Emergency shelters are supposed to be safe havens. A CalMatters investigation uncovered a different reality. Patrick Hogan, an unhoused man interviewed for the series, shared why he and many other Californians without a home are reluctant to stay in shelters.
In spring 2017, I became homeless. I had been living in Orange for several months while I was working for a temp agency. But in March I had to move since the house I was living in got sold, and I sought refuge near the Santa Ana riverbed.
Over the course of the next 10 months, I made friendships, got into fights, witnessed police misconduct and the gutlessness of politicians. There was cruelty that the homeless inflicted on each other, including abusive relationships, rumor-mongering and bullying. There was also tremendous kindness from both the homeless and the surrounding communities alike.
Then came U.S. District Court Judge David Carter with a temporary restraining order delaying a sweep and a demand that Orange County come up with a plan to deal with the crisis. To the homeless community Carter was a hero, and what was once a total distrust of those in power had become a godsend to the homeless.
In a year and some odd months, the county revealed their slapped-together, uncaring plan — not to help the homeless, as they claimed, but to rid the county of as many homeless and by any means that they could.
Two quotes stuck in my mind when the riverbed was eventually cleared in 2018: One, by Judge Carter as he visited the riverbed for one last time, saying, “Everyone will receive housing.” Then he waved to the crowd and was gone.
The other quote came from then-Orange County Supervisor Andrew Do, as the homeless were transitioning from 30-day motels into shelters. “If people are not ready for housing, the housing we provide them will become crack houses,” he said. This past summer, Do plead guilty to embezzling $13 million from a program to feed elderly Vietnamese people.
As for Carter’s quote, he should have said “Hardly anyone will get housing,” because that is the reality of it today. Frankly, why house them? The shelter system in place today is designed to isolate, depress, infantilize and frustrate those who are unlucky enough to get in them.
That’s right, I said unlucky enough.
This is how shelters turn hope into despair. They will promise all kinds of support for the guests to find housing. What does that mean? It means nothing because your navigator does not actually find you housing, they only help secure a voucher — sometimes.
Take Nicole L., who was in a Salvation Army shelter on and off for more than five years. Instead of her navigator pointing her in the direction to get a voucher, Nicole had to go off and find her own, which according to her, she found with relative ease. Nicole felt she was misled to keep her inside a facility. And this sentiment gets reinforced by many of those who are in the shelters in Orange County.
This is the beginning of despair. The unrelenting and ever-changing rules in the shelters — rules that are designed to keep us feeling warehoused, controlled and off-balance. That includes permission to leave, searches when we return, limits on possessions, no food from the outside and no visitors. Grievance processes consist of no action once they’re written but instead include retaliation for filing them — anything from loss of personal possessions to exiting a program at any given time.
These kinds of policies seem to be the norm. Once you’re expelled you are given a return date of either 30, 60 or 90 days, so going through a revolving door is part of the experience. Shelters often call either the liaison officer or the police officer that referred you and let them know that you have been expelled. Sooner or later police will contact you with an immediate search or trumped-up violations that are designed to do one of two things: Get you back in the money-making nonprofit shelters or run you out of town.
That was before Proposition 36, the plan of vertical prosecution voters approved last fall.
Coupled with the shelters are their cousins, the converted motels. Although they’re unable to house as many people as shelters can, they still can make an impact in clearing the streets of the homeless. However these mini-shelters are far more insidious and dangerous. They’re covered by rules that restrict guests’ movements and isolate them with no visitors, no food in the main building and a variety of restrictions designed, like the shelters, to turn you from adult to child.
If you’re in a state of depression already, now it’s worsened and the hope you felt by finally getting inside gets quickly stamped out by the isolated place you are now warehoused in but you’re also supposed to be grateful for.
Many of those I talked to — and even myself — sometimes reflect on the riverbed days. There was more freedom of movement, more feeling of community, people looking out for each other, including people outside the homeless community. There was a real sense of belonging.
Yes, there was uncertainty. Yes, there was thievery and sometimes violence against each other. But any day you could go up to a camp and ask for a drink or something to eat and not be turned away. We helped each other.
Now it seems like those whose job it is to help have such a callous indifference. It’s no wonder people are in shelters three to five years before they get housing vouchers. And there is literally no help once you receive a voucher. It’s up to you to find a place that will accept it.
So the question becomes: What can we do to make it better? How can we make shelters more effective in locating permanent housing for the unhoused?
The No. 1 thing that would have the biggest impact making shelters more effective is oversight. Officials can make an oversight panel that has some teeth and calls for due process when someone is being expelled. Stopping police referrals to shelters will also help since that usually begins a person’s stay with a sense of resistance.
Transparency. For too long, counties have been diluting the death toll of homeless people along with seemingly no accountability for the money pouring into shelters. That, coupled with no follow-up after securing housing vouchers, leaves the shelters pretty much doing and saying whatever they want. And who’s going to say they’re wrong?
But let’s face it. Even if you were able to do all of that, there is still the gigantic hole in this solution that, if rectified, could bring the future homeless a reasonable end: affordable housing.
