Give or Don't Give, But Don't Be A Jerk About It

You are not the arbiter of who does and does not deserve help.

A recent poll shows that 65% of Americans think our country is more divided than ever. But most of us seem to still agree that, in the right circumstances, philanthropy is a good thing.

Photo by Joel Muniz on Unsplash

Opportunities for charitable giving have long been plentiful here in America. We may not have the social safety nets of Canada or Europe, but we excel in the field of philanthropy at scale. And you don’t need to be able to point to your last name on a venerable ivy-covered building to participate! Part of why Americans are awesome at raising relief funds is our understanding that every dollar helps - to the tune of $499.33 billion dollars donated to charity in 2022!

According to The Fiscal Times, a simple donation of $25, or about three months of the streaming service Disney+, helps the Against Malaria Foundation set up five mosquito nets in parts of Africa ravaged by sickness. These nets are crucial for stopping the fatal disease in its tracks. And The Heifer Project International can take your humble $20 bill - about the cost of a trip through the drive-through - and provide an indigent South American family with a flock of chicks. This provides meat, eggs, and money as the chicks grow up, reproduce, and are sold - not to mention the many goods for which they can be traded. It’s life-changing! Here in the States, where things are a little less dire for most of us, a donation of just $60 - half the cost of a year of Amazon Prime - to National Public Radio is enough to score you one of those sweet, sweet tote bags.

Right now, there are a few acute situations that will doubtless move America to open our pocketbooks: the awful plight of Maui residents as their historic city of Lahaina burns, the ongoing needs of brave Ukrainian refugees under attack by Russia, and even embattled former President Donald Trump’s legal costs. (Nope, I'm not linking to it.)

Where we aren’t so good, though, is with helping individual people.

Intellectually, we know that respected relief organizations like the Red Cross or the Salvation Army represent individual people in need. But we don’t like giving directly to them: we want the respectable front provided by the charity. We trust that our donations will filter down to those that really need help, and that this help will come in an appropriate form.

It’s little wonder. In a country where poverty is often considered a moral failing, rather than one result of the way our society is set up, we can’t be too surprised that few people want to give $20 of their precious latte money to that haggard, filthy man standing at the intersection with a sign. Or the unkempt, sunburnt elderly woman pushing a shopping cart full of what looks like junk down a busy commercial street. Heck, it’s getting hard to find someone willing to pull over to the side of the road and offer assistance when a car sits on the shoulder, its hazard lights blinking. We’re more concerned about getting where we’re going, or we tell ourselves, “I couldn’t do anything to help, anyway,” even though we may have AAA, water bottles, or a phone that’s charged.

I'm sorry to say that I've done that myself: kept driving, even though I could get AAA out for a tow. And what a shame that is.

The issue came to a head for me last week, when a woman in one of my local community groups posted an appeal for help. She’d encountered a couple traveling, who broke down on their way to their daughter’s wedding out of state. They’d started out with what they believed was a working vehicle fit for a road trip, only to break down in the Mojave desert in 110° heat. They had their dog with them, and if they didn't find decent shelter, they'd die.

Photo by Spencer Davis on Unsplash

The previous day, the community had come together to help a young mother and her two children. She'd been very sick, and the highway patrol picked her up and dropped her off, inexplicably, at a Denny's. By the time I saw the post, the nicest hotel in town had donated a room, along with complimentary access to its award-winning restaurant. Medical attention followed, and the family was soon on their way again. So I was hopeful that we would rally to help this couple. I couldn't stop thinking of their daughter in Wisconsin, who was holding her wedding date until her parents could arrive.

Regretting my own choice to drive past a motorist in potential trouble, I asked how I could help. The group’s early consensus was that the most helpful thing would be to raise funds for a train trip to Wisconsin, with added fees for the dog.

It sounded perfectly reasonable to me! At 9:00 at night, I drove half an hour to drop off $40 toward the effort.

Now, at this point, are you smirking at me? Are you thinking, “Sucker! You got scammed!” If so, you're not the only one.

