NEWSBYNOAH JENNINGS

Nerds rejoice!

A new article by the London Guardian's Ben Meyers adds support to the popular argument that libraries are the most enduring institution of public support for the homeless. As one of the last truly public spaces in many communities, libraries offer a unique opportunity for connecting underserved homeless individuals with necessary outreach.

While awareness of the library-as-shelter issue is increasingly on the public radar, Meyers rightly points out that the stacks have been used for at least a century as a refuge for the poorest of the poor in both the UK and across the pond. What he offers as evidence isn't the latest sociological study, but a survey of books written by or about the homeless.

Featured in Meyers' British homeless literature hall of fame are The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp, Down and Out in Paris and London, Stuart: A Life Backwards, Hunger and The Grass Arena, among others. (Add these to our own End Homelessness Ameri-centric reading list and you've got yourself a pretty decent survey of the homeless experience vis-à-vis words and letters -- anybody wanna start a book club?)

As I write this post, I spot a client across the street who will likely die soon. All the signs point to this possibility: the substance abuse issues, an absent network of support, a fear of shelters and closed spaces because of trauma, being HIV positive, the cold winter -- the list goes on. All this fits with what we know about homelessness: for many people, it's fatal.

If that's not shocking, please read it again: when you see the chronically homeless, you're very likely looking at someone who's dying. That's not melodrama. It's fact.

Because of this, I was positively thrilled to read about new efforts in Hartford, Connecticut. There, as in an increasing number of cities, outreach workers are considering making use of the Vulnerability Index, a method of strengthening support for the homeless by targeting those who need help immediately.

What is being considered in Hartford is inspiring. Hopefully one day soon, outreach workers armed with questionnaires and a willingness to make real contact with their clients will set out to find homeless people and ask about health history, resources, times homeless and so on. All of this would be done with an eye toward determining how dangerous it is for each individual to be on the streets. This evidenced-based approach can influence the number of nights a client is offered at a given shelter, or may even result in the homeless person securing housing more quickly.

Last week, criminalization of the homeless in Boulder, Colorado got the attention of End Homelessness readers as grassroots activists fought to put an end to a camping ordinance that unfairly targets the homeless. Thanks to Change.org readers and a protest organized by the homeless and their supporters, Mayor Susan Osborne agreed to make camping tickets a priority. She also ordered her city manager to write up an emergency moratorium on camping tickets. It looked like a victory. But politics being what they are, Mayor Osborne backslid. The following is an open letter to Mayor Osborne.

Sign our petition to keep the pressure on Boulder's leadership.

Dear Mayor Osborne,

I'm writing to you because we want the same things. We share this little city and want it to be a safe place for everyone, both the homeless and the housed, those alone on the streets and those at home with families, the wealthy and the not-so-much, small business owners and the unemployed. I write to you as a friend because I know we share a desire to end criminalization of the homeless in  Boulder and uphold the human rights of every single citizen. That's why you became mayor; that's why I write about and work with the homeless.

I read this weekend in the local paper that you felt "boxed in" by petitioners and protesters at the Boulder city council meeting last Tuesday. You said this pressure was largely the reason you promised to consider an emergency ordinance putting a temporary halt to ticketing homeless people for sleeping in public places.

Now it looks as if you've rescinded that promise, citing the need to reconsider without the interference of a public meeting or the review of the citizens who elected you. The paper made it sound as if you only agreed to stop punishing the homeless because you were intimidated by all the protesters. That's disappointing, because it's exactly the opposite of what our grassroots coalition hoped to do. The point was to convince, not coerce. And now it sounds as if you believe we twisted your arm.

Rather than intimidating you, we hoped to inspire you with the possibility of creating a city that does not punish those who don't have homes. We hoped to appeal to not just your sentiment to do the right thing and end criminalization of the homeless in Boulder, but to your sound judgment as well, based on overwhelming evidence that anti-homeless laws are bad policy.

It seems more likely to me that you were influenced by other stakehol

It used to be so much easier to make fun of the homeless, y'all.

When big-time spikes in joblessness, foreclosures and even hunger were still only a twinkle in a banker's eye, it was a breeze to mock families too poor for the privilege of shelter. True, it was harder to laugh at the homeless kids (not impossible, thankfully), but the ones suffering from mental illness? Hilarious! The way they might have manic episodes on the bus or dance right there on the streets because they couldn't afford psychiatric care was just too much.

