Time and again, despite the rhetoric, we are reminded that homelessness is not a one-dimensional issue. It is the byproduct of the unlimited combinations of economic, social and environmental forces. Its roots extend far into our educational institutions, our health care structure, our criminal justice system and the incarceration industry. And that’s even before you stir in the housing crisis, wildly outrageous rents and the loss of middle-income jobs.
Homelessness is a complex and sophisticated issue, just like the human beings living through it: We would say survive, but not all of them do. All of these forces push people downward and keep them there.
The Springwater Corridor is the latest flashpoint in this decades-long struggle around modern homelessness. It is drawing fire from all directions – toward the people who are homeless and their supporters – and back again.
Sensationalized figures aside, there are undoubtedly hundreds of people out there, and like any fledgling society, it features the good, the bad and the ugly. It also features perseverance, ingenuity and compassion.
In recent weeks, the housed and homeless alike have been coming together, organizing around civility, safety and sustainability for people on the corridor. Some of it is activism, but most of it is people trying to do the humane thing for people who have nothing. Because cursing at the problem – no matter how cathartic – doesn’t move the ball forward.
How often do we hear the response – after an individual or group of people experiencing homelessness make do – “That isn’t a solution.”
Dignity Village, Right 2 Dream Too, church lot camping, small camps, emergency shelter, etc.: That isn’t a solution, people said.
That depends on what you’re calling the problem. Yes, it’s the lack of affordable housing, jobs, health and support. But if you’re homeless, it also includes the cold, hunger, isolation and vulnerability.
The solution, like the problem, is multi-dimensional, and has to span both long-term economic and social sustainability with the immediacy of sundown. To say people don’t want help is to not understand the complexity of what helping really means. And to equate help with a shelter mat is missing the bigger picture entirely.
In the past year we have seen a lot of ideas laid out on the table, none of them without controversy: Sanctioned camping by the city; a proposal to create a massive consolidated shelter space; a construction excise tax and a ballot measure to bond for low-income housing construction. We’ve also seen rules around rent increases and eviction notices, because the problem doesn’t begin on the streets. It begins in the apartments across this city where families are becoming financially drained.
And we also have to find a way for people on the streets to exist safely and peacefully, because mass shelters and mats on the floor are not good for everyone for myriad reasons – mental illness, domestic violence, PTSD to name a few.
Street Roots is excited by the opportunities ahead, but we’re also cautious of the fallout that sometimes follows. If a group’s big idea is questioned or challenged by advocates and the homeless, the rejection becomes another reason to blame those they profess to want to help. We’ve heard it time and time again: What’s that you say? A mat on the floor in a room with 100 other homeless people is not for you? Why do we waste our time if you choose to be homeless? And so it goes, in many shapes and forms.
That kind of misguided attitude only pushes people further into their corners when we really need to be out pushing the envelop. The problem doesn’t look like it did 30 years ago, and neither can the solution.
Our approaches can’t be all-or-nothing propositions if we want to succeed. No single plan is going to have universal support, or come without its critics. That’s a good thing. Discussion and debate – not ultimatums – are the cornerstones of progress.