work in San Francisco, you’ve probably heard that we’re a failed city. Or that the city is dying. Or that we’re stuck in a “doom-loop.” But probably, more than anything, you’ve been told that nothing works, that our crises are beyond repair, that there’s no hope of change.
I, like many of my colleagues at PRC, and many of my fellow service providers, am here to tell you that it couldn’t be further from the truth.
The story of San Francisco is one we can all believe in: we find a way to persevere and triumph over adversity. Take the 1906 earthquake and the HIV epidemic of the 1980s as examples. In the aftermath of rubble, twisted iron, and clouds of smoke, we built one of the most inclusive and prosperous cities the world has ever known. When friends, colleagues, lovers, of all races, genders, and walks of life were perishing faster than we could count, we challenged the intolerant status quo and created a system of care that would save millions of lives around the world.
During both crises, our city’s character was defined by a choice: to give into the doom-and-gloom and the politics of old, or to lead with empathy, hope, and the belief that a better day will come.
In the present day, we’re faced with different albeit longstanding challenges and the same choice. A decades-long shortage of deeply affordable housing, a dwindling social safety net, a rapidly changing narcotics market plagued by fentanyl, all make the city by the bay nearly unrecognizable.
But there’s one epidemic that’s holding us back from tackling these challenges: that of hopelessness. When you learn that the definition of epidemic is “a widespread occurrence of an infectious disease in a community at a particular time,” it’s hard to argue there’s a greater poison plaguing our community than apathy and cynicism.
We all hear the statistics. San Francisco saw 811 accidental overdose deaths in 2023, and we’re on pace for 655 this year. These numbers are appalling and cannot be excused. I believe all of us, whether we show it or not, share in the deep grief of our current reality. But somewhere along the way to being shocked and appalled by the status quo, we lost sight of the value of evidence-based solutions that actually work. Some of us, such as the Fentanylifers, even resorted to using sarcasm to shame drug-addicted people and city leaders for the state of San Francisco. I understand the frustration, but I denounce and reject the grotesque denigration of human suffering.
The reality is, more than 70% of people suffering from addiction are either in recovery or have completed treatment, and more than 90% of people living in permanent supportive housing units across the Bay Area remained stably housed after 12 months.
These figures give me hope for the future of our city, but we still have work to do. We can and we must make better use of existing resources to tackle conditions on our streets while making necessary investments to address the real consequences of poverty, racism, and societal extremes.
In this moment, we have a choice. Will we feed the “doom-loop” narrative, giving into the politicking and the punditry? Or will we roll up our sleeves, and do and say what’s positive and productive?
When faced with this question myself, I need only reflect on the story of a man named Daniel, to guide me to hope.
While walking into work one day, I encountered a man lying on the ground in front of PRC’s office. He looked as if he’d been on the streets for a long time, talking to himself, with a phone charger and lighter strewn around him. But, as I approached, I saw a brief glimmer in his eye and something made me stop.
I knelt down and asked if I could bring him some water. He said yes, so I went inside and brought back a cup of water and we started talking. I learned his name was Daniel, and every so often, he spent time in the neighborhood. As we chatted, I asked him if he’d like to check out PRC’s Hummingbird program to get a meal and a shower. He said yes once more, so I went back inside to get a program flyer, and when I returned and asked again, Daniel gave another empathetic “yes!” He wanted to go to Hummingbird!
I called the Hummingbird program director right away to see if someone could come pick Daniel up. She said, “Yes, no problem, we’ll be there in 15 minutes.” Daniel and I stayed together on that sidewalk until my colleague arrived, and they drove Daniel back to Hummingbird.
The next day, that colleague shared that Daniel had dinner at Hummingbird, got some new clothes, and the team was linking him with a psychiatric provider. The satisfaction of feeling like we had done our job only grew when a few weeks later, a colleague who witnessed my conversation with Daniel told me that he had come back to the office. They said Daniel looked great and he had come back to thank us. I wish I’d been there to see him myself.
Daniel’s transformation represents what’s possible if we commit ourselves to a future rooted in hope. And although not every story will end happily, it is possible to make a difference, one person at a time.
Chuan Teng, J.D., is the Chief Executive Officer of PRC, which has a mission to help people affected by HIV/AIDS, substance use, or mental health issues better realize opportunities by providing integrated legal, social, and health services that address the broad range of social risk factors that impact wellness and limit potential. PRC, in service since 1987, assists approximately 5,000 individuals annually. For more information, please visit www.prcsf.org
Published on March 21, 2024
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