The Revolving Door of Criminalization

The other night, my friend, Jill (not her real name), one of the most vulnerable people I know on the street, called me for a ride from Antioch Pike and Harding. She’s past 50, and she has been suffering PTSD from an terrible incident from this past spring. And why is she calling me at 8:30pm, other than that I have been working to help her get housing and care? Because on this stormy night, she has no one else to call, and the police have just let her out of jail far from anywhere (as they typically do people released from jail), when buses don’t run reliably to the part of town she is staying in. And why was she in jail? Because she was at Room in the Inn and a guy stole some $20 from her, and she called the police, only instead of arresting him, they discovered she had a warrant out for her arrest and so arrested her instead. And why did she have a warrant out for her arrest? Because a couple of months ago she was walking back from Room in the Inn the couple of miles to where she stays when it started raining, so she ducked under the awning of a downtown church to wait out the thunderstorm, and a Metro cop saw her and graciously gave her–she has no money–a citation that she can’t pay instead of hauling her into jail that very night. And on what grounds did she get a citation? Because sometimes the church understands it to be a Christian duty to have anyone seeking shelter on their property arrested automatically for trespassing (a so-called “trespass waiver”). And why did she not pay the fine? Besides the fact that she has no money to pay fines and court costs, like most of the homeless in Nashville? Because at the time of the court date, she was hospitalized for the severe PTSD and so had been unavailable to attend to pay the court costs and fines she could not afford and did not deserve.donotpassgo

This scenario of petty criminalization repeats itself dozens of times per week in Nashville, pushing people further and further into desperation and homelessness. Not everyone on the street, of course, suffers from PTSD from a terrible incident as an adult. Some were abused as children. Others neglected, or bullied, or raped. Some are depressed and anxious because of losing a job and difficulty in supporting a family. Or suffered PTSD while fighting for our country. Or any of those thousand little ways our lives have of falling apart. Most often they lack support circles. And our best answer to their problems is to fine or arrest them at every turn, lock them up for non-payment of court costs and fines, then arrest them again a while later, starting the whole cycle over again. Criminalizing people experiencing homelessness costs us–Nashville alone– millions in court costs and futile policing, and it costs people who are already suffering their dignity, their recovery, and sometimes their lives. It also costs us our humanity.

Samuel Lester

OTN Outreach


With Liberty and Justice for Some

As I sat on a grassy hill overlooking the Cumberland River, observing the annual Independence Day fireworks and their reflection on the still water, I thought about what we as Americans celebrate on this day. What do the fireworks and the festive parties and parades mean? I thought about asking a few of the many people sitting next to me on this hill, each one decked out in stars and stripes, “What does this day represent for you?” Some might mention our First Amendment rights, freedom of religion, speech, press, assembly, and petition, all of which are valuable. But what other freedoms do we have? What about the freedom to work and earn money to use to feed and shelter our loved ones and ourselves? Or the freedom to walk the streets without the fear of being unjustly harassed or arrested because we do or do not look a certain way? Although the seizure of these rights is thought of as something foreign and unthinkable, thousands of individuals in the United States experience the injustice of having their basic human rights disregarded because of their social-economis status as poor or homeless.

After the fireworks show is over, most of us drove to our homes and snoozed in our comfortable beds. But for some, there is no permanent home to return to, maybe not even a friendly couch to relieve tired, blistering feet. The homes of our friends on the streets look different. They may be more temporary or less sustainable. They may not provide necessary protection from the elements. They might not even be there when they return. The only solace available might look like a bench in a public park, which provides little security and a large risk of arrest. There may be no kitchen with a pantry of food to return to when hunger strikes. Each meal is a question mark; each day is uncertain. So, rather than perpetuate this exclusive freedom and only honor the rights of those who are labeled as worthy, let us as a community accompany one another with support and grace as we redefine what it really means to be American. If we call this the land of the free and the home of the brave, let us be brave enough to fight for the freedom and equality of all people. Join Open Table Nashville in making this happen here in this city we all share (



OTN Summer Intern