A Small Morning Moment That Changed Everything:

One morning, I rushed out to a small bagel shop near my home. From a distance, I noticed something on the other side of the road—just a shape at first. But as I drew closer, I realized it wasn’t an object at all. It was a woman.

She stood alone beside a shopping cart overflowing with her belongings, clutching her hand in pain, tears streaming down her face. In that moment, my heart broke. I had only gone out to get breakfast for my daughter, yet seeing her standing there shook me to my core. I couldn’t just drive away.

I called 911, explained what I saw, and the gentleman on the phone assured me that help was on the way. On my return, I brought a bagel, a cup of coffee, and a bottle of water. But she was gone. I placed the small meal beside her cart and prayed she would find it when she returned.

For years, this has been my reality: stopping at traffic lights, driving through busy intersections, seeing people holding signs that say, “Hungry, please help.” Each time, I do what I can—a few dollars, a bottle of water, a small act of kindness. But every time I drive away, my heart feels heavy, carrying a guilt that what I did was not enough. I want them to know: Your life matters. We see you, we care for you, and you belong to this society with us.

As I drove home that morning, a flood of thoughts washed over me. There has to be a better way to take care of people like her.

I remembered a conversation with a friend who works for the city. He once explained how Houston’s public transportation system works: for every dollar it costs to operate buses and trains, riders only pay about thirty cents. The remaining cost comes from taxpayers—people like me, even those who may never step foot on a bus.

That thought stayed with me. And it sparked a simple yet powerful question:

What if we created a similar system dedicated to ending homelessness?

What if we had a small, city-wide tax—just like the public transportation tax—used solely for homeless support and recovery? A tax that every household contributes to without even noticing, yet one that could transform thousands of lives?

With stable funding, our city could finally provide real solutions:

– Safe, reliable shelter
– Mental health support
– Addiction recovery programs
– Job training and skill development
– Long-term guidance for reintegration into society

Everyone has a story. No child grows up dreaming of living on the streets. Their parents once hoped for them the same way I hope for my daughters—to live with dignity, to realize their potential, to contribute meaningfully to the world.

I am not here to debate how or why someone becomes homeless. What matters is helping them stand again. What matters is giving them a chance to rebuild their lives with purpose, stability, and hope.

Just as Houston collects a tax to support public transportation—something many pay without even realizing—we could establish a Homeless Care Tax, a tiny shared contribution with immeasurable impact. This isn’t just policy. This is compassion. This is humanity.

And from an Islamic perspective, it is also worship.

Our faith teaches us that “Allah continues to help His servant as long as His servant is helping his brother.” The Prophet ﷺ reminded us that the most beloved people to Allah are those who bring benefit to others, and that easing someone’s hardship is greater than years of worship. Supporting the vulnerable is not merely a civic responsibility—it is a spiritual duty. It is answering the call of our Creator, who commands us to stand with the poor, the struggling, and the forgotten.

Every homeless individual carries a story, and none of them imagined they would end up where they are. Helping them is not just honoring their humanity—it is honoring Allah’s command to show mercy. The Qur’an says:

“And what will make you know what the steep path is?
It is to free a soul from hardship,
to feed others on a day of hunger…”
—Qur’an 90:12–14

A Homeless Care Tax is exactly that steep path—the path of courage, compassion, and generosity.

This is the kind of change that shapes societies. The kind of mercy that lifts communities. The kind of legacy we would be proud to leave for our children: a city that did not turn away from suffering, but rose together to heal it.

When we lift others, Allah lifts us.
When we kindle hope in someone’s heart, Allah brings hope into our own lives.
And when we restore someone’s dignity, we build a city—and a future—that reflects the very best of who we are.

And I believe that no matter what religion one follows, they all echo this same message. As Mawlana Rumi beautifully said:

Every religion has love, but love has no religion.

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