Category: Homelessness

Categories
Homelessness Reading

Down and Out, On the Road.

It took me a couple of months, but I finally got through Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History (first mentioned in this post). Here are the main points I took from the book:

“Down and Out” refers to people who live in impoverished urban areas. More specifically, people who live on “skid row” are “down and out”. (The term “skid row” likely originated in Seattle. As noted in both the Underground Tour and Beneath the Streets Tour in the Pioneer Square neighborhood, tree logs cut from the hills were pushed down Yesler Way towards the waterfront. Logs skidding down Yesler Way led to the name “skid row”.) These days, “skid row” typically refers to centers of poverty in cities where homeless people often reside. This is paired with…

“On the Road” refers to people who were homeless and, in trying to search for work, rode the trains. They often did not ride in the train, but rather on or under the train. These same individuals might reside in “down and out” areas upon arriving in a city. During the 1800s, people who were homeless were often associated with riding the rails than living in skid rows.

The term “the jungle” has been used to describe homeless encampments for nearly 200 years. In recent years here in Seattle, “the jungle” has referred specifically to a large encampment tucked under many trees in an undeveloped area near Interstate 5. This “jungle” was also notorious in the local press for violence (and was subsequently razed, though it seems that there are evergreen efforts to revive it). Over the past 200 years, people who had no place to live set up camp in forested areas (“jungles”) outside of urban centers, which developed into communities.

Cycles of romanticizing and vilifying homeless people are not new. People with no place to live are poor. Because the working class recognized how similar their struggles were with people who were homeless, they were (and continue to be) consistently more sympathetic, empathetic, and generous to them. Other classes, though, have swung between perceptions that people who are homeless are harmless—perhaps even charming (see Norman Rockwell) to lazy, deviant, and dangerous. (Other indicators include The Way It Is and Mr. Wendal, both excellent songs.)

Homelessness is a consequence of poverty. When I first received the book, I confess that I was dismayed to see in the index that “mental illness” is mentioned on only four pages of this ~250 page text. Kusmer, the author, provides a compelling historical account that various systems, including government policy (or lack thereof), economic forces, and cultural values are the chief drivers that lead to people becoming poor. Poverty is a major risk factor for homelessness. (I know this from my own anecdotal experience: Most people who are homeless do not have a severe psychiatric illness like schizophrenia. People often develop psychiatric symptoms because of homelessness. Even if every single psychiatrist in the nation worked with people who are homeless, homelessness would persist: There are plenty of people who are unhoused who do not need psychiatric treatment. They need a place to live and ways to have money to pay for living expenses.)

There was a federal program to address homelessness! Homelessness has been and continues to be a nationwide problem (regardless of the size of the US throughout time) that requires a federal response. The Federal Transient Service (FTS) was the first (and only?) federal agency in US history whose goal was to aid people who were homeless and unemployed. It started in 1933 and only lasted two years, in part because it seemed “successful”: The number of homeless people dropped, so everyone thought the problem of homelessness was solved. FTS funds were swept to support public works and Social Security. (In theory, public works and Social Security seemed like better investments to prevent homelessness.)

The disproportionate number of homeless people who are Black is not new. This is another legacy of slavery. A number of minority populations (e.g., Native Americans, Mexicans, women) suffer from homelessness because of policies and practices related to economic and class exclusion.

Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History was published in 2002. My sense is that the author, when viewing the current state of homelessness in the US, would continue to argue that the forces that contribute to poverty remain the primary driver of homelessness. I think he would continue to view mental illness and substance use as distractions and not significant causes of homelessness. (To be clear, I don’t think he’s discounting psychiatric conditions as contributors to homelessness for specific individuals, particularly since psychiatric conditions, both directly and indirectly, can pull people into poverty.) I appreciate how he ends the text:

The compulsion to stereotype the homeless as dependent and deviant turns the poorest Americans into an abstract “other,” separate and inferior from everyone else. Although their problems are more severe, however, destitute people living on the streets and in homeless shelters are not so different from the rest of us. They never have been. Any genuine effort to end homelessness must begin with a recognition of that essential truth.

Categories
Homelessness Nonfiction Policy Public health psychiatry

Age and Vulnerability.

She was unprepared: One woolen blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. The other one was spread out so she did not have to sit directly on the ivy and weeds crawling across the hillside. A nylon sheet was rumpled by her side. Behind her was a pushcart that held a thin roll of garbage bags and a small empty cardboard box. There was no tent or sleeping bag. Though there were other people higher on the hillside, there was no one within earshot.

