What happened to a safety net that's supposed to catch poor women and children when they fall?
March 11, 2013 |
The following article is part of AlterNet's ongoing series on poverty in America, Hard Times USA.
Leaving
her husband became the only option for "Stacy" after he became violent
with the children. She returned to her hometown, Las Cruces, NM, with
her 5 little boys in tow. Other than lacking an emergency family
shelter, this is a pleasant mid-sized city. The family stayed for a
while at the domestic violence shelter. Her time there ended without her
finding housing, and she scrambled for a desperate, stopgap solution:
her mother’s old, tiny camper.
For $300 a month, including
utilities, the family could park their leaky camper in a park in her
town. She had no money. We connected at the campground and made
arrangements with the manager. Stacy didn’t have the prerequisite water
and sewer hoses or electrical adapters.
For years, I've travelled the country meeting families
in desperate straights.
My 27’ motorhome teaches me how to live small, but I cringed as I left
her and her under-9 troop of boys in their 13’ tin-can-home. She
stalwartly said they’d make it despite sporadic child support, a host of
legal and custodial issues swarming around her, unaddressed trauma
lingering like storm clouds, and the challenges of raising a large
family in miniscule space.
Much of what I have continued to
learn about the inadequacies of our so-called safety net I’ve learned
from families like Stacy’s. As with everything else, it’s theory and
reality. The theory—resources are available to assist families in
homeless situations—is dreadfully far removed from reality. Let me
explain.
Poverty—Fast Track to Homelessness
For the 7 million families hovering in poverty, longtime homelessness expert, Dr. Ralph Nunez, founder of the
Institute of Children, Poverty and Homelessness,
bluntly predicted the ominous reality when he said: “If you’re going to
be poor in the 21st Century, you’re going to be homeless.”
Reasons
include: Skyrocketing housing costs, stagnating wages, plummeting
employment, unaffordable health care, shredded safety net programs, and
failed child welfare practices, including the abuse and neglect of the
foster care system (
1-page list of causes of homelessness from my book,
Crossing the Line: Taking Steps to End Homelessness).
Two decades of that deterioration has left its mark. The economic
malaise of the oil and housing bust jolted previously stable families,
pushing many into poverty and homelessness, ill-equipped to navigate the
fragmented assistance network, straining existing resources.
Ancillary
services that might ease family homelessness—legal assistance, child
welfare programs, nutrition, counseling, childcare—were also slashed.
Stacy and millions of other families found themselves with no recourse.
It’s ugly.
Stacy and her boys would not get out of their 13’
camper for a brutal 6 months, enduring heat, cold and dust storms. In
that time, because of the trauma she’s experienced that tends to make
women vulnerable for bad relationships, she became pregnant. This loving
mother didn’t consider another mouth to feed as a problem. Enduring
pregnancy in the below-freezing winter and sizzling summer was
indescribable.
What happened to a safety net that's supposed to catch poor women and children when they fall?
The Feds Get Dragged Into Addressing Homelessness
Spurred by my mentor and ferocious radical
Mitch Snyder’s
relentless hunger strikes and activism, President Reagan directed
Congress to designate a modicum of money and administrative attention to
address homelessness back in 1987. The McKinney Act, now the
McKinney-Vento Act, is the supposedly comprehensive federal plan to address homelessness.
Federal
law mandates that all federal departments sit at the same table to
coordinate efforts, under the auspices of the U.S. Interagency Council
on Homelessness, USICH. However, scant attention and resources (a meager
$2 billion) are
ineffectively directed at this growing national crisis.
When
Snyder and our ambitious cadre of activists marched on Washington for
“Housing NOW!” back in October 1989, we were determined to make our case
for, well, housing now.
The alcohol-addled, grizzled guy on the
street, purportedly a dangerous substance and sex abuser, became the
poster child for homelessness.
Criminalizing homelessness became
the more common response. Federal funds barely touched the crisis of
homelessness. In the process, with the inaccurate image of a scary
homeless guy on the street corner engraved in the public’s mind, the
needs of the emerging younger and more vulnerable population—homeless
families and unaccompanied youth—languished. Over the past 25+ years,
political will and capital dried up like an Arizona desert.
Communities
were slow to realize that the underlying shift in federal policies
excluded families from homelessness assistance. Unbeknownst to many
policymakers, legislators, local officials and the public, the assumed
safety network of homeless shelters for families and youth barely
existed, in far too few communities (
Map).
In fact, to this day, many communities lack any emergency shelters for families or youth.
