Underground Good: Monique Welin
“At the heart of why I do what I do is my mom. She was 14 when she had me and she got no services. She tried to ask for help, but she was underserved and later got arrested for stealing food. She was put in a juvenile detention center and then she had me. I would say for the first 10 years of my life, we slept on couches. I remember falling asleep in my mom’s VW Bug and counting all the little holes in the fabric of the roof, just like I was counting sheep. I was cold, I was hungry, and it was hard on my mother to hear her children cry.”

Ed Note: This Opinion piece is part of our new series, Underground Good, which focuses on providing a window into the mindsets of ordinary people doing good work in their community. It’s written by sociologist and educator Sharon Brisolara. You can find the rest of our Underground Good series here. Want to nominate someone you see doing good? You can do that here.
In the first days of the nominating process, Monique Welin received nominations from two individuals, both of whom described themselves as having “politics” different from hers. One nominator wrote, “Her and I disagree about a lot, but she has a heart and is authentic and passionate and gives her time for a cause I also believe in. If I can be inspired by her, I think anyone can.” It’s a powerful acknowledgment, and one that speaks to what can be gained by not allowing politics, personal differences, or assumptions to deter us from seeing good.
In our conversation, Monique shares how her own lived experience as an unsheltered child guides her to provide food and other resources to people living without housing. She describes her work as meaningful, even when it feels like it “breaks her heart”.
You were nominated for Underground Good because of your involvement with a group that provides meals weekly for unsheltered community members. What was it like to learn that you had been nominated?
It really made my heart feel whole to know that people appreciate it. I know the people we engage with on Saturdays appreciate it; but the fact that somebody else appreciated it enough to nominate me . . . I literally was shaking in my boots. It was a very warm, cool, fuzzy feeling.
Can you tell our readers more about what happens at Martin Luther King Park on Saturdays and who is involved?
I call us a motley crew of individuals. We have no church affiliation. I started initially with Skippy, Danny Abbott, and Jerry Harrell going out to Martin Luther King Park on Saturdays to provide food. The number of people varies, because individuals who are underserved and unsheltered sometimes come and sometimes don’t. At the beginning of the month, right after people have gotten their checks from the state, they tend to take care of themselves. They are able to buy food and hygiene products and sometimes stay a night or two in hotels. Towards the end of the month, they come to us more often. So at the beginning of the month, we might have 20 people, but by the end of the month, when people run out of money, we’ve had close to 200. We know the dates people receive checks and we prepare accordingly.
The project started with Jerry and Skippy, and then I got involved. Since then, we’ve had at least twelve to fifteen solid individuals helping those who cannot help themselves. It really is an eclectic group of incredible individuals. It’s not just me, it’s Stacy, it’s Bev, it’s Denise, Cindy, Jerry, Skippy, Mark Mezzano, Kevin Crye, Robert Sid . . . there a lot of people involved. We’re a collaborative group doing the best we can.
It really does warm my heart and makes me feel so good. These people are my friends now, and I appreciate that they come out every single Saturday with us. We’ve provided clothing, food that people can cook at their camps, hygiene products, and haircuts. We have a gentleman who, the last two weeks, has provided sweatshirts, hoodies, socks, mittens, beanies and food inside of a waterproof bag. We have had intake workers and Peer Support Specialists from HHSA (the Health and Human Services Agency) who come, and we have hand-washing stations, towels, and trash bags. We used to provide homemade meals.
What motivates you to do this work? What calls you to remain involved?
Thank you for saying called, because it’s a calling, it really is. I feel compelled. I was in emergency services for 20 years. I ended up becoming a paramedic and was fortunate to be a flight paramedic. I saw the need even back then.
At the heart of why I do what I do is my mom. She was fourteen when she had me and she got no services. She tried to ask for help, but she was underserved and later got arrested for stealing food. She was put in a juvenile detention center and then she had me. I would say for the first 10 years of my life, we slept on couches. I remember falling asleep in my mom’s VW Bug and counting all the little holes in the fabric of the roof, just like I was counting sheep. I was cold, I was hungry, and it was hard on my mother to hear her children cry. When I was younger, we literally stayed on Skid Row for a while, on church pews, anywhere we could get into the warm and out of the cold. So, really, the heart of what I do is my own struggles that I’m fighting against. And I don’t want anybody else to struggle like my mother did.
