Nearly 220,000 women and girls experienced homelessness in the U.S. last year. Oregon was home to many of them.
Oregon had the nation’s fourth-highest rate of homelessness among women, according to a recent analysis from the University of Southern California’s Department of Nursing, with 13.5 houseless women for every 10,000 people of all genders. That’s more than double the national average.
Sexual and physical violence are leading causes of homelessness among women. In 2019, nearly 60% of women experiencing homelessness in Multnomah County reported a history of domestic violence, according to the most recent Point in Time count. Once on the streets, women are prone to repeated victimization.
Due to housing efforts that prioritized vulnerable women, Multnomah County saw a 10% decrease in the number of women experiencing homelessness between 2017 and 2019, but that was before the coronavirus pandemic and ensuing economic recession swept the world. The extent of its damage won’t be fully understood for some time, but in September, four times as many women as men left the workforce, a sign that this particular crisis is disproportionately impacting the economic outcomes of women.
“There’s a lot of women on our streets right now,” Mayor Ted Wheeler told Street Roots during candidate interviews in October.
Behind the numbers are the faces and stories of women struggling to survive in the elements. They’re mothers; they’re artists; they’re caregivers. Despite their turmoil, they still have hope and ambitions. They also, at times, still harbor joy — the kind of joy that isn’t dependent on a system to be upheld.
We asked women living on the streets of Portland how they were able to find that kind of joy amid the hardships they face daily.
Editor’s note: Several of the women featured in this article were living in Laurelhurst Park at the time their photo was taken. Since then, on Nov. 19, the city cleared out the park, forcing everyone who’d been staying there to relocate.
STREET ROOTS NEWS: After painful sweep of Laurelhurst Park, unhoused residents want a space to exist
Sadie
Sadie Noggle, 33, has been living under an Interstate 84 overpass with her father off and on for years.
“My dad is a drug dealer and a pimp, and so he had me out here since I was like 16 until I was 25,” she said. “My dad was my pimp — and that’s just the lifestyle I had and the only one I knew. And then something happened. ... I didn’t believe in God, but now I definitely believe in God. I know that everything has been crazy, but it’s getting better little by little if I just take the right steps to figure out my life and do the right things.”
Sadie recently bought a car and was approved for housing.
“I’ve been really immersed in my writing lately, and it brings me the most joy,” Sadie said. “I write a lot of poetry about what’s going on in my life in general, and it helps me get through it.”
An excerpt from one of Sadie’s poems:
I may snap if another sheep claims to be “woke” again. The world is on fire, we’re led by liars and this smoke screen might never end. For living water where the runnels, let’s be the light and in the tunnels, where’s the vision and why stay blind? Let’s open hearts and open minds.
Jennifer
Jennifer, 44, was in the middle of cleaning out her tent before the rain came in for the week when Street Roots approached her camp in Southeast Portland.
When asked what brings her joy, she said, “I’m not sure right now. It’s been a rough year.”
Then, after a long pause, she said, “Actually, I got stuck in The Dalles, and I was able to kick heroin there, and it was the first time in a long time that that has happened. I was there June 23 to the beginning of October and was clean that whole time. It was really cool, and I guess that’s joy, isn’t it?”
Chantal
Chantal, 49, had just decorated and added lights to the awning in front of her tent where she was staying with her partner, her dog and friends in Laurelhurst Park before everyone living there was forced to vacate. Her son was staying with her in her car, which was parked right across the street. Chantal said she tries to sleep in the car whenever she can because “the rain makes everything awful.”
Chantal said her dog, her friends and her children bring her joy.
“The summer was really nice, too,” she said. “I went to the river, had some barbecues, went camping a few times. …
“My kids definitely bring me joy. My son stays with us here — he is 26 — and my other son is 18. He’s in school and has housing. He’s doing really well, and that makes me happy.”
