I’m walking along the sidewalk of Dubourg Hall when I see him, a tall African American man with a grocery cart filled to the brim with what looked like trash to me, but to him, was probably personal treasures. At first glance, a ping of fear captivates my nerves as I stare intensely at the pavement as to not make eye contact. But as we draw closer, my unjustifiable fear transforms to empathy, sadness, and compassion. This obviously cold and homeless man must encounter judgmental eyes, disgusted faces, and pure hatred every day he walks his streets. He lives his life pacing up and down the same roads searching for something, anything. The question that haunts my mind every day I see a man or woman like him is “how can I really help you,” or
