The Story of Amara

Steven: “Hi, I’m Steven. What’s your name?”
Amara: “Amara.”

Steven: “Nice to meet you, Amara. I used to never come to Bronx but now I come here quite often!”
Amara: “Yeah, you should visit us more over in Harlem. Funny story, it’s where I grew up, so I guess it makes sense that I ended up back here. Full circle type of deal.”

Steven: “You grew up here? That must give you a unique perspective.”
Amara: “It does. When I was a kid, this neighborhood was a different place. My dad ran a little record shop on Lenox Avenue, and everyone knew everyone. Now, most of the old businesses are gone. In the past two years, rent hikes has been pushing everyone out except people like me because I never got a place to go to begin with.”

Steven: “Does that mean you’ve been homeless for majority of your life?”
Amara: “Oh, no, I meant over the last two years. It’s been four years. I was working as a paralegal downtown, making just enough to get by. But then my mom got sick with Alzheimer’s. I had to quit to take care of her full-time. After she passed, I couldn’t keep up with the bills. One eviction notice later, and here I am.”

Steven: “I’m so sorry, Amara. That must’ve been a lot to carry on your own.”
Amara: “It was. But I don’t regret taking care of her. She was my mom. She deserved better than what the system gave her, but at least she had me. I just wish I’d been able to hold things together after she was gone.”

Steven: “Do you have anyone supporting you now?”
Amara: “Not really. I have a cousin who lives in Jersey, but we’re not close. And most of my friends drifted away once I lost my apartment. It’s funny how people vanish when you’re struggling. I used to have a whole crew, but now it’s just me.”

Steven: “That’s something I’ve heard very often out here. Many people change and honestly, instead of pushing those who need help away, we should be lending them a hand…I’m sorry you had to go through that…do you mind sharing the hardest part of being out here?”
Amara: “You never know what’s coming next, where you’ll sleep, when you’ll eat, if someone’s going to mess with you while you’re minding your business. And as a woman, it’s a whole different level of danger. You learn to sleep light, to keep one eye open. It’s exhausting.”

Steven: “Have you ever tried staying in shelters?”
Amara: “Yeah, but they’re overcrowded and not safe. I stayed in one for a month, but there was an incident—a guy got violent with one of the women, and no one did anything. After that, I decided I was better off on the streets. At least here, I can pick my spot and leave if I feel unsafe.”

Steven: “Yeah, that’s a common thing I’ve been hearing about shelters. They’re really dangerous and I’ve been fighting for the city to invest more towards them…we really should…what do you out here to pass the time?”
Amara: “I sing. My dad used to say I had a voice like Ella Fitzgerald. He’d play her records all the time, and I’d sing along. Now, I sing to keep myself calm, to remember him, to feel like I’m still me. People walking by sometimes stop and listen, and every once in a while, someone will even throw me a dollar.”

Steven: “That’s incredible. Do you ever dream of performing?”
Amara: “I do. I used to sing at open mics back in the day, but that feels like a lifetime ago. Now, it’s more for survival than anything else. But yeah, sometimes I close my eyes and imagine I’m on a stage, with a full band behind me and a crowd that actually sees me.”

Steven: “What’s something about you that would surprise people?”
Amara: “I almost completed a law degree before I dropped out. Most people wouldn’t guess that by looking at me now, but yeah. I went to Howard. I wanted to be a civil rights lawyer, to fight for people who didn’t have a voice like you are doing right now. Funny how life works out because look at me now.”

Steven: “A law degree? Wow… do you think you’ll go back to finish the degree?”
Amara: “I would love to, but it feels impossible. I have so many other things to worry about, but I’m going to keep trying as hard as I can. I’m not the type to give up that easily.”

Steven: “That’s very motivating and impressive to hear someone say that, and I’m sure colleges love a good comeback story, especially ones like yours…What keeps you going because I think a lot of homeless people are struggling to maintain a sense of motivation and it sounds like you have a lot of it.”
Amara: “My dad used to say I was the most hardworking kid he’d ever met, and I think that’s what’s keeping me alive now. I refuse to give up, even when there has been so many times that I got shoved down.”

Steven: “Yeah, it’s really amazing and I think everyone should have the same mentality as you. Now, if you had three wishes, what would they be?”
Amara: “First, I’d wish for a little apartment, nothing fancy, just a place where I can lock the door and feel safe. Second, I’d wish for a chance to sing on stage again, even just once. And my third wish would. be for my dad’s record shop to still be here because it was more than just a business because it meant so much to him. I wish I could see it open again.”

Steven: “Amara, thank you so much for sharing your story, and I wish you the best. Stay safe!”
Amara: “Of course and thank you for listening to me.”