Last night, before our bike ride. We were standing on Cass outside the Hub bike shop with a couple dozen cyclists when a woman and a man came our way. The woman approached me first, she was thin and had short cropped hair. Her clothes were clean and she was wearing a netted navy tank. It could be seen through, which alarmed me. Public nudity, or partial nudity, typically alarms me. A man was trailing behind her. He was carrying an unlit cigarette and saying something to the crowd of cyclists about biking. Whatever he said was odd, but funny. Neither of them seemed to pose any kind of threat. His clothes were also clean. He seemed, based on what he’d said and his overall manner, to be intoxicated.
The woman spoke to me, I was the only woman directly near her. She mumbled and looked just past me. “He’s an idiot, men are idiots, aren’t they? What an idiot…” She waited for my response. I told her liked men and knew some pretty wonderful ones. She pointed to David and asked me if he was wonderful and I told her he was. I then told her that I grew up without my mom and my dad raised me, which was pretty wonderful, too. She nodded towards her companion, “Well he’s an idiot. Do you get hot flashes? I am having hot flashes- they are horrible.” She tugged at her tank to move the air. I told her I didn’t get them yet and she said I better hope not to get them. Then she asked me for money.
If you know me, you know that I play these requests by ear, I don’t feel bad giving cash to strangers, as long as it feels safe. David and I try to plan ahead, packing small bills in a place where we won’t have to make a big deal out of opening a wallet or purse. And when the person asking is a woman, I always give what I have, because I cannot imagine how much harder it is to be a woman living on the streets or addicted to drugs. This has not always been my policy. I used to give Cliff bars or little packets of tuna fish, but it was disheartening to get yelled at because people don’t usually want food, they want alcohol or drugs. Anyway, all of that to say that if I had had cash, I would have given it to her. I was all prepped for the bike ride and did not. So I told her I did not have my purse and she quietly and calmly told me to have a great day and walked on. Her partner lingered in the crowd as she moved down the sidewalk.
At just that moment, out of nowhere, several Detroit police vehicles approached, blocking the Southbound lane of the street. One of the officers corralled Michelle (I learned that this was her name) and routed her back to where her partner was. They circled around her. Standing behind the doors of the police vehicles. She sat on the sidewalk and they took turns yelling things at her. She was disoriented and clearly mentally ill, possibly on some substance as well. She sat on the sidewalk complaining about hot flashes and tugging her shirt. The officers did not express compassionate behavior, they were aggressive and antagonistic, like boys poking a dog with a stick. I began to record the scene on David’s camera very obviously so that they knew I was recording it. Some Wayne State officers arrived and calmed the Detroit police down. I stopped recording and walked over to talk. I told the one who indicated that he was in charge of the situation, that I had been speaking with her minutes before and she was not hostile or aggressive, just hot. We talked about how challenging it is to handle situations with folks who are mentally ill because jail is not where they belong. He was gentle and he diffused the situation, which I have no doubt the Detroit police were planning to escalate. He told me that they try to send people who are mentally ill and causing a disturbance to the hospital but they are out the next day and that there were no great resources available. I have no doubt the scene would have played out differently if not for his wisdom and compassion.
The police left the scene letting Michelle and her partner resume their journey. As she passed me, she again told me she was so hot from the hot flashes. I told her to take a few deep breaths, it always helped me, and she did, then she went on her way. I felt strong emotion as she walked away, wondering how she lives in the world. What kinds of things happen to her, as a small, vulnerable mentally ill woman with little protection from anything.
About 10 minutes later, our ride began, and as we approached Warren, we passed Michelle, who was now wearing a new shirt that covered her breasts. She was screaming at the top of her lungs to everyone who passed. Not violent, but definitely causing a disturbance. I was so certain she was gentle when she walked away earlier, but now she was fairly hysterical. It reminded how uncertain certainly can be.
Later that night in Hamtramck, we stopped to fix a flat tire and the group was all standing around on Conant. We noticed a tiny calico kitten across the street about to jump into the road where it would surely be hit. We ran over and scared it back into a yard where its mother and siblings could be seen in the distance on the front porch. It had some kind of infection or little scabs in its eyes and I had to fight not to shove it in my sweater to take home. There was a metal fence around the yard and the kitten kept getting bold and heading back toward us, so we’d stomp our feet and make noises to scare it back to its mama. Finally, an older woman with a heavy accent came out and we told her the kitten was about to run into the street. She said they were wild but she fed them and wanted to keep them rather than calling the Humane Society. All the other kittens began tumbling clumsily and adorably down the steps and goodness, they were darling. She and my soft-hearted friend Vikki kept talking, but I walked away feeling certain that all the kittens would be dead before the month was up.
Reflecting upon the events the next morning, I realized that I felt a similar desire to protect both Michelle and the kitten, knowing that neither was for me to protect.
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