Most of the pages in her notebook were blank. The pen ink was bright turquoise; her penmanship was small and neat.

Small metal studs adorned her ears and a chunky chain was around her slender neck. Her hair was dyed an unnatural color and showed no signs of fading. The only hints that revealed that was not brand new to the hillside were the dust on her fashionable sneakers and the dirt that was collecting underneath her short fingernails. She also said that her phone had run out of charge.

She is not yet 20 years old.

I don’t expect that they are still alive, though I still think of them even when I’m not visiting New York City.

I met her when she was in her mid-60s. She never told us where she slept, though we reliably found her at the ferry terminal. Her fingers moved the needle and thread with ease to close the hole in her sock. She kept spools of thread in a plastic container that sat on the bundle of clothes she packed into her pushcart. Despite our best efforts for over two years, she never accepted housing: “The aliens will exterminate me if I go inside.”

I met him when he was in his 70s, or so we thought. No one knew his birthdate; he never shared this information. He buried himself between mounds of full trashbags or folded himself into cardboard boxes lining the curb. On the few occasions he spoke, the thinness of his voice—sometimes so faint that it seemed that only wisps of his speech reached my ears—betrayed his age.

Back here in Seattle, as elsewhere, there are people in their 70s and 80s who live outside or in shelters.

People under the age of 25 who are on their own and homeless are called “unaccompanied youth”. They are “considered vulnerable due to their age”. These unaccompanied youth make up about 5% of the homeless population in the US.

As the US population ages, people who are homeless are also aging. A study of homeless people in California found that 47% of all homeless adults are 50 years of age or older. Even more alarming, nearly half of all homeless people over 50 years of age first became homeless after they turned 50 years old!

Why do we consider “extremes” of age (though being in your late teens or your 70s is not actually “extreme”) as a factor that contributes to vulnerability when homeless? If you’re a 51 year-old man and you don’t know where you’re going to sleep tonight, doesn’t the variable of not knowing where you’re going to sleep tonight automatically make you vulnerable? Sure, you may have the size and mass to successfully defend yourself if someone attacks you or the ability to endure nighttime temperatures, but is that really where we’ve set the bar for vulnerability?

Categories
Homelessness Reading Reflection

Words and Sounds.

The reason behind my recent silence here is I am attending to a beloved family member whose health continues to deteriorate. Surely other medical professionals have written about the difficulties of our roles and responsibilities: We are not (and should not be!) doctors or nurses for the ones we love, though it is difficult to push the professional knowledge out of our minds. Sometimes (often?) it doesn’t feel like love is enough, even as we realize that our professional knowledge isn’t enough, either.

I have spent most of my career working with people experiencing homelessness. I don’t recall newspapers and other media writing about this topic as much as they do now:

Homelessness is a federal problem. Was there ever a time when the feds tried to solve the problem of people having no place to live? What is the history of homelessness in the US?

Well, there’s actually a FREE, short paper (it’s an appendix!) from a long report about permanent supportive housing with the title “The History of Homelessness in the United States“. That article led me to the book Down and Out, On the Road: The Homeless in American History. I’m about 80 pages in and, so far, it’s not encouraging. The arguments and opinions about homelessness from 100 and 200 years ago are similar to what we hear now in 2023 (deserving vs. undeserving poor, work tests, etc.). I’m hoping the author will describe the intersections of homelessness (“vagrancy”) and health, including substance use (alcohol? opium?) and mental illness.

If this problem were easy to solve, we would have already solved it… right?

The inimitable Ed Yong is leaving The Atlantic! His stellar writing about Covid over the past three years were invaluable to me: Not only did he provide meaningful analysis about how Covid was affecting individuals and populations, but he also accurately captured the horror of what was happening.

In his recent newsletter, he shared the following:

… I want to double down on my journalistic values: not only describing what is happening but helping people actually make sense of it; bearing witness to suffering; speaking truth to power; revealing wonder in the obscure; and pushing for a more just and equitable world.

He has succeeded in adhering to his values (and received a well-deserved Pulitzer along the way). This has prompted me to consider what values I hold in my writing. (Are the values I hold in my professional role transferrable to my writing? Is writing part of my professional role? Why am I mincing my life into roles when they are interconnected, as per the first paragraph of this post?)

Let’s end this post with some lighter fare:

  • 15 Relaxing Mario Jazz Medley (just go listen)
  • If you’ve seen the Barbie movie: I know most people are fawning over the song “I’m Just Ken”, but “Push” is the underrated gem. I’ll never hear the word “granted” the same way again.

Categories
Homelessness Observations Reading

The Guest Who Has No Place to Live.