Arriving home, I pored through the group's posts for more details on the situation. Almost everyone who commented used the opportunity to poke holes in the couple's story:

“They'd have spent that much in gas driving all the way to Wisconsin! Why don't they have the money?"

"Who leaves for a road trip without getting their vehicle serviced?”

“Why'd they just sit in their broken-down car waiting to die? Why wouldn't they go knock on someone's door?"

"Why doesn't their daughter pay for their transportation?”

And on and on and on.

I didn't have the answers. If I were to guess, though, I'd suggest the following, in order:

It doesn't take $341 to drive to Wisconsin.

People on a tight budget, that's who.

Maybe they didn't know how deadly the heat here can be.

The daughter might be on a tight budget, too. Weddings aren't exactly cheap.

But not having all the answers didn't matter to me. I was well aware that this story could be a very bizarre scam. However, I didn't donate anything we couldn't lose. So I simply chose not to judge.

The next day brought a wonderful surprise. Because the couple had their dog with them, their story attracted the attention of a local rescue. They hooked the couple up with a social worker, who, in turn, secured them a hotel room for ten whole days, along with a lump sum for food and necessities. They also provided bus tickets to their daughter’s town! So although the bus didn't leave to drive that route for 10 days, the couple and their dog would be safe, cool, fed, and cared for until then.

And I was offered my $40 back.

This is not the resolution of a couple pulling a scam.

All sorts of situations like this arise. Tomorrow, a “Pack the Bus” drive will take place in my city a chance for citizens to purchase common school supplies and load them onto a bus, from which they'll be distributed to families who can't just waltz out with the school supply list and buy everything. You better believe I'll be there with notebooks, folders, and pens.

I can hear the reactions now:

“Why wouldn't parents be able to throw $40 or $60 at school supplies? It's not like it's a big surprise that school starts in the fall.”

“Mom probably smokes, right? Dad probably drinks.”

“It's California, so all their free money probably goes right to the marijuana dispensary. People should have to apply for a license to reproduce!”

Judgments like these are a very convenient way to help ourselves feel superior, even just for a fleeting minute. The only problem is that we don't know what's going on in other people's lives.

We don't know if, in fact, all their free time and money goes to caring for a sick spouse or an elderly parent. We don't know if every spare dollar goes toward getting out from underneath student loans, undertaken so that a family can be provided for in the long term. Or maybe one of the street musicians you'll pass has figured out that busking is actually more lucrative than playing one wedding at a time.

And, of course, yes: it's entirely possible that some people who are asking for help from their communities are irresponsible. It's very possible that they struggle with mental health issues or with addiction. They are not the blameless, tragic victims we are most comfortable helping.

If these objections sound like your own - if you were one of the ones clucking in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina that it's silly to live in New Orleans, one of America's oldest and culturally richest cities, while refusing to text a $10 donation that would provide a displaced family with safe drinking water - then I'm going to say something. I rarely let pass my lips:

Check your privilege.

My hat is off to you if you've never made a mistake. If you've never learned a lesson the hard way or been given a hand up, then you are truly remarkable, and I expect great things from you. Like a cure for cancer, or the brokering of world peace.

You don't have to give money to individual people. Heck, you don't have to give money to charitable institutions! You don't have to round up the change on your purchase to send the change to St. Jude's Children's Hospital. If you have the money when presented with an opportunity, I confess I don't understand why you wouldn't, but I'm not in charge of your money. You are.

What no one is in charge of, though, is whether any other person is deserving of help. Don't give, if you're terrified that someone might spend your donation in a way you disapprove of. But keep your judgment to yourself. And if you can spare a ten or a twenty, and you don't need a detailed accounting of where it went, go ahead and give.

If Sunday is an important day in your religion, consider whether Jesus went around with a detailed checklist vetting potential recipients of his help, or whether he helped and gave in good faith. I'd advise anyone to emulate him!

What you're really giving is dignity. And that's priceless.