Concrete Pillows
In New York City
by Herb Bardavid
This Is MoMo
This is MoMo, pronounced "Moe Moe." I first encountered her near the entrance to Central Park at Fifth Avenue and 79th Street, where she held a cardboard sign describing her unemployment situation. My first assumption, which was mistaken, was that she was homeless. In fact, MoMo is a trained chef who attended the Culinary Institute of New York and has lived in her own apartment in the Bronx for the past seven years. She is 36 years old, single, and said she has little interest in pursuing a romantic relationship.
For the past five years, MoMo worked at a high-end Manhattan restaurant, where she developed a strong record of experience, reliability, and professionalism. Several months ago, however, the restaurant began experiencing a decline in business. As revenue fell, management decided to reduce staff, and the chefs were among those affected by the cutbacks.
Among the restaurant's three female chefs, MoMo had the second-longest tenure and more training and qualifications than the other two. Despite her experience and what she described as an outstanding employment record, she was the only chef selected for dismissal. MoMo also noted that she was the only person of color among the three. From her perspective, these facts left little room for doubt: she believed racism played a role in her being laid off.
MoMo has now been unemployed for two years. Her unemployment insurance has expired, and she currently relies on welfare. Between those two and the modest savings she set aside while working, she has managed, until now, to pay the rent on her one-bedroom apartment. However, the high cost of groceries often leaves her going two or three days without a meal. "Today is the first time I have ever done this."
She said standing on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign asking for money was more than just embarrassing; it is demeaning. MoMo is a proud woman with a profession, and until this point in her life, she had always been independent.
MoMo grew up in New York City and speaks of living here with deep affection. Yet she said she has never felt as vulnerable as she does now. Although she has searched for work every day since being laid off, she worries that if she does not find employment soon, she could lose her apartment and become homeless.
My question is: Does racism contribute to homelessness? MoMo's story suggests that it just might.
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