Speechless in Seattle: Voices from the Sidelines
Back in April, I was asked by a narcotics detective to speak to 6 classes of high school seniors about my participation in a drug diversion court, and share my experience of drug addiction and homelessness. What came out of that day led to a refreshing personal understanding of the work necessary to heal our communities.
The drive out of Seattle that morning was overly pleasant and I was cruising eastbound on I-90 towards Snoqualmie Pass. The air was cool and the green of the trees provided a sense of relief from my social services work at the superior courthouse in downtown Seattle. We arrived at the school tucked away in the Cascades shortly before first period.
For the last two years, I have been working as a resource case manager for a therapeutic court, as well as certified peer counselor and recovery coach for the participants. The population I work with lives with substance use disorder, mental illness, as well as experiences homelessness.
Due to the location of the school being about an hour east of the city limits, I began to think to myself that this community was not aware of the state of affairs in Seattle, and there is a divisive local attitude about what is happening to the city. Just a couple of weeks earlier, a local Seattle news company did a controversial video piece that captured a terrifying image of the conditions of the streets of Seattle, it’s residents, and offered it’s version of the issues and it’s proposed solutions to the homeless crisis, faced by many large American urban areas. It spoke in excess about the people I work with and provide support to. The addicts, criminals, and mentally ill, those homeless people (By the way, all of the aforementioned are titles I have carried at different times in my life, until finding recovery in 2015) That news story gathered testimonies from small business owners, anonymous and retired law enforcement, as well as a handful of folks experiencing crisis. The problem here was that like most media, it held firm to one point of view. It got together people that believed a fearful narrative, rooted in intolerance and frustration. Lawlessness in the streets, powerless police. The proposed underlying cause of homelessness in Seattle: drug addiction. And if I recall correctly, no one in recovery was asked for their input or experience for the story.
Once in the classroom, we went on to present to 6 classes that day, starting with some intros about our personal lives, and for the detective, really humanizing himself in light of his role in our community. There were great questions from the students about law enforcement and how their role fits in engaging larger societal and public health concerns like substance use and mental health, as well as wanting to know from me what it was like to be in active substance use and what I do now to sustain recovery. Upon closing, I was approached by a young man who asked if he could speak to me further about my thoughts on the news piece and issues at hand.
In short and in this case, my personal view has been that the big three in question; addiction, homelessness, and mental illness, have the tendency to perpetuate one another as a response or byproduct of one another.
He said he was personally familiar with the news story, and didn’t say he was for or against the narrative, but was inspired to talk directly to community members, preferably folks living out of doors and living with substance use disorder. He wanted some truth and asked if we could partner in pursuing the information.
After a brief brainstorming session and full disclosure of my personal story, the young man and his friend drove an hour out to my apartment in the Beacon Hill neighborhood of Seattle. Our goal was to walk some of the encampments and interview community members to get their truth to the hows and whys of their situation. We got together a couple packs of smokes and some cash to offer in trade of their personal expertise on the subject matter. One of the seniors had a tape recorder and the other was to take notes on his phone.
Our first conversation was with a 61-year old veteran who said he had been out of doors in Seattle since 2001. When we asked for a few minutes, he put down his book, lit up a smoke and told us how he felt some folks will always live out of doors. He didn’t blame the tech companies and local economy specifically for the continued displacement of residents, but mentioned the atmosphere around here was expensive and places to live and work are challenging to come by. He accesses services through the Veterans Administration, but due to the rising costs of living and limitations on financial security and benefits, he says it’s easier to remain outside, relatively close to the VA.
The second interview was with a young woman, probably early 30’s, traveling musician, who had been using heroin for roughly a decade. She was extremely passionate about music and the arts. When asked about what she thought could unify the community on solutions to the ‘us vs. them’, she said she thought an arts engagement and food event where all community members could “come together and hear from one another, finding common ground in being face to face with each other.”
Next, we came across a man and his wife who had been back and forth over the years from Portland to Seattle. He disclosed that they hadn’t used substances in years, and much of their barriers to housing and reintegration has been halted by his criminal history from earlier substance use. He discussed some service models in Portland he had been familiar with that helped to mitigate some of those barriers while rebuilding the necessary credit and rental history to make the leap back into market-rate housing.
While speaking with him, a late-model Chrysler sedan pulled off of the I-5/I-90 interchange and a middle-aged man hopped out of the vehicle. He walked through the camp handing out cold waters to the residents standing in front of their tents and make shift cabins. We were told he comes through in the afternoons with some water and snacks and helps with some of the local emergency feeding programs.
We felt we had some solid information and experience, and began walking up out of the area known as ‘The Jungle’. When we hit 12th Ave, I turned toward the young men and offered to try a pass by the Navigation Center.
The Navigation Center is a shelter of sorts, with a surrounding open-air market for substances. It is a low-barrier program/facility serving high-needs individuals experiencing homelessness and crisis. In the picture captioned above, it would stand to the right across the other side of the bridge. Many people lived in tents that once stood in the green, cleared area of the photo, and accessed resources at the center.
When we crossed the street, I saw a single tent standing atop the stairwell that went down to the Goodwill, with a young man and two women milling around.
I asked if they would be willing to discuss their situation, and answer a few questions, and quick to say yes, they offered what hospitality they could. The young man’s partner laid out a blanket and asked us to grab a seat. As we dove into the Q&A, a couple of them took out their preferred substance and began preparing it.
