Imagine you found yourself homeless

Brandon Bradford is a political consultant and one of the folks I follow on Twitter. He recently posted this:

Periodic question: If you woke up homeless, hungry, with $20 to your name, and had none of the connections you have now, how would you get off the streets?

There were 4,000+ responses, and I flipped through enough of them to get a sense that the responding tweeters were mostly earnest and/or thoughtful and/or full of hubris and/or woefully naive.

It all got me thinking about what I might do.

Because I live in Boston, for starters, I'm going with waking up homeless, hungry and with $20 to my name in Boston, which has better support and services than most places. And, although, according to the thought experiment I've lost all my connections, I'm going with I'd still have my awareness of the shelter system and, at least at a high level, how it works.

So the first thing I'd do is get me to St. Francis House, Boston's largest day shelter, where I've been involved for years (as a 25-year board member until last September, as an occasional volunteer during that time, and as an active, regular volunteer since 2016.

I love St. Francis House, especially my interactions with guests when I sign them up for showers, hand them a toothbrush or clean undies, or ask whether they want salad on their lunch tray. (My regular SFH gig is in the Resource Center - showers, toiletries, computers, phones, etc.  - but I also do at least one shift a week serving in the kitchen, and occasionally work in the clothing department.)

Once I got to SFH and grabbed breakfast or lunch or an in-between sandwich, I'd ask to talk to a case worker who could help me navigate "the system," advising me on how to sign up for whatever aid I'm entitled to - SSI, SNAP benefits (a.k.a. food stamps) - and to get on as many housing lists as I could get on. (SFH has 56 units of single room occupancy housing. Folks get their own room, but share bathroom and kitchen facilities. Before covid, there was a 7 year waiting list to get one of these rooms.)

But navigating the system takes time. 

When I woke up homeless, would I have any ID?

Getting a new ID (Mass License or equivalent, Social Security card) ain't easy - especially if you don't have your birth certificate (especially if you're from another state or - far worse - another country). 

You can hang on the phone for hours - while others are breathing down your neck because they need to use the phone, too - before talking to a human who may or may not be willing and able to help you out. And if they need to call you back, and you don't have a phone, where are they going to call you back? And getting an ID isn't free. That $20 I woke up with? It wouldn't get you very far.

Anyway, a good case manager could help with all this, but case workers are not miracle workers. And even when they manage to work miracles, miracles take time.

So I'd (eventually) get a government ID, and maybe line up some government bennies. In Massachusetts, we have one of the better social safety nets, so I'd be entitled to some income and food assistance. And if I'm lucky, I won't lose the Electronics Benefits Transfer card I'm issued to get my food benefits.

And I'd better have that ID if I want to open a bank account so I can get my Social Security benefits sent there. 

The good news at St. Francis House is that you can get your mail there - including my Social Security check, if I don't have direct deposit.

Insta-homeless, I might just have the clothes on my back, so I'd see if I could get some new duds. The undies would be the same ones I'd get if I were in prison. (Same supplier.) Just the basics: cheap cotton. The socks would be Bombas, which donates a pair of socks for each one they sell. But they wouldn't be the cute colored Bombas socks I wore in my pre-homeless life. They're going to be basic black or white. Nothing wrong with that, but they wouldn't be cute. The other clothing would be a crap shoot, depending on what had been donated. Fortunately, there's usually a pretty good supply of women's clothing, as women - in my experience - are more likely to jettison clothing before it's worn out. 

As a homeless woman, among other things, at St. Francis House, I'd probably be able to procure okay clothing. Maybe not exactly what I wanted - although, since a lot of our donors are middle aged and older Talbot's shoppers, it might be right up my alley - but okay. And I'd probably be able to get a warm enough coat. 

Shoes would be a problem. "Gently used" donated shoes are never great, and they're always in short supply. The new sneakers donated by, say, Converse, probably wouldn't be in my size. And they might be weird ones, that just didn't sell. (Flamingo pattern.) In winter, you might luck out and get a pair of new boots, but shoes and boots are the hardest thing to come by if you're in need. And if you're on the streets, good footwear is the clothing item you're most in need of.

Anyway, before I put on my new clothing, if it's the morning, I'd be able to sign up for a shower. What I'd do with my old, dirty clothing, I have no idea. 

Do I have a backpack I can stow them in until I find a place to wash dirty clothing? (Good luck with that.) Do I have a shopping bag, a garbage bag? Is my original clothing even worth salvaging? 

Even supposing I do have something to carry my stuff in, just how much stuff can I carry around with me?

And the stuff I couldn't carry wouldn't include the stuff I have a sentimental attachment to. Like my grandmother's cookie jar.

Because I'm an elderly woman, I'd actually be more privileged when it comes to services, and I might even scoot to the front of a housing line, so I wouldn't have to spend all that many nights "sleeping" on a cot in a large dorm room in an overnight shelter. Where I'd probably have a nervous breakdown on Night One. Or, worse (maybe) out on the streets, where I'd be physically vulnerable.

There's nothing about being homeless that's easy. There's nothing about being homeless that doesn't take time to resolve.

However smart, competent, and tough you think you are, if you're on the streets, you are up against it.

I've just set out a circumstance in which I somehow manage to take care of my basic needs. (And that's in a state with a strong social safety net, and in a city where there's a reasonably good shelter system. I often talk to folks in the Resource Center who've made their way to Boston from Florida or Georgia - sometimes even in the dead of winter - because they heard they could get better help here.)

Try looking for a job if you don't have a phone, your own computer, an address, clean clothing, or a place to get a get a good night's sleep. Especially if you have (or had) a substance abuse problem and/or mental illness and/or major health problems and/or you just got out of jail and/or you don't have much of an employment track record and/or you've burnt every bridge you've ever walked over.

When we learn that one of our regulars has found a job or a place to live, we literally jump for joy. The only downside is that we don't tend to see them after that happens. Oh, the regulars we've gotten to know may show up for a meal or some clothing for a while, but they're not as dependent on us on a daily basis. 

So I miss seeing Kenneth, and Deborah, and Darryl, and Mike. And hope their luck is still holding. 

I have zero illusions about how easy it is to wish/work/save your way out of homelessness. I can glibly tick off what I'd do if I found myself on the streets with twenty bucks to my name. But in real life, I'd be frightened, depressed, and stressed out of my gourd. 

I'm glad there are organizations like St. Francis House. And the Women's Lunch Place. And the Pine Street Inn. 

But, even with all that I know about the resources available to the homeless in Boston, even with all the strengths I'm equipped with, the idea of being homeless and contactless is something I can't wrap my head around. 

All honor to those who manage to rebuild their lives and make their way out of the terrible experience that is homelessness. And all sympathy to those who aren't there yet, and may never get there.

Good question, Brandon. Thanks for asking it.