I don’t doubt that there are many who would love to do what I’m doing. Not necessarily the walking from one home to another bit, but the bit about taking some time and space to decompress and give life a fresh perspective. I’m fortunate, and I’m grateful.

Whilst there have been choices to make it happen, and that’s always some part of it, I know that my choices have been from the bedrock of relative stability and abundance of resources. I could not imagine doing what I’m doing without the emotional, physical, financial, and spiritual support that I have.

As a barrier to deepening

I’ve been keenly aware of this long before the journey began. And everytime I encounter a new person on this journey I worry that they might see only the privilege and little else, dismissing any deeper reason I may have for journeying on foot to Croydon.

And if I get a chance to talk, I might ham up the south London accent, in the hope that they at least know I’m not ‘that’ privileged, as well as highlight that an important part of my journey is to highlight the vulgarities of our economic system. Maybe they’ll see that my journey is as much about them as it is me.

However, that my journey oozes privilege is something that’s become more present in my thoughts ever since I reached Preston and Greater Manchester a couple of weeks ago. Although there are positive things happening in both cities, there are more than a few pockets of concentrated deprivation.

Increasing relevance?

As I’ve passed through some places, I notice the struggles, disconcerted by some of the things I’ve witnessed – the subtle and not so subtle violences, delapitated shop fronts, or poor housing conditions. They are unlike the leafier places that I passed through at the beginning of my journey, where the WELLBYs are high and my presence was unlikely to disturb anyone too much.

Safe to say I have not been using my #JourneyAboutHome sign on the back of my pack lately. I’ve got no problem walking through most places, but sometimes it feels better to remain inconspicuous. The opportunity gap seems too high.

In other perceptions

On the flip side, the sign is partly there to counteract perceptions of the opposite sort. There are times when I’ve walked through places and, rather than worry that I ooze privilege, I worry that a quick glance has me dismissed as someone that is without a home, in desperate need, and best avoided. Especially in those leafier parts.

Some people seem wary of the strange man with a large backpack. Unable to really see the me behind it. I’ve felt that a lot – nothing specific but I have sensed fears when I have initiated conversations. I had hoped the sign might counter some of those perceptions and illustrate that I am ‘doing a thing’ and safe. But I don’t think it does. People see and quickly categorise. It’s safer and easier that way for many humans, and I understand. I do it too.

But sublime connections still come…

Besides, all the best connections on this journey have come from those that approach from the front, with the interested passerby perhaps inquiring into the size of my backpack, and about me as a human and how I came to be before them. There seems no judgement from them either way in these most magical of connections – two humans sharing a moment, appreciating that it is a unique and special one, like all the moments we will ever have. And then they both proceed forward on their respective paths, altogether slightly richer for that chance moment of openness.

***Thank you for reading this article. It’s part of a series of blog posts that I’ve been writing to share my journey on foot from Edinburgh to Croydon. If you’d like to find out more then go to this page.