The world needs more of your hope: Vianey's experience

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When I first decided to come to Argentina, I knew I wanted to work with people experiencing homelessness. I have always been deeply affected by seeing human beings living in conditions that can feel so inhumane, but I did not want to simply sit with that feeling. I wanted to understand it.

I was curious about what homelessness looks like in a different cultural context. I wanted to travel, to immerse myself somewhere unfamiliar, and, honestly, to put myself in situations that would make me uncomfortable. I knew that staying home, surrounded by everything familiar and comfortable, would only allow me to grow so much. I wanted to see what I could learn by stepping outside of that.

What I didn't expect was how quickly this experience would become about so much more than homelessness.

Over these months, I had the privilege of meeting people who allowed me to look past the circumstances I initially came here to understand. I began to realize how easy it is to see someone only through the situation they are in. Someone is living on the street, someone is experiencing poverty, someone needs shelter, someone needs food. Those things are real, and they matter. But they are not the entirety of a person.

There is so much more beyond that surface.

I wanted to know their favorite songs, the games they like to play, their hobbies, their beliefs, the things that make them laugh, the things that make them angry, the things they dream about. And more importantly, I was given the opportunity not only to ask about those things, but to actually stay in those moments with them. To sing with them. To dance with them. To laugh with them. To drink coffee together and talk about things that had nothing to do with homelessness.

Those moments were some of the most meaningful parts of my experience because there was no longer this clear separation between “housed” and “unhoused.” There were simply people sharing a space together.

That realization has stayed with me.

I also became much more aware of the privilege involved in my ability to come here. I was able to choose to leave my home, travel across the world, and immerse myself in an environment that was unfamiliar to me. I could choose to step into discomfort and then return to a life where I knew I had a home waiting for me. For many of the people I met, that same environment is not something they can simply choose to step away from.

Because I have been privileged enough to make that choice, it has been one of the greatest honors to use it to do more than simply be in these spaces. I wanted to feel them. To listen. To understand. To let myself be changed by what I was seeing and by the people I was meeting.

And I was changed.

I came here curious about homelessness. I am leaving with a much deeper understanding of people.

I am leaving with questions, too. I don't think I have answers to everything I arrived wondering about, and I don't think I am supposed to. If anything, truly listening has left me with even more questions. But I think that is part of what it means to listen honestly. You begin to realize how much you don't know, and how much more there is to understand.

Most of all, I am leaving with an immense appreciation for every person I had the honor of meeting. I wish nothing but the absolute best for each of them, and I hope that every person I interacted with knows that their presence, their stories, their humor, their kindness, and their resilience mattered to me.

The world may not always deserve your kindness, but it needs it.

You are living testimonies of what it means to have fortitude. To wake up every morning and face a battle without knowing whether you will win, and still get up. To go through another day, and then lie down at night knowing you will have to do it all over again, and still wake up the next morning.

There is something incredibly powerful in that.

The world, governments, and societies can take away livelihoods, homes, resources, and opportunities. There are so many things that can be taken from a person without their permission. But I hope that hope and resilience are never among them. Those are things that should never be taken away.

Because hope is powerful.

And I have had the privilege of seeing just how powerful it can be.

This experience will stay with me far beyond my time in Argentina. It became something much bigger than the role I initially thought I was coming here to fill. I came wanting to understand homelessness in another part of the world. I leave having learned, in so many ways, what it means to simply see people as people.

And if there is one thing I hope I can give back to the people who gave so much to me, it is this:

The world needs more of your hope.

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