At the heart of why I do what I do is my mom. She was 14 when she had me and she got no services. She tried to ask for help, but she was underserved and later got arrested for stealing food. She was put in a juvenile detention center and then she had me. I would say for the first 10 years of my life we slept on couches. I remember falling asleep in my mom’s VW Bug and counting all the little holes in the fabric of the roof, just like I was counting sheep. I was cold, I was hungry, and it was hard on my mother to hear her children cry.
Monique Welin
How do people learn about this effort?
I’ve been literally speaking up at public county meetings for six years. When Kevin Crye started running for District One, he came up to me and said, ‘I hear you speak about mental health and underserved individuals. What do you do?’ And I said, ‘Well, if you’re interested, come on out and see.’ He talked to Mark Mezzano, too, and Mark and Kevin have been there every weekend since. Otherwise, it has literally been word of mouth and continuing to be consistent and be out there so people see that we walk the walk.
You mentioned that you used to provide home-cooked meals.
Yes. The change started after our good friend Marv wanted to see if we could get keys to the MLK public bathroom. We are feeding underserved, unsheltered individuals and we were thinking it would be a cool thing to let them utilize a bathroom while they’re here. I guess that request got the city’s attention about what we were offering, which is fine. We had to have a meeting with Parks and Recreation and with the county, the person who does permits for events with food, just like the Asphalt Cowboys do. The county just wants to make sure that nobody gets sick from what we do, which is a good thing.
No matter what, we’ll deal with whatever we gotta do because we know what we’re doing is a good thing and we want to do right by everybody. So we’re no longer allowed to make food from home and we had to come up with a set menu. This weekend, I believe we’re doing chili, last week was spaghetti, and the week before it was sausage, biscuits, and gravy.
Now we have a church that comes out to help with those meals. Doni Chamberlain did an article on what we do at MLK and that article led a local church to come out and start helping. They told us that they’d been moved by the article and wanted to help us. They have a certified kitchen and their whole congregation is behind us. I got tingles right now just thinking about it.
Who funds the food provided?
Skippy brings food from food banks and also buys chips and crackers and donuts that are easy for people to carry with them. Mark buys food to share and I buy food. I go to Winco or Walmart and do the best I can, trying to not spend over forty or fifty bucks a week, because I can’t afford much more than that. I don’t personally like to ask for money because I don’t want anybody questioning impropriety, so I have no problem donating my own money.
Recently, a gentleman named Christian walked up to me and said, ‘I really want to help you.’ He gave us three gift cards, one was for Safeway for a hundred and fifty dollars, and that’s what we have used these last few weeks to feed people. And then he gave a gift card to Bev and Stacy so they can get hygiene products, socks, soap, and shampoo.
If people do want to help what can they do?
I think the gift card, for Safeway or Dollar Tree, would be a good thing because that means that we can purchase the appropriate foods for the menus. I don’t like receiving cash. Safeway has a kitchen that has been certified and they have helped support us in the past, so Safeway cards would be good. People could also provide cans of chili, spaghetti sauce or whatever, and we can take it from there.
If somebody wanted to provide socks, sleeping bags, tarps, tents . . . We’re really trying to get people into services; the bigger issue is we don’t want to enable people. We want to offer a hand up, not a handout. But all the while, a lot of these people’s tents are old and broken down.
What are some of the challenges you face doing this work?
It’s emotional. It’s heartbreaking. A lot of people get angry when they see the trash and the plight in camps where people who are unsheltered live. I don’t get angry. And on Saturdays, I can’t cry because that’s not the time to do it. Sometimes I make a joke just to get through that emotional response. But, yeah, it’s absolutely heartbreaking.
We have one lady who comes. She’s got cats and she did an amazing job building a chariot and a big cage for them. They sleep in her tent and when I see the love she has for her babies, her companions, it breaks my heart. She has paranoid schizophrenia, so as far as she’s concerned all of her actions and her behaviors are normal. To her, we’re the weird ones. I know if she knew better she would want to take care of her animals. They snuggle up with her at night, so she’s kept warm by her kitties.
There’s a lot of drug addiction, too. When my mom was twenty-eight, she had her own issues with heroin and alcohol. Now I’m seeing sixteen-, eighteen-, twenty-two-year-old kids that come to the park and they are on drugs. Younger people are showing up at the park with no shoes on, no shirts, begging for socks, begging for food and they’ll tell me ‘I haven’t eaten in four days.’ They’re malnourished, dehydrated. We want to give them some water and we want to take care of them.
There’s a lot of hard work involved in what you do.
