BUSH TEA AND BRASS TACKS: THE DOH’S PHILOSOPHICAL VACUUM
STRAND STREET STRIFE: Victor Cruz Jr. maneuvers to avoid debris and dust on a Frederiksted sidewalk this morning as a groundsman operates a leaf blower nearby. The candid scene on Strand Street highlights the daily environmental challenges faced by the town’s unsheltered population as St. Croix enters a month dedicated to homelessness awareness amidst a triple-digit heat index. (St. Croix Sun photo by: JOHN McCARTHY)
By JOHN McCARTHY / St. Croix Sun Investigative Reporter
FREDERIKSTED — If you want to know what the Virgin Islands Department of Health (DOH) thinks of you, read their press releases. If you want to know what they do for you, walk down Strand Street at 7:30 a.m. on a Friday.
As May 1st dawned—the dual commencement of "Mental Health Awareness Month" and "Homeless Awareness Month"—the DOH launched a PR campaign designed to soothe the soul. They spoke of "Bush Tea & Gen Z" radio shows, "meeting people where they are," and a "meaningful" donation drive for canned goods that won’t be distributed until the month is nearly over.
But while Commissioner Justa Encarnacion and her staff are "turning silence into connection" from the safety of their air-conditioned VITRACO Mall offices, the "connection" on the ground is a lot noisier.
THE DISCONNECT: Caught between the "tidy" expectations of the town and the harsh reality of the street, Victor Cruz Jr. stands his ground on Strand Street this morning. While life continues around him—including a groundsman (center) and distant figures (background) moving toward the pier—Victor remains the focal point of a town in transition. On the first day of Homeless Awareness Month, the image serves as a "receipt" of the daily struggle for space and dignity in Frederiksted. (St. Croix Sun photo by: JOHN McCARTHY)
The Eye of the Dust Storm
On Strand Street, the connection was the roar of a leaf blower.
Victor Cruz Jr., a fixture of the Frederiksted landscape, didn't have the luxury of a "safe space" or a culturally relevant radio format this morning. His "office hours" were interrupted not by a social worker offering care, but by a groundsman clearing debris.
In a series of iconic photos captured by the VIFP, Victor is seen maneuvers to avoid a cloud of dust and street grit. He isn't "experiencing homelessness" in the abstract, philosophical way the DOH describes it in their three-page memo. He is surviving a Friday in the West End.
The Selective Vision of Golden Rock
The DOH press release notes that the territory’s homeless population is "gradually increasing." They attribute this to "economic pressures" and "social factors." It’s the kind of high-level language used by people who haven't had to dodge a leaf blower while trying to eat their breakfast.
The DOH claims to be "partnering" with community organizations to provide care "while respecting individual rights and autonomy." But where was that care this morning when the heat index began its climb toward 100°F?
There was no DOH outreach van on Strand Street. There was no "Behavioral Health" professional checking on Victor’s "autonomy." There was only the "Sun News" camera and the retreating back of a groundsman who seemed more interested in the sidewalk’s aesthetics than the man standing on it.
WORLDS APART: In this wide-angle view of Strand Street, Victor Cruz Jr. (background) appears as a solitary silhouette framed by the imposing weight of Frederiksted’s business district. While the GC Investment Management LLC sign (foreground) and the pristine colonnades of the West End symbolize the territory’s economic aspirations, the physical and metaphorical distance between these structures and the man on the pavement remains vast. On the first day of May, as the Department of Health debates homelessness from the safety of their offices, the St. Croix Sun captures the reality of a neighbor left to navigate the long stretch of Strand Street alone. (ST. CROIX SUN photo by: JOHN McCARTHY)
The Real 'Real Talk'
The DOH is excited about "Season 2" of their podcast. They want to "reduce stigma" and "encourage young people to seek help." That is a noble goal for those with a smartphone and a data plan.
But for the man on the corner of Strand Street, the only "Real Talk" that matters is whether he can get a drink of water before the heat becomes lethal. The DOH’s strategy of asking the public to bring them donations—which they will then hold onto for weeks—is the ultimate bureaucratic middleman maneuver. It allows them to take credit for the community's charity while their actual staff stays behind the glass.
The Verdict
The Department of Health is content to play "Office Hours" while men like Victor Cruz Jr. are forced to keep "Sidewalk Hours." One group is protected by a security guard and a government paycheck; the other is protected only by their own resilience and the occasional kindness of a passing neighbor.
If Commissioner Encarnacion truly wants to "meet people where they are," she should turn off the radio, step out of the VITRACO Mall, and walk the length of Strand Street. She won't find many Gen Z influencers there, but she’ll find the reality her department is currently content to ignore.
As a certain billionaire might say before launching a rocket into the void: the data doesn't lie. And the data on Strand Street today says the DOH is failing.