Inspired by this tweet (“This book is viscerally upsetting, lol. What the fuck”), I read The Guest by Emma Cline.

The inside flap offers an accurate description of the story: Alex makes a “misstep at a dinner party” and ends up wandering around Long Island. She has “few resources and a waterlogged phone, but [is] gifted with an ability to navigate the desires of others.” She is indeed “propelled by desperation and a mutable sense of morality” and “a cipher leaving destruction in her wake.”

And, yes, the book is viscerally upsetting.

Is the story about status and hierarchies? Yes. Is it about appearances and identity? Yes. Is it about the transactional roles young women play in American society? Yes.

Is it about a young woman who has nowhere to live? Yes: Alex is homeless.

This is not the reason why I chose to read this book. (Honestly, the only thing I knew about the book was from that tweet. We can wonder together why I wanted to read something “viscerally upsetting”).

It’s not Alex’s status as a homeless person that turns the stomach. (I don’t even know how many readers use the frame of homelessness while reading this story.) It’s the odious nature of her choices, how unsettling her behavior is. She is not endearing. (Kudos to Cline for creating a character who is unlikeable yet compelling.) We readers get caught up in the appearances of luxury and decadence that we forget that Alex is trying to find a stable place to live.

We never learn Alex’s backstory; we don’t know where she is from, what happened to her in the more distant past, or how she came to behave this way. Part of the point of the novel, I think, is that we can never know: Appearances are what matter. You can tell any story you want to get your needs met.

For readers who want to make their lives more difficult (…), this book introduces uncomfortable questions related to homelessness:

  • If a young woman is despicable, does she deserve to be homeless?
  • What do we want to happen to young women we don’t like? Do we want them to suffer? Is homelessness a sufficient punishment?
  • Do we therefore assume that all people who are homeless must have done terrible things?

Then there’s the question of redemption. The events of The Guest unfold over the course of one week. Do we think Alex could ever redeem herself? What if it takes a year? or five?

Should people who are unlikeable be homeless until they redeem themselves?

Maybe Alex is a cipher, but, more importantly, she has no place to live. That’s why she’s “propelled by desperation and a mutable sense of morality”. Perhaps we take comfort in the idea that Alex is a character, that this is a novel.

  • Would we make similar choices if we were in Alex’s situation?
  • Could we also do such unlikeable things if we were homeless?

What if the homeless young women we encounter aren’t anything like Alex? Might we want to make different choices ourselves?

(And, yes, to be clear, I do recommend The Guest.)

Categories
Education Homelessness Policy Public health psychiatry Systems

What I Talked About: Complexities.

Many thanks to those of you who left comments or sent me a note in response to my call for suggestions for a presentation about homelessness and mental illness.

I gave the presentation earlier this week and ended up presenting (a) homelessness data specific to Seattle-King County, (b) general data in in published research about rates of different psychiatric conditions in people experiencing homelessness (there’s actually not a lot of data about this; my understanding is that there is a national study underway right now to assess people experiencing homelessness through structured psychiatric interviews), and (c) the topic of “Involuntarily Removing Mentally Ill People from Streets“. I asked the group—students within various health professions schools—for their thoughts about New York City’s plan.

Many of the students were unfamiliar with involuntary detention for psychiatric reasons, along with the process for how that happens (the laws in Washington State differ from those in most other states in the nation; namely, physicians and other mental health professionals in Washington State cannot detain people directly; we must call a third party, called Designated Crisis Responders, and refer someone for detention). The initial group consensus favored civil liberties; they spoke of loss of dignity, the psychological and physical trauma that can result from involuntary detention, and the importance of autonomy.

When the scenario was adjusted so that the person who was experiencing homelessness and major psychiatric symptoms was someone that the students knew and loved, they quickly changed their arguments to support involuntary detention. When we love someone, we are more comfortable taking away their rights.

Like many complex issues, “right” answers escape us as more facets of the problem are illuminated. Involuntary detention itself is a complicated issue and, because most people are not experiencing homelessness, the majority of people who are detained are people who have an indoor place they call home.

Some research indicates that around 76% of people experiencing homelessness also have a psychiatric disorder, though the association is complex and likely goes in both directions: Some people have a psychiatric condition that contributes to poverty and then homelessness (e.g., losing a job); others become homeless and then develop a psychiatric condition due to the challenges of not knowing where you will sleep at night.

I continue to learn the complexities of working at the intersections of poverty and mental health. I am grateful that more people are interested in this work, too. I hope that things don’t have to get worse before we can offer better help and care to these individuals, who are ultimately our neighbors.