Simultaneously, many families were devastated and became homeless in the aftermath of the
dismantling of public assistance, aka “welfare reform;” coupled
with countless policy tweaks to HUD’s public housing regulations, such
as the barring families with bad credit and increasing punitive
restrictions; and a greatly reduced budget for subsidized housing.
Starting in President Bill Clinton’s administration and intensifying under George W. Bush, HUD focused on derisively labeled “
chronic”
men and women on urban streets—veterans, elderly, mentally ill,
physically diminished. Some communities struggled to fill the gaps and
to provide humanitarian aid, mostly in the form of emergency overnight
shelters that relied on benevolent faith-based volunteers, but many of
those efforts excluded families or erected barriers to inadvertently
turn families away.Parents, ashamed of their failures,
disappeared in the background, fearful of child welfare authorities
removing their children, which
still happens despite laws to prevent it.
Defined Out of Homelessness—Beleaguered Families Become Invisible
HUD
requires communities to count their homeless population, a task often
done annually. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, HUD doesn’t count
families like Stacy’s, inadequately—to say the least—housed in that tiny
camper, or those doubled-up (or worse) with family, friends or
acquaintances, or those in motel rooms (with a convoluted set of
exceptions). That’s supposed to change, but years of ignoring families
took its toll, and it bamboozled Congress.
HUD reports to Congress that
633,782 individuals were
counted in the latest Point-In-Time counts, justifying appropriating
few federal dollars to a diminishing number of programs serving a
spiraling number of people without homes. The U.S. Department of
Education reported slightly over 1 million homeless students,
contrasting with HUD’s numbers. Yet HUD and their minions boast about
the success of the 10-Year-Plan to end homelessness, a reminder of
“Mission Accomplished” delusions.
HUD’s housing dollars have
shrunk over the past decades, as poverty and housing costs shot up.
Family assistance supports, aka “welfare,” also shriveled. Families
unable to get cash assistance clamor to get into subsidized housing, but
they find the waiting lists years long and no viable options. These
families, “at the bottom of the poverty ladder,” as Nunez astutely
points out, will become homeless. And we have scant ways to help them.
Astoundingly,
even to me, a seasoned veteran in the world of homelessness, is the
dearth of emergency family shelters in many communities nationwide. Too
often, a family displaced by trauma (violence, disaster, economic
crisis, etc.), has no place to turn for short-term help, often worsening
their circumstances. For Stacy and her little boys, the camper was it.
The only family shelter in her community, Las Cruces, NM, closed in 2007
due to administrative and funding problems. It has yet to reopen.
Families like Stacy’s often
turn to motels,
an expensive and complicated solution. Motels allow families to pay by
the day or week, not requiring deposits or credit checks, and they
include utilities and amenities such as TV and air conditioning. But it
requires a tremendous chunk of a family’s tenuous monthly income, using
their limited resources up to pay the room, leaving nothing to help them
get out of their quagmire. The grueling small space—I’ve been in a
200-sq. ft. room shared by mom, dad and their 5 kids—lack of cooking
facilities and no privacy are at the top of complaints I’ve heard from
these beleaguered and invisible families. But it’s better than the
streets.
Short-Term and Long-Term Solutions
Ignored, to this day, is the need for a flexible variety of family housing solutions with layers of services to address the
ongoing trauma and physical damages caused and worsened by abject poverty and homelessness. It is possible, but rare.
Respected programs, such as
UMOM in
Phoenix, AZ, demonstrate commendable determination to create myriad
housing and individually tailored services, as opposed to inadequate
one-size-fits-all approaches. UMOM keeps families together, avoiding
what my colleague
Pat LaMarche refers
to as the “Sophie’s Choice of the 21st Century” conundrum, where the
parent has to farm out their teenage males because the shelter bans boys
over a certain age (as young as 10) or stay together in adverse
circumstances—sleeping in a car, storage shed, leaky camper, or with
unscrupulous hosts.
On our 2013 southwest tour to raise awareness
and inspire compassion for homeless families, youth and individuals,
when asked by
The Young Turks host Cenk Ugyur’s about what’s needed to address homelessness, my
Babes of Wrath colleague Pat LaMarche provided a perfect answer: housing.
For
Stacy, finding a way out was essential, but daunting. I became more
involved, conducting long-distance advocacy for her family with the
local housing authority. The HPRP, Homelessness Prevention and Rapid
Re-housing Plan, part of
Obama’s under-hyped stimulus plan,
became her ticket to permanent housing. Because she had no criminal
record and didn’t abuse substances, she qualified. Her family moved into
a full-size house trailer, two-thirds of her rent paid by the housing
authority. Compared to many other families, Stacy's is lucky, for now.