HOMELESSNESS…HERE, THERE AND EVERYWHERE

What if you had nobody?

No one around?

Everybody needs someone.

And what if you had no place to live?

Have you ever given that a thought?

Scary, right?

Happens.

All the time; all too often; under vastly different circumstances; and all over.

Certainly around the world.

And most certainly in this country.

Maybe very close to where you live…

In January 2020 — pre-pandemic — there were 580,466 homeless people in America.

Individuals represented roughly 70% of that figure; families with children made up the rest.

Unaccompanied youth (under age 25) account for 6% of the larger group.

Every state and territory.

Diversity, indubitably reflected.

Risk is inextricably linked to gender, race and ethnicity.

Males are far more likely to experience homelessness — 22 of every 10,000 — than females — 13 of every 10,000.

The gender disparity is more stark when the focus is exclusively on individual adults, the overwhelming majority of whom are men (70%).

Race is another significant foreteller.

As in so many other arenas and phases of American life, historically marginalized groups are more likely to be disadvantaged within the housing and homelessness worlds.

Higher unemployment numbers, lower incomes, lack of affordable healthcare and elevated rates of incarceration, all play a role in the upward spiral and spike of homelessness among people of color.

While whites represent the largest racial group in the homeless community — accounting for more than a quarter-million people — the historically marginalized suffer their fate, in part, due to segregation and discrimination in employment and housing, among other areas.

Native Hawaiians and other Pacific Islanders endure the highest rate of homelessness (109 of every 10,000).

Native Americans (45 of every 10,000) and African Americans (52 of every 10,000) also experience elevated rates; the nation’s overall rate of homelessness is 18 of every 10,000.

[Comprehensive national-level data on homelessness was last collected in January 2020, before COVID-19 was declared a national emergency.

Thus, shifts in homelessness which may have resulted due to steps taken to address COVID or elevated employment rates related to the pandemic and recession, are not reflected in these figures.]

Either way, the trends are not positive.

Between 2019 and 2020, nationwide homelessness increased by two percent.

This change marked the fourth straight year of incremental growth, following a decline in homelessness in eight of the previous nine years, predating the current swing.

How can we end homelessness?

Giving people access to support services and a place to stay, can sharply reduce the numbers of those living on the street.

The question becomes, can that be done affordably?

The government has tried to tackle the problem of homelessness on nearly every level, but despite spending billions, comprehensive solutions have proven elusive.

Does increasing the number of shelters available to the homeless offer a viable solution?

Not for the long-term.

Good for emergencies, but not exactly a home.

And incredibly expensive to operate.

Nationally, the average monthly cost of serving a family in an emergency shelter is $4,819.

Providing them with a voucher for housing, on the other hand, is just $1,162.

Then there’s the issue of shelter quality, coupled with the prospect of facing a myriad of negative and traumatic experiences — violence, theft, and sexual assault leap to mind.

In 2015, 826 “violent incidents” were reported in New York City homeless shelters, including domestic violence and sexual assault, according to the New York Daily News.

Plus, shelters offer no sense of permanence — quite to the contrary — and this notion of ‘permanence’ helps people land a job, and start on a path to sobriety.

Affordable housing is a better long-term solution but in cities where real estate is pricey — think San Francisco and New York, for example — developers want to recoup their investments ASAP, which translates into higher, if not skyrocketing rents.

Federal Low Income Housing Tax Credits exist which help cajole certain developers to build 100% affordable housing, but there aren’t enough to go around.

Credits and ultimately, housing.

So, building enough affordable housing for all those who need it — not to mention for those who don’t have homes in the first place — remains something of a pipe dream.

An approach known as “housing-first,” has been explored.

“Housing-first” places homeless people in long-term housing without requiring them — or even asking them — to get clean, or hang onto a job at the start.

After they are settled in a stable home, they gain access to services such as drug and alcohol treatment, an assigned social worker, and job training.

Between 2005–2014, the state of Utah reduced its chronically-homeless population a whopping 72% through “housing-first,” a figure so staggering that the director of Utah’s Housing and Community Development Division told The Washington Post, that the number of chronically homeless was “approaching a functional zero.”

Sounds good, but nothing is perfect, of course.

After all, why should homeless people get a free place to live, at the expense of lots of others who need affordable housing, and aren’t homeless?

Somebody’s gotta foot the bill.

Tenants pay a small portion of their rent and the state or the city usually picks up the rest — the bulk of it.

Spending the voucher for the Section 8 housing program (the aforementioned $1,162) simply means that fewer people overall would receive rental assistance.

Further, there are legal ramifications.

In 1999, the Supreme Court ruled that the segregation of those with disabilities violated the Americans with Disabilities Act.

That case focused on Medicaid subscribers, but advocates for the homeless interpreted it differently.

Isolating chronically homeless people with disabilities from the rest of society was akin to institutionalizing them, they postulated.

And that violates the law.

Providing both permanent supportive housing, and low-income housing, presents a thorny issue for housing developments.

Yes, homes can be made available to a broader sector of the population, which is good.

But serving the homeless all over the country, saddled by mental illness and addiction, is a struggle of epic proportion.

Mixed-use housing can create community.

To wit, in one Harlem building, single moms living in affordable housing regularly helped out the ex-cons living in supportive housing, and vice-versa.

Though the building’s developers were concerned that low-income moms would disdain living with the mentally ill, some 2,000 people applied for just a few dozen units when the building opened.

This suggests that integrating supportive and low-income housing can be successful.

Housing in many cities is getting more expensive by the month.

As prices rise, so do the costs associated with the programs to help the homeless.

Federal funds for affordable housing have remained at the same levels for years (if they haven’t been slashed).

Carving out more money from the nation’s budget to address the state of homelessness seems like a no-brainer.

Problems directly related — school truancy, food insecurity, drug and alcohol abuse, unemployment — could be ameliorated by osmosis, if you will.

Allocating greater resources, then — spending more — could actually represent an enormous societal savings down the road.

[Editor’s Note: This piece was written by Mr. Kaplan in October 2021.]