And what was the harm? Before all this crybaby financial crisis crap, we probably didn't know anyone who was even at risk of being homeless. It was easier to think of them as sub-human, then.

But those times are long behind us, sadly. C'est la vie. What's left is a positively dreary climate of social awareness that makes mocking the homeless very tricky indeed. People are freezing on the streets, lines stretch around the block for people wanting home loan adjustments they'll never get, the use of food stamps is at an all-time high, family and child homelessness is skyrocketing, political leaders seem largely out-of-touch with what actually helps people in times of financial trouble. Oh dear. Add to this what some might call an inspiring upsurge in popular activism and advocacy on behalf of the homeless and I began to think that poking fun at the very poor might just be past tense forever. Sigh.

But turn that frown upside down. There's hope yet! The fashion world heard our lamentations over lost opportunities for cruelty against the homeless and they have, indeed, delivered. And how. Recently, one prominent fashion designer, Vivienne Westwood, set Milan on fire with a homeless-inspired new men's line. Let the good times roll.

Here's what Vivienne's people have to say: "Perhaps the oddest of heroes to emerge this season, Vivienne Westwood found inspiration in the roving vagrant whose daily get-up is battle gear for the harsh weather conditions ... quilted bombers and snug hoodies also work well in keeping the vagrant warm."

Terri Sternburg is a whiz at poker, loves a good novel and has a soft spot for every cat and dog she comes across. Once a concert violinist, she's someone I'd love to have as godmother to my children, a wise woman in her 50s that I'm happy to call a friend and an ally.

She's also homeless and struggling to put a stop to the enforcement of a city camping ordinance in Boulder, Colorado that unfairly singles out those without shelter. You can help her by letting the mayor of Boulder know that being homeless is not a crime.

"The homeless seem to have no voice. We agree to this crazy invisibility that's forced on us from every side. We put our heads down and trudge around," Terri says. "But through fighting for this basic right of having a place to sleep, I have a voice. I can offer myself to this and say, 'We matter.'"

Today, with her grassroots organization the Homeless Ordinance Moratorium Endeavor (HOME), she'll lead a protest against fining the homeless $100 for sleeping in the open. The ordinance forbids camping "within any park, parkway, recreation area, open space, or other public or private property." This is happening in a city with far more homeless individuals than shelter beds. Stand with Terri and the homeless of Boulder. Call for a repeal of the ordinance.

The law simply doesn't work. A resolution from HOME suggesting an alternative solution to the current ordinance points out that from 2005 to August 2009, the city issued 1,583 camping tickets. Only 149 of these tickets have been paid. To repeat, less than 10% of all tickets given were paid. But -- this is where it gets interesting -- violators of this law spent a total of 1,516 nights in jail because they simply couldn't pay the fine. A question naturally arises: is the point of this law really to promote health and safety in the city, as officials have said, or is it to hide the homeless in the local jail?

Usually a leader in progressive social policies, Boulder joins a list of cit

It's very easy to think that a discussion concerning homelessness should be apolitical. It's easy to argue that those of us who fight for the homeless are above the fray: we're for whoever is for the homeless. Why waste time arguing, one colleague writes, when fighting homelessness helps everyone? Right. But a disaster far more immediate, desperate and far-reaching than relative poverty and homelessness in the United States reveals how mistaken we are when those of us who wish to help the homeless believe in the naive stance of political neutrality.

I'm talking about the earthquake in Haiti and the positively bizarre views of self-damning televangelist Pat Robertson. His comment that Haiti brought on its widespread devastation because of having made a "pact with the devil" reminded me of something that's heard all the time in the conservative American discourse on the homeless: blame the victim.

Hardly a novel sentiment, blaming the victim is a stance emblematic of a divide between the country's left and right. The conservative argument focuses on what the homeless have done wrong and how we can better correct these mistakes. The parallel "pact with the devil" myth concerning homelessness in the United States is about drug abuse, or poor financial decisions or whatever -- the point is to reduce a pervasive humanitarian disaster that reveals shameful truths about wealth disparity to something that can't be pinned on policy decisions that perpetuate poverty. Quoth Pat Robertson: it's because they messed with God, you see.

