So it seems Atlanta is looking to thin out its “bruh man, bruh man,” crowd.

Mayor Shirley Franklin has the city council scrutinizing a proposal that would, if it becomes law, ban panhandling in much of downtown Atlanta – and throughout the city once the sun goes down. It would also penalize hustlers who fake ailments or disabilities to get money.

Backers say such a law is necessary to stop aggressive beggars from driving tourists away and disrupting business. But because the panhandlers are disproportionately black, opponents have called the move racist, and a throwback to the days when segregation restricted the movement of blacks in downtown Atlanta.

Me, I think that characterization is a bit of a reach. Segregation restricted the presence of blacks in downtown Atlanta based on their race alone. The proposed law is more about behavior rather than race.

But the fact that cities such as Atlanta are now forced to deal with issues like begging – a problem brought on by poverty and the dysfunction it brings -- through punitive means ought to trouble everyone. It’s troubling because in one sense, getting beggars out of sight and out of mind makes it easier to ignore the conditions that lead to such desperation.

And that bothers me.

It’s not that I don’t understand the reasons behind the push for such laws. Being accosted every few steps for spare change, or to listen to a sob story about needing a few bucks to buy the baby some Pampers, can ruin the rhythm of an afternoon stroll. Getting cornered coming out of a restaurant by people asking for spare change for a sandwich can cause the guilt to well up in one’s heart. And the stories and props can get clever. Some beggars even bring stray puppies with them to ratchet up the guilt in passersby. Some panhandlers can get surly, though incidents of them committing violent crimes against those whom they solicit for change are rare.

But my being annoyed by their asking for money or by disrupting my solitude is, to me, nothing compared to the day-to-day misery that many of them have to deal with. And it’s not surprising that many of those who are dealing with that kind of misery are black.

Black men, men who have disproportionately high incarceration rates, represent a large number of panhandlers because, among other things, many of them have a hard time finding steady work and housing once they leave jail or prison. Some manage to overcome the problem, but others simply give up -- and turn reality on its head by turning begging into a vocation.

Then there are those like a brother I wrote about in a column several years ago. He was living under a house with his wife. By day, he’d work at the labor pool, but his wages were siphoned off by transportation and other expenses. That meant that every once in a while, he’d have to beg for change to make ends meet.

So while I don’t have much pity for the liars who are hustling, I guess I’m not as arrogant as to see my being annoyed by a beggar as worthy of more legislative attention than the problems that have boosted the ranks of beggars over the years. Most of the time, I deal with it by politely telling them no.

Of course, one could look at it all from a business standpoint. It could be argued that if begging is a business, then it ought to be regulated like any other business, and therefore, panhandlers should have to stay in certain zones and observe certain restrictions. But if we begin to accept begging as a business instead of a side-effect of poverty and dysfunction, then I fear
that less energy will go into dealing with the complex issues of homelessness, drug abuse and discrimination that lead people to degrade themselves by asking strangers for money.

True, Atlanta’s ordinance may be necessary to preserve its downtown and its businesses. But it’s just too bad that it, like so many other laws that restrict panhandling, diverts more energy into pushing the problem into one area – or erasing it from the public’s consciousness.

And the poor are invisible enough as it is.