Festival For The Homeless Creates Sense Of Belonging In Winston-Salem

As things get underway at Gateway Commons Park in Winston-Salem, the Phase Band — playing on a makeshift trailer stage — warms up the crowd of 50 or so early arrivals.

“We're doing this all for the homeless, ladies and gentlemen,” shouts keyboardist Earnest Johnson. “Sometimes we've got to look out for each other. Sometimes people have a vision. Sometimes people got an ideal that they want to give back to the community.”   

This is a unique festival. Its goal is to lift up a group of community members seldom celebrated and frequently maligned: Forsyth County's homeless population.

In 2018 they numbered 440 with roughly 10 percent experiencing chronic homelessness — those living on the streets for at least one year with a disabling condition. But numbers don't tell the whole story. There are health and safety concerns, roadblocks to employment, and ruined credit scores.

Often equally troubling for people experiencing homelessness is the lack of a sense of belonging. The fourth annual Festival for the Homeless aims to change that.   

The event is walking distance from the Salvation Army's family homeless shelter and other shelters downtown. It's in a beautiful park, with live music, and lots of food like barbecue, fruit salads, and pizza. There's also a play area for kids, and tents filled with donated second-hand clothing. 

It's the brainchild of local volunteer Kimberly Hinton-Robinson. She's worked with the homeless for about 10 years.

“They shared with me that they don't go to the festivals downtown because they don't feel welcome,” says Robinson. “So, I prayed about it, and God said, ‘Give them a festival for the homeless.' So, that's what I did, and I've been doing it ever since.”

Sitting at a picnic table with a plate of barbeque and slaw, Aaron Gimmel scans the festive scene and familiar faces and recalls darker times.

“Yeah people give you that look,” he says. “It's all about that look. It says, 'Are you supposed to be here?' So, It's kind of nice, this is about us, you know?”

Across a grassy field, Linda Hairston is making her way through neat piles of second-hand clothing displayed on folding tables beneath a large tent. When asked what this festival means to her, Hairston pauses and smiles, all the while fingering the fabric of a brightly colored scarf. 

“I think it's love,” says Hairston. “I think it's kindness. I appreciate what people are doing for us and everything.”

And those people, dozens of them, are volunteers, like Allan Younger. He directs the small business center at Forsyth Tech. 

“About four years ago, Kim first told me about it,” says Younger. “She told me about what she wanted to do, and she said, 'I need other people who have a heart like me to show love to others.' And that's all it is, just hanging out with my new friends, helping them to have a better day today than they had yesterday.”

Younger recognizes that homelessness is a huge issue in the community, but he says finding solutions begins with a look inward.

“Well, it's a problem everywhere, and the biggest problem is that a lot of us ignore it,” he says. “The biggest problem is that a lot of us act like it couldn't be us. And so, we don't treat people with the respect they deserve. So, what we can do is just reach out and say, 'Hey, I see you, I love you, God loves you.'”

Mere words? Not so, says April Pou. 

“It means that somebody cares,” he says. “I mean, you have a lot of people in Winston-Salem who are struggling. And I run across a lot of people who are self-centered, that don't care about other people. But it's good to know that there are people in this society, in this city, this town that want you to do well instead of wanting you to fall.” 

Pou, dressed in khaki pants and a stylishly patterned, collared short-sleeve shirt, stands in line for hamburgers on the grill. There's a large plastic bag of clothes hooked on the shoulder strap of his gym bag. In addition to the organizers and volunteers here, Pou says he's also thankful for recent help he's received from local homeless service providers who he says are helping him get back on his feet. 

“Two days ago, I was sleeping on the park bench,” says Pou. “Now I can take a shower and wash my clothes. You know, I took all my clothes I had hid in the bushes, because they stole the other half. And this is what I had his is what I'm wearing right now. And everybody's like when I went back to the park, they're like, 'Oh, you look different!' I'm like, 'I've got clothes, but I'm not going to wear my good clothes to sleep on a park bench!'”

There's a sense of community here, nearly 100 people whose paths have crossed many times moving from shelter to shelter. And yet, even with shared experiences and support, the road to recovery, for many, runs steeply uphill.

Marlene Marshall came here for the live music. She wants to know how she's supposed to build up her low credit rating while being homeless. While looking on at children playing nearby, she says she feels like she's constantly being knocked down.

“It's hard…it's hard,” Marshall says. “It's not as easy as everybody thinks. So, I wish nothing on nobody, not even me. Trying to get up out of it.” 

Marshall says trying to get up and out of it may be an ongoing struggle for her and most of the people here. But she's thankful for this one day to come together, feel normal, and just have a good time.