Before the recession, millions were already at the tipping point. When it takes 3 minimum wage jobs to keep an apartment, as it does in many American cities, economic security at best means making it to the next paycheck.

For undocumented day laborers in New York City, security in every sense is even more precarious. A story in Friday's New York Times describes the plight of immigrants now homeless who fall through the cracks. Because of fears that they may be deported or discriminated against, these newly homeless from Ecuador, Mexico and elsewhere often avoid the shelter system altogether.

Although it's difficult to determine how many of these homeless day laborers now people NYC, the population is catching the attention of homelessness advocates. According to the Times, "With their isolation and day-to-day existence, the laborers are perhaps the most invisible and hardest-to-reach victims of the recession...No one knows for sure how many have become homeless since the downturn brought construction projects to a virtual standstill and sapped them of jobs that once paid as much as $200 a day. Most of them are illegal immigrants who may be on the streets one day and off the next, depending on their work."

An additional challenge to these day laborers is that shelter requirements are often too restrictive to accommodate a work schedule that changes with unpredictable frequency. Because of this, these work-seeking homeless are left in the cold: "Ignacio Sanchez, 50, who has a wife and three children in Mexico, said a week before Christmas that he had worked once since the beginning of the month. Rodrigo Saldaña, 41, who has a wife and five children in Ecuador, said he had not worked at all last month. Both said they had spent nights sleeping on the train or by the railroad tracks."

Everyone knows a mainstream, disciplined, and socially responsible journalism industry that reveals deeper truths about things like homelessness is dead.

This same industry has been droning on about every detail of its uncomfortably self-indulgent gasps from beyond the grave for at least 10 years. At first, the thought was outrageous. Could it really be possible that an institution (sometimes) devoted to uncovering the substance of everyday life might give way (even more) to corporate stranglehold? Would its duty to document what matters (for the most part) really succumb to an idiotic crustiness, a stubborn resistance to change? Yes to both. And how.

In 2010, the local paper is positively irrelevant while publications of national significance are noteworthy mostly because of their ability to cater to Wall Street or user-friendly web pages. The thought of a Baby Boomer Era photojournalist stubbornly proclaiming the social responsibility of his profession seems quaint next to the overwhelming din of a world entranced by Perez Hilton's masturbatory typing.

It's no surprise, then, that the most talked about homelessness photograph last year was a joke. The picture was taken by Pablo Martinez Monsivais for the Associated Press around March of 2009 and has become more or less semi-iconic, if that means anything. You know it: the one with a homeless man snapping a picture of Michelle Obama in line at a soup kitchen. Funny. You know, because it's funny that someone on the streets might have the audacity to pick up a paid-by-the-minute track phone from Cricket or Virgin.

Get it? It's supposed to be surprising, unexpected (For more on this, see Shannon's piece on the 10 Most Notable Homeless Stories of 2009 above). But the deep social commentary inherent to this shitty picture goes further: it provokes interesting discussion, too!  Examples of possible ignorant and distorting "dialogues" at time of this picture's release included, "If this unidentified meal recipient is too poor to buy his own food, how does he afford a cellphone?". That gem of incisive social criticism is from the LA Times, where you might expect a sconce more awareness in a city with 40,000-ish homeless.

The buzz kill at the pundit party comes when you consider the human wages of covering up with an unexamined editorial choice the painful realities of an as-yet-undead recession.

Look back. The last time our poorest faced such overwhelming problems in this country was the Great Depression. We hear that all the time. What we don't hear with any great regularity is that a community of writers, photographers, artists, and folklorists organized around this 1930s economic disaster to illuminate the crisis and make it impossible to ignore. We don't hear an admission from journalists that they're too underfunded and unmotivated to flood the public imagination with images of a homeless population that far surpasses the Great Depression's at its worst. We don't hear is that families and children are still suffering deeply because of the loss of a socially responsible (or even aware) community of journalists.

Then whose responsibility is it to document these problems? Who steps up to the plate if the people getting paid to uncover this Great Recession are shilling for Shell Petroleum, etc?

We do.

The continued development of a robust and critically engaged community