Philly teens have become desensitized to the epidemic of drugs, homelessness

Recently, I ran to the El train station on 15th Street after being caught in the cold rain after school, feeling relieved as I stepped onto the train platform. When the train finally came, I made my way through the heavy crowd of other students and midafternoon travelers to the inside of the car and found a seat, relieved to rest after a long day of classes.

But the train didn’t leave the station. I could hear some of the students around me talking about what was going on, and someone mentioned there was a man in the next car who was unresponsive. One student walked over to investigate; she soon came back but said little about it. Just acted like it was no big deal.

Then an announcement came over the train saying we all had to exit as a result of a medical emergency. As I shuffled out of the car along with the large crowd, I caught a glimpse of the man in the next car over, lying on the floor with a needle sticking out of his arm. The crowd started whispering, “I think he OD’d,” and, “Is he dead?”

I texted my friends to tell them what happened. The conversation lasted about two seconds before we went to talk about something else. I don’t know what happened to the man after I left, but all I can remember is the paramedics surrounding him while people urgently left the train station.

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As for me, I walked in the heavy rain to the 21 bus stop on 16th and Walnut and got on the crowded bus to go home.

When I got there, my outfit drenched in rain, I walked up the stairs to talk to my mother in her bedroom. I told her about the man on the train, and she asked me how I felt about what I saw. That was the moment I realized there was something wrong.

I had no reaction to what happened. It’s not because I have no compassion or sympathy for people who are suffering; it’s because I’m so used to seeing them all the time.

For two years, I’ve taken the El to and from school every day. In that time, I’ve seen people passed out on the train. I’ve seen people do drugs on the train. I’ve seen people fighting each other on the train.

More times than I can count, I’ve walked past someone who is homeless on my way to school or to hang out with friends. It feels normal to me and my friends to step over a syringe on the street, because that’s how we grew up.

But it’s not normal.

It’s not normal for teenagers to be exposed to people who are so deep in their addiction that they can barely stand. It’s not normal to see a man with a needle in his arm who is unresponsive on the train, and not have a reaction.

I had no reaction to what happened.

I know it’s not the fault of the people who are struggling with homelessness or addiction. The problem is that they do not have any resources. There are never enough beds in shelters, and local organizations are always overworked and underresourced, waiting for public funding that sometimes doesn’t come. And there aren’t many other places for people to go; a lot of the benches downtown now have bars put in place so people don’t sleep on them.

The man lying on the floor of the train car that rainy day showed me how desensitized I — and so many other people my age — have become to the human suffering we see in Philadelphia every day.

As teenagers, we’re learning how the world works; every day I ride the El, I learn that human suffering is all around us, and most people deal with it by ignoring it and moving on. Are these the lessons you want the next generation to learn?

I don’t want to have no reaction when someone is passed out on the train. I don’t want anyone who sees it to shrug and move on. This lack of reaction reflects a broader societal problem and should serve as a wake-up call urging us to reconsider our values and priorities.

It is not normal for teenagers — or anyone — to be accustomed to these distressing scenes without a genuine emotional response. It’s not normal, and we must do better.

Raegan Farlow is in the 12th grade at a Philadelphia public school.