Written by Claire Pham
Edited by Mae Ngo
Cover designed by Rachel Hong
Growing up in an upper-middle class household, it was commonplace for my parents to tell me to stay away from certain people. To be brutally honest, they would have me steer clear of homeless people, addicts, and other characters on the street who they perceived as “shady.” The fact that other people reacted similarly when walking past less fortunate individuals further normalized that behavior in my mind. However, nothing could have prepared me for the issue of addiction to later hit so close to home, making it impossible to ignore.
Although I spent an extensive amount of time away from my cousin Timothy due to his military service, we updated each other frequently through FaceTime and were involved in nearly every aspect of each other’s lives. He had always been the “black sheep,” as his sudden departure for the Marines not only broke the consecutive record of doctors in our line of grandchildren but also antagonized my aunt. Contrary to the opinions of my disapproving family, Timothy was my role model and best friend. So when he immediately cut off all contact after coming home from his second tour to Afghanistan, I had a suspicion that something was horribly wrong.
I was in the dark about his situation until months later, when my parents notified me that Timothy had been hospitalized and later arrested after overdosing on opioids. My entire family ostracized him completely because of his reportedly “destructive behavior,” and I did not speak to him for years afterward.
Ironically, in 2021, I embarked on a year-long service project to investigate the root causes of substance abuse in Santa Clara County. This issue has become so severe to the point where lawmakers deem it to be a public health crisis. Although a report from several years prior indicates that substance abuse deaths in the County steadily decreased from 2014 to 2017, new concerns about more lethal drugs such as fentanyl have spiked sharply during this past year. As of 2021, there are approximately two drug-related deaths per day in San Francisco with many being disproportionately homeless. The rapid spread of fentanyl across the West Coast increased drug abuse mortality rates by a staggering 50 percent from 2019 to 2020, reversing hopes for a halt to the epidemic in the near future.
What I found most surprising in my research was that lawmakers are now looking towards rehabilitative solutions to combat the crisis at hand. It is no secret that the United States possesses a notable history of cracking down on drug-related crimes, and in Santa Clara County specifically, the universal solution to getting drugs off the street was to over police and imprison addicts, many of whom were mentally ill. Albeit in more recent years, there seems to be a reversal trend in the County’s approach to remediating poverty and addiction. Its efforts at rehabilitative justice have been made evident through the adoption of policies such as Laura’s Law, which requires drug courts to connect mentally ill people without access to treatment services to supportive programs and facilities. In this new chapter for our County, legislators have now seemed to embrace the necessity of recovery over incarceration.
When I sat down to interview Public Defender Benjamin Stewart for the AwareFul podcast, however, I discovered that reception towards these new policies has been less than welcoming. Many citizens are not open to the idea of addicts wandering freely on the street and certainly do not want their taxpayer money going towards these treatment programs. “A lot of people think, ‘Well, I don’t want to spend my money on this treatment program. We’re offering drug dealers a break now?’” Stewart spoke from the perspective of the public majority, adding that the District Attorney’s office was extremely hesitant to adopt the approach due to the inevitable backlash they would receive. “But there’s a lot of articles and studies about this…treatment groups will invariably have less recidivism. They’ll commit less crimes in the future and they’ll be arrested less times,” says Stewart, testifying to the effectiveness of rehabilitation in reducing drug-related crimes.
Ultimately, my purpose going into this project was to pinpoint the root cause that is perpetuating the substance abuse epidemic and how it necessitates rehabilitation as a solution. The statistics are important to recognize flaws in the current system of care, but are nevertheless meaningless if we forget there are people suffering beyond the numbers. I knew that identifying the source of the problem was single-handedly the most important step in understanding this complex issue and even saving human lives.
Several months ago, I visited the drug department of the Santa Clara Superior Court to observe a typical day of hearings. For the next three hours, I watched people from all walks of life report about their current situation and rehabilitative journey. Some were young. Some were veterans. Some were living in worse socioeconomic conditions than others. The unifying factor amongst all of them, however, was pain and a desire to heal that pain. Every person that walked in the courtroom shared some trauma or setback that caused them to turn to drugs and alcohol. Pain looked different on every individual, but it was pain that drove all of them to destructive behavior.
I urge you to look at how our society currently treats the homeless, mentally ill, and addicts. The stigma that surrounds them prompts us to divert our attention away from the problems of poverty and drug abuse, leaving them to fester for future generations to handle. Ignoring the issues at hand only prevents victims from receiving human connection that is essential to healing. As the fentanyl crisis in our own County continues to skyrocket, education and activism become more important than ever to combat misconceptions and stigma surrounding addiction.
Whenever I reflect on the day my cousin overdosed, I always wonder what my family should have done differently. Timothy’s mental health was visibly worsening during his time in the Marines, yet nobody directly confronted his source of pain. And when the culmination of his trauma resulted in him overdosing, his friends and family scattered and excommunicated him for years when he needed them the most.
I had not spoken again with Timothy until very recently over the phone, when he told me that he had been sober for three years, got engaged, and was working towards a bachelor’s in engineering. We both cried and laughed for hours.
Having human connections is essential to recovering from trauma and pain. Now you can spread that message to someone who needs to hear it more (and be there for them as well).
Comments