After four months of being closed, the Salvation Army Female Emergency Shelter, an institution in Portland since 1999, reopened Dec. 2.
The atmosphere in the downtown shelter’s community room was calm and familial. Streamers climbed up the pillars, poinsettias adorned the tables, and lights and tinsel decorated the Christmas tree in the corner. A few women played cards; another lounged on the couch while her dog panted at her feet.
This scene was a far cry from what SAFES used to be like, Executive Director Becky O’Neil McBrayer said.
The shelter closed in July when its application for funding was denied by the Joint Office of Homeless Services because of inadequate answers regarding trauma-informed care, equity issues and creating pathways into permanent housing.
The Salvation Army’s 34 single-room-occupancy units on the upper floors of the building, known as the Safe Harbor program, remained open. After what McBrayer called an “extreme makeover,” as well as a new staff, SAFES reopened this month.
McBrayer, who arrived just three months before the closure, and operations manager Kristi Bugge have championed the building’s renovations and new programming. SAFES now has a room with 12 emergency beds, a community space that serves food restaurant-style, a weekly foot clinic, weekly energy work sessions, showers, laundry facilities, a boutique-style clothing closet and a library. Safe Harbor has additional programming, such as weekly dinner, movie and game nights, Rent Well classes, and case management.
“Before, it was terrifying. Drugs, alcohol, fights, people going through your things while you were sleeping,” said Kat, a Safe Harbor resident who stayed in the old shelter for about three months this year. “You feel the love in this place now. It’s completely different. Having been here before and been here now, it’s like two different places.”
The 2019 Point in Time homelessness count recorded 1,394 houseless women in the Portland area. Fifty-nine percent of those had experienced domestic violence at some point in their lives. The percentages were even higher for houseless transgender and gender-nonconforming folks.
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The shelter had previously come under scrutiny a few years ago after a viral thread on Twitter by a transgender resident highly criticized her treatment and the facility.
“We’re exceedingly senstive to our transgender guests because of the level of discrimination in the community at large, but also in the community of people experiencing homelessness,” McBrayer said. “So we’re very sensitive to our transgender sisters. Basically everyone is welcome here, and everyone will be treated with dignity and respect.”
McBrayer runs the ship with seven staff members and a focus on trauma-informed care. SAFES is low barrier, meaning that women with addictions aren’t turned away. Safe Harbor is a clean and sober program, but McBrayer said they will work with women who have returned to using. The only thing she has absolutely no tolerance for is violence.
“We all know that women are the most vulnerable on the streets,” McBrayer said. “They’re vulnerable to sexual assault, as well as general physical assault, theft. The streets of Portland just simply are not safe for women. I’ve heard so many horrible stories about, you’re out at night, you’re so exhausted you just want to sleep. You lay down on the sidewalk and a man comes and lays down next to you with a knife, and you have to do everything that he tells you to do.
“A lot of women will just walk throughout the night for safety, and when it’s cold out also to stay warm. So during the day they’re just so unbelievably exhausted, and you can’t get anything done when you’re exhausted. It’s part of being a woman on the streets.”
This is the reason that SAFES keeps their emergency beds open for women to sleep any time of the day or night.
For one resident, who only gave the initial C, becoming houseless all started when her daughter became ill and needed surgeries. Until moving into SAFES this month, she was living in a tent for two years. She had her wallet stolen, a tent stolen and a tent destroyed while she was in it. Her strategy for safety was to stick to herself and avoid men, whom she has seen take advantage of many women on the streets.
“I stayed by myself, and I tried to hide,” she said.
C said she’s had trouble finding shelter because she doesn’t fit certain criteria for different shelters, such as a woman with children or someone seeking addiction services. Currently, she flies a sign for work. She’s educated and has driven forklifts for work in the past, but knee problems and a bulging disc that she expects will require surgery have prevented her from getting a better-paying job.
“You never know when you’ve got to move,” C said. “The cops will roust you; somebody will rob you. It could be anything, but you never know. It’s the lack of stability, because you never know from one day to the next what is going to happen, and it’s never good. So you tend to stay close to your things. You can’t go out and do things. You can’t hop a bus and go to the doctor. You can’t really make plans for anything, really. But here, you can.”
Jilly, a resident of Safe Harbor, said she lost her home and all of her belongings when her daughter didn’t pay the rent while she was out of town mourning the death of her longtime partner. Because she worked nights, she wasn’t eligible for certain shelter programs and had to sleep outside for two nights before securing a room at Safe Harbor.
Now she’s on the way to getting her own apartment and looks forward to inviting over the friends she’s made at the shelter. Safe Harbor reports a 68% success rate of residents finding permanent housing.
With the cold and rainy season in full effect in the Portland area, the community at SAFES seems especially important.
“The holidays can be difficult for people, especially if they’re estranged from their families or they’re in a tough situation,” McBrayer said. “But honestly, people experiencing homelessness have tough lives, and that’s a year-round thing; that’s not just around the holidays, that sense of grief of losing your family, your house, your dignity, your humanity. That’s a year-round thing.”
In the community room, a resident dragged a Christmas tree from storage to set up in the Safe Harbor space. A woman rolling tobacco asked Bugge at the front desk if she “had any word” from one of the residents who was recovering in the hospital after a hip replacement.
“Yeah, she calls about four times a day,” Bugge said. “She’s doing great, but I think she’s missing home.”