homelessness

Just as COVID-19 has changed almost every aspect of daily life, it has also reshaped homelessness in Indianapolis.

The blinds were drawn. A feeling of certainty fell peacefully over the room, and with it, relief. Karen leaned over the bed, over Bethany and Susan, and began to pray. All three of them so close together, waiting.

“I think it’s just a fundamental need—food, clothing, and shelter,” says Reitz. “It’s something that you hope that everybody in our world, especially our city, has access to.”

For first-time filmmakers Adam Oppenheim and Sam Mirpoorian, the inspiration for their documentary on homelessness in Indianapolis came from a local news report.

Had the pedestrians and shopkeepers of a less-enlightened metropolis complained about aggressive panhandling (as they did in Indianapolis a few years ago), their leaders might simply have opted for rousting the offenders. Not here. In 2008, we also got donation boxes on downtown sidewalks for the benefit of the homeless. They seemed an admirable symbol of compromise: While pledging to keep an eye on problem beggars, the city also acknowledged that combating homelessness is a cause worth raising money for. Even the boxes’ signage echoes the compromise, managing to scold (“No one should be bullied to give a handout”) and implore (“Give Real Help”) all at once.