Jasper
Jasper Evans, 37, has been trying to acquire a tent but in the meantime has been sleeping on the sidewalk under a tarp near Southeast 82nd Avenue in Portland.
She said the pumpkins at the farmers market bring her joy.
“They’re grown by Hmong people who have immigrated here and have small farming communities,” she said. “I decided recently to get into veganism and bought a bunch of vegetables at a farmers market as well as this piece of pumpkin. They have absolutely huge pumpkins, and then they divide them into smaller pieces. I had one and knew right away how nutritious it was. The man at the market got a kick out of me being a Westerner trying to buy his pumpkin. It’s just a delicious winter vegetable, and I love squash.”
Stacey
Stacey Miller, 37, was starting a fire outside her tent near North Lombard Street and Peninsula Crossing Trail when Street Roots approached her. She expressed interest in learning more about the Kenton Women’s Village and said she hopes someone will help her get a tiny house in the village.
“What brings me joy? The hope that I can get out of this situation and into housing or something,” Stacey said. “That way my daughter (11 years old) can come visit me for the weekend and spend time with me. She is with her dad, but I would love to have a space to share with her, a space to call my own. Honestly, people have been trying to point me in directions. They say, ‘I can get you to this place or that place,’ but there’s no sense in telling me that if you’re not going to follow through with it.
“I am grateful I have income. I’m on disability, just waiting for the right people to come talk to me or help me with the next step. It’s hard being a woman out here, but that’s why I stay with these people. They’re people I have known all my life, and they keep me safe. But, yeah, my daughter. I want a house to share with her. That hope brings me joy.”
Susie
Many of the residents at Laurelhurst Park said that Susie, 39, was a staple there. People equated her to their mother, friend and confidant. As she spoke with Street Roots, a few people came up to her to say hello and ask where certain resources were. She pointed them in the right direction and then carried on with the conversation.
“My kids bring me all the joy,” she said. “I have an 18-year-old, a 16-year-old and a 12-year-old. My (middle) son was a ward of the state, and he recently got released to my mom’s custody up in Washington. I’m wrapping a few things up here before I go up there to be with them all. I’m excited and nervous. I was a single mom for 14 years, until my youngest son passed away at the age of 2 1/2. Their fathers felt like I wasn’t capable of making good decisions after the loss of my son, and so they got temporary custody of the other children. That was the beginning of the downward spiral for me. That’s how I ended up here.”
Susie had been at Laurelhurst Park since July.
“It’s been good being here despite it all because being on the streets (as a woman) is scary, and I have lots of community and friends here, and I feel safe with familiar people. It’s humbling, and it makes you tough, you know? Asserting boundaries and sticking up for other people.”
Aarika
Aarika, 31, had been living in Laurelhurst Park since Christmas of 2019. She became homeless when domestic violence forced her out of her housing. She and Susie have both camped alone in the past but moved to Laurelhurst Park to feel safer.
Aarika said the thing that brings her joy is Susie’s tent.
“She had a bunch of Polaroids up and was sorting through crafting supplies, like her jewelry and other stuff. It kind of just reminded me of the person I used to be. She had a beautiful Persian rug in her tent, good style and dreamcatchers hanging from the ceiling. It helped remind me that I want to be me again one day. The things that brought me joy were my hobbies and art. I used to be a photographer and artist. I used to repurpose jewelry, like bones and other found objects. … It brought me joy to see that you can still do that out here,” Aarika said.
“I think that as a community, we get bullied and harassed. I think we are the most misunderstood. Like, we are the most traumatized, hurt people of society, and really, we could use the most love and care instead of the opposite. I think that everyone out here is very, very hurt, and that’s why we’re here.”
Tears filled her eyes as she felt the weight of it all.
“It’s very sad the way that people bully us and treat us like we’re not even people anymore. They don’t know why we’re out here. They don’t know how we got here or what our stories are. And even though I have my community here, I still feel kind of scared. There’s so many people against us out here, intimidating us, shooting guns while driving by a block away.”