Compassion ≠ Justice

Eight years ago, my mom Fran died on a beach in West Haven, CT, my hometown. She died after a long battle with chronic homelessness. Her experience haunts me — and it should haunt us all. My mom was a middle-class white woman, with a loving family, but she lost everything, and had nowhere to go. She became homeless and couldn’t get out — despite me having spent my career fighting to end homelessness and despite the privileges that come with being white, straight, and Catholic. Many compassionate people tried to help but they couldn’t give her what she actually needed, and what all unhoused people need — safe and stable housing.

The problem with compassion is that it is not sufficient. Compassion feels good, but it doesn’t change the system. Compassion doesn’t guarantee housing. Compassion can run low or become fatigued. Compassionate acts can be racist. Compassion allows you to choose who gets helped and how they get helped.

Compassion ≠ Justice

My mom was fortunate to have access to charity, services, and compassionate people. This kept her alive, but barely. The compassion was a band-aid, not a solution. Her substance abuse and mental illness impacted her behavior, which led to judgement and compassion fatigue. Like many who experience homelessness, she was scrappy and did what it took to stay alive — and sometimes she unwittingly burned bridges. Still, many people continued to try to help her, to find temporary shelters and provide resources. She received a lot of compassion — but not the housing justice she needed and deserved.

The compassion she received took many forms.

Money management classes — but no money.

So she had to beg.

SNAP benefits (aka Food Stamps) — but nowhere to keep or prepare food or money to buy toothpaste, deodorant, shoes or other basic necessities.

So she sold her food stamps.

Clothing — but nowhere to wash her clothes.

So she worked under the table and lived at a laundromat.

Occasional therapy and medications — but no way to pay the co pays or track when to take pills.

So she self-medicated and cycled in and out of emergency rooms.

Employment coaching — but nowhere to clean up or rest her head.

So she circled through dozens and dozens of jobs.

Treatment programs that provided temporary stability — but then discharged her back into homelessness.

So she became more depressed.

Promises and commitments. But no solutions.

So she got angry and got arrested.

Applications. Appointments. AA. But no housing.

So she stayed in shelters and storage facilities and couches and all too often behind the church. Until her body gave out at the age of 56.

Each of these compassionate interventions came at a cost. And the lack of housing justice cost my mom her life. Imagine if she had received housing.

My mom’s story is not unique, or rare. Despite what many people think — homelessness is not a personal choice or personal failure. It is policy choice and a failure of our government to care for our most vulnerable neighbors. Study after study after study has shown that housing ends homelessness. Yet we continue to fail to provide affordable housing solutions at the scale of the need. But we can and must change this.

Compassion alone can’t solve this. We need housing justice.

My mom experienced homelessness during the Great Recession. The Obama Administration worked hard to address the economic crisis through the Recovery Act which appropriated $1.5 billion for HUD’s Homelessness Prevention and Rapid Re-housing Program (HPRP). Many good things came out of this but it wasn’t big enough or bold enough to stem the growth in homelessness.

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, more than 560,000 people were homeless in the United States. Imagine if we had provided housing to every single person who needed it? People of color were disproportionally represented in our homeless population before the pandemic and we know they were among the hardest hit by the health and economic impacts of COVID-19. Compassion along won’t solve this. We need housing justice.

We have a scarcity mindset when it comes to addressing this crisis. We make accessing financial assistance too difficult because we don’t trust people. We shy away from “housing for all” because it is too expensive, or we think people should stop certain behaviors before earning housing or “pull themselves up from their bootstraps”, a phrase that refers to an impossible act (think about it). We propose funding to clear our parks of tents but not funding to house the people we sweep away. Imagine if we addressed homelessness with the abundance and audacity of sending a billionaire to space? Or two billionaires to space?

Now is the time.

There is good news — as part of our recovery from the pandemic we now have a once in a generation opportunity to prevent and end homelessness. There is $46 Billion available to prevent evictions and homelessness through the Emergency Rental Assistance program. The expansion of the Child Tax Credit could cut childhood poverty in half by providing direct cash assistance — reducing the likelihood of homelessness. The American Rescue Plan provide 70,000 new housing vouchers and funding to support homeless response systems across the country. This is a good start and we need more. I’m optimistic that this time will be different — if we all join the fight for housing justice. That this time people like my mom will get the help and justice they need.

To honor my mom, I ask you to join the fight for housing Justice. A fight to make sure everyone has access to healthy, safe, and stable housing.

Here’s what you can do:

1. VOTE for candidates who will invest in housing solutions at the scale of the need.
2. Don’t support efforts to criminalize homelessness. Fining people for staying outside or urinating in public when they have nowhere to go doesn’t make since. Sweeping tents out of parks or beaches or sidewalks may make you feel better but does little for unhoused people. If your elected official supports criminalizing homelessness you should sweep them out of office.
3. Outreach and Education: Ake sure your eligible friends, family and neighbors are accessing resources that are available right now. Good policy around rental assistance, tax credits and public benefits are only effective if people access them. These resources can prevent homelessness.
4. Check your privilege: Are you or your family members upset that your tax dollars are providing rental assistance, tax credits, unemployment resources, housing assistance? Ask why after a global pandemic we shouldn’t do anything and everything possible to help people.
5. Ask questions: When you see someone living outside — ask yourself why? Not what the person did or didn’t do. But why as a country we allow our neighbors to live outside.

Yes, we need to be compassionate neighbors but if we want to truly help people like my mom, we also need to fight like hell for housing justice and economic justice and racial justice. Onward!