They went on to describe what it’s like to go in and out of the correctional system on retail theft warrants and never quite receive the necessary help, being criminalized for trying to steal a jacket to keep warm in the winter, while watching people drive into the donation line at the Goodwill on the street below. The intention being that their donations are helping others, while it is put back on the shelf for a profit.
The young man’s Failure To Appear warrants from Oregon have amassed close to several hundred thousands of dollars. He wondered what would happen if they were willing to put up 1/10th of that money for SUD treatment. “Maybe they are?” he said. “But most likely I’ll sit in jail for a few months and be released with no tools or resources. That’s been my experience. How do they make decisions about us without our input? How could anyone really know what will be helpful without speaking to me?” he asked.
Just then, something dawned on me. As I looked upon the young man, heroin in hand, instead of feeling triggered and anxious in the presence of the narcotic, I felt full freedom, more than I have in the last 4 years of my recovery. In that moment I truly realized what was missing in the local narrative, the point that has been missed. Joe is loved, Joe is seen, Joe is heard, and Joe gets a sense of purpose in his community today.
So what about the interviewees? Are they feeling heard (without being criminalized), seen (as human), loved (with all their imperfections)? Not having a roof over one’s head or not being fully abstinent from drugs/alcohol should not disqualify ANY person from their most intrinsic need for connection and understanding to be met.
What I have left out so far is the first question the seven members of our community were asked….. “Have you seen or heard about the ‘Seattle is Dying’ piece from the local news?”
Everyone of them answered yes.
So my take away here, aside from the fact that not everyone living out of doors are using substances (4/7 were, in this case) is that when Paige, Matt, John and the others (whom asked not to have their names used) were asked for their opinion and take on causes and conditions of things, they happily opened up. They weren’t angry, frustrated or intolerant. They just wanted a chance to be at the table, and why wouldn’t they? They already knew decisions were being made about them, without them. It’s their community. It’s YOUR community. Whether you live out of doors, shoot dope and steal to support your habit, I see you, and your voice matters.
Cities and communities that displace people due in large to socioeconomic factors and inequities perpetuated by racism, gentrification, marginalization and rising rental costs , faster than they can help them, will likely fall into a battle of ‘us vs. them’. And when the run-of-the-mill resources ‘fail’ those that ‘have not’, we will again resort to punitive measures. Whether it be jails and institutions, sweeps and further becoming invisible in our own community-the disconnection and isolation is devastating to one’s existence and ability to thrive.
I get it. Taxpayers and householders want to be heard. The ones who say they are tired of looking at the tents, orange syringe caps in the park, folks in mental health crisis. My partner and I have had both our vehicles broken into (maybe it’s easier for me to be compassionate because I used to car prowl and sleep in doorways) Whatever the scenario, the truth is that those voices have always been heard, always a step ahead and notch above the call of basic humanity, and that has continued to hinder real progress and ability to heal the wounds of those still suffering.
So have we really tried everything?
It’s time to bring in those that have been sidelined. I think for real change to be achieved, our communities have to be willing to hear the needs and conditions of those whom have had the decisions about them made for them. No amount of money alone is going to do for someone what our listening can. We can no longer allow funding to take flight without guiding the landing into the ability to address individuals, rather than grouping them into one subculture. Whether it’s recovery from experiencing homelessness, SUD or mental illness, that process is meant to be a transformational personal experience and journey. What are the chances of that transformational personal experience happening if funding and resources are thrown into cookie-cutter models, hoping for quick, big fixes?
Let’s strive to break down the conventional narratives and approaches and pull out a chair for our neighbors. In the case of Seattle, the city needs to be prepared to hear from the tens of thousands of its unhoused citizens. Many of which will require culturally competent resources, assessments, treatment and housing, for starters. But we’ll never know what is truly helpful to people unless they’re in front of us, so I encourage our communities to go out and get in front of them. If our approaches boast we’re about meeting people where they are at, let’s hold ourselves accountable and do just that.
I commend those of you already making this effort. The outreach teams, nonprofits, peers and social workers. You are seen, and I appreciate your purpose in our communities. I’m aware many of you are in recovery and/or have faced the adversity of these crisis’ before. We can be effective, and that’s why I do this work now.
In my personal journey, I was first heard and seen in treatment settings offered through a therapeutic court model and the rooms of recovery. To engage in treatment and attend mutual support meetings were not exactly the easiest and most accessible steps I’ve taken in life, and many of those steps there was a case manager or peer that listened and inspired hope. That’s where my healing began.
The last minutes of the conversation with the 3 people outside of the Navigation Center closed in one of the young women stating that “we’ve been told for years what we should do to get clean and off the streets, but we’ve never been shown. I really think peers and mentors would be super helpful.” she said. At our county’s heroin and prescription task force meetings I’ve asked to get peers and recovery coaches out in the field with law enforcement, people like me and countless others that know what it’s like to live with addiction or homelessness, and are ready to listen. Our local police and officials ought to be asking to do ride-alongs with us, those of us who have made it out. Those of us that have loved and lost someone to substance use disorder. We live to tell and live to help, and we have direct experiences in what works.
I was at a large gathering with national recovery advocates last week, and one of the most important statements I heard was “If you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu.”
Food for thought.
