Moment of truth: what's your first reaction when you see a homeless man? Do you immediately lock your doors? Look away and avoid eye contact? And what is your first impression of the often dirty, hungry, desperate man? Pity? Superiority? Anger, even? At least 25% of the homeless population has a serious mental illness, but 100% have names and birthdays and parents and hopes and dreams and pasts, so let me introduce you to a fascinating and brilliant man who has just recently overcome his homelessness- Dr. Jesse Chatmon. Yes, I said Doctor Jesse Chatmon, a stereotype-basher if I've ever met one. A real life stigma buster! Dr. Jesse and I met at the MS Leadership Academy, and from the first time I heard him speak I was captivated and shocked by his unapologetic honesty, intriguing observations, gentle humor, and surprisingly confidant dignity. Upon my request he shared with me his life's story and gave me permission to pass it on to you. Dr. Jesse was born 59 years ago and grew up in Atlanta, spending much of his time playing piano and worshipping in the Southern Baptist church. The National Science Foundation gave the 16-year-old HS graduate an academic scholarship to Howard University in Washington, DC, where he chose to study his passion, mathematics. Drafted to Vietnam immediately after receiving his bachelor's degree, he served as one of the relatively few black officers, facing fierce resistance by his white subordinates. He said he got around this resistance by becoming their friend. Like many veterans, he is still haunted by the 62 men he killed, and suffers, believing the deaths were unjustified. He developed PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and also began having the first symptoms of the schizophrenia that would plague him for the rest of his life, affecting his relationships, career, and sense of self. Once home from the war, he married his college sweetheart, and they both returned to Howard University to pursue their Masters' degrees, his in math and hers in psychology. Along with his PTSD and schizophrenia came visual and auditory hallucinations, and the usually kind Dr. Jesse began to attack Asians on the street, unable to distinguish them from the Asians he was instructed to kill in the war. To cope with these voices in his head, he began (like so many others) to drink and do drugs while still functioning in school, eventually getting his Masters degree and taking a high school teaching position in NY. It was during this time when he began to wake up in the middle of the night with his hands around his wife's neck, choking her in his sleep. They went back to Howard once again, Dr. Jesse obtaining his PhD in mathematics, and his wife graduating in psychiatry. His violent attacks persisted, and they eventually decided to separate for her safety, though Dr. Jesse continued to love her passionately, believing they would one day reunite. He took a sabbatical after the separation and began talk therapy with a psychiatrist twice a week for four years, getting on Haldol reluctantly, only after reading the drug trials. He believes, "armed with the proper information the brain can heal itself." Dr. Jesse eventually went back to teaching at a public school in Brooklyn, NY, and started his own internet-based computer company, writing custom programs and building computer infrastructures. A firm believer in the important need for black people to learn IT skills, he began lecturing on the black college circuit. His life and career success came to a screeching halt when he found out his wife had died, his best friend and fierce supporter. He suddenly developed a stutter, and told me, "my brain said I had nothing worth saying. I shook my fist at God and man, and allowed my disease to consume me. I didn't care if I lived or died." So he started "bumming around the country, living with friends I'd made over the years, taking odd jobs, still keeping the computer company going." Back in Atlanta he started working with a nonprofit organization which trains persons with mental illnesses for jobs, then Katrina struck. He graduated the last class, and spent his money on a bus ticket to Biloxi, thinking he could strike it rich reconstructing computer networks at casinos, etc. This turned out not to be the case. Now he was out of meds and completely broke, so on a suggestion from a man for which he had repaired a computer in the Salvation Army, he came to Jackson. No one would hire him to do the very work in which he is a specialist, just odd jobs here and there repairing a computer or creating a company's website. So Dr. Jesse became one of the surprisingly many homeless men in Jackson, MS, hungry and ignored, all the while having a better education than the vast majority of the privileged who snubbed him. Discovering the location of the MS Dept. of Mental Health, Dr. Jesse walked in and asked to speak to the person in charge, and eventually got to talk to Aurora Baugh. She helped him get into a group home facility, which he is currently managing, and they have become fast friends. Everyone I know who has gotten the chance to actually talk one-on-one with Dr. Jesse will tell you what an amazing person he is, how impressive his intelligence is. And he is also a very kind-hearted man, a fatherly type, calm and reassuring. In my own struggle with mental illness I have also lost people I loved, lost the career I dreamed of, and lost all my self-esteem. I have not, however, lost housing, or I, too, would be one of the one-in-four you see and ignore every day. When you look into Dr. Jesse's face, what stares back at you, after the years of schizophrenia and its torturous hallucinations, violence-inducing delusions (remember the Asians and his hands around his wife's throat at night,) poverty and homelessness, is not what you expect the face of a PhD in mathematics to look like. But it is, indeed, the face of brilliance and determination, the face of a man who fights the stigma of mental illness every day by getting back up, dusting himself off, and trying again. And I am very proud to call him my friend.
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