Yes, there is. There is a lot of hard work but when you love your job, it really makes you feel whole. I was a child homeless with my mother and, as a child, I didn’t understand what was happening, but literally it was almost like a train wreck happened in front of me. Now I do understand, and now I can take a stance to do something for individuals who cannot help themselves.
Is there anything else that motivates you to keep going or sustains you when you’re tired?
That is a seriously awesome question, because there are times I will come home and I will fall to my knees and cry. I will cry for the things I’ve seen. I will cry for the things I could not do. I will cry for what I hope I can do in the future. I will cry because I fought so hard to try and help people.
What motivates me the most is when my husband gives me a kiss at night and says, ‘Babe, you did good.’ And when my son Lincoln tells me he’s proud of me and tells his friends at school what I do. People literally tell me, ‘You’re amazing’ and I’m like, ‘Nah it’s not amazing it’s just, you know, it’s what we do.’ I kind of make it a matter of fact. But my children . . . my children who’ve never known homelessness, who’ve never known cold nights unless we were camping, my children are my biggest motivators. And, of course, the people that come to the park who help me help those who cannot help themselves, they are huge motivators too.
That is a seriously awesome question, because there are times I will come home and I will fall to my knees and cry. I will cry for the things I’ve seen. I will cry for the things I could not do. I will cry for what I hope I can do in the future. I will cry because I fought so hard to try and help people.
Monique Welin
Was there anyone in your life who’s inspired you?
This might sound odd, but Abraham Lincoln does. I call him my melancholy man because he’s had his depressive moments, his melancholy, but he still rose up to fight for those who could not fight for themselves. Also, when I was a little girl, I remember watching TV and professional football player Walter Payton was feeding people in a homeless shelter. And I thought, that could have been me if I’d been in Chicago. The camera crew showed up and Walter Payton was like, ‘I’m sorry, what are you doing here?’ And then he said, ‘Excuse me. When I play football and I’m on the field, I’m all yours. But this is my time to do what I know I need to do, so I’m gonna politely ask you to leave.’ And when I saw him say that I absolutely fell in love and I understood why they called him Sweetness.
And my husband inspires me. My husband is my best friend, he is my biggest supporter and motivator. We’ve been together for almost twenty-eight years.
What’s your definition of doing good? What does that mean to you?
To not do harm and to try to help society prosper. For me, to do good, is to be good. To do good is to have an altruistic, agape approach, one that is coming from a genuine place.
What have you learned about working across differences?
When I was a medic, I would have to work with a lot of different agencies. Oftentimes, you tend to be the boss of the truck, but you may not be the boss at the scene. There are times when it’s proper and appropriate to step up and there’s also times when it’s okay to take a step back because somebody else is clearly the chief of the situation.
I’m okay with that, but I also try to do what’s right in my mind. It’s like, if you see something, say something. I am okay with everybody sharing their opinion as long as it’s peacefully. I don’t like violence. I don’t like confrontation. I can’t stand when the vibe becomes dangerous, so I try never to let a situation get to that point.
I actually like working with people who don’t think like me. I like to be skeptical, to take in the information; that helps me parlay my thoughts differently. I love listening to somebody who may believe in something totally different than me. We can just sit down and talk peacefully about the situation at hand. I believe we can compromise and come to some sort of solution. And if we don’t leave with a solution, we can come back to find one. I’m always for compromise and understanding. I would say I don’t have enemies per se. I always try to find a potential friend in every single soul.
“I would like to see a lot more love, compassion, and understanding. Not everybody is fortunate. I’ll tell you, I am closer to being homeless than I am a billionaire.”
Monique Welin
If you could change or strengthen one thing in our community that would make a difference in the work that you do or for the people that you serve, what would that be?
I would hope every parent would try to teach their child resilience. That’s not necessarily realistic, but a lot of people take drugs because they’re running from something. There’s a lot of unprocessed trauma out there. The stories out there are just absolutely heartbreaking and then once you add meth or heroin, that resilience is no longer there.
I would also like to see a lot more love, compassion, and understanding. Not everybody is fortunate. I’ll tell you, I am closer to being homeless than I am a billionaire. I have more in common with a homeless individual than Elon Musk. With Elon Musk, I’d be completely uncomfortable and I wouldn’t know what to say. But if I sat in a room with my friend L, who is unsheltered, we could have a 45-minute conversation. It may not necessarily be about reality, but that’s okay. I can be there with her and talk to her and not be delusional myself.
Finally, I would say resolve. If our fellow community members understood the word resolve, and could regard life with due diligence and resilience, if more of us could live with love, compassion, and agape, I think the world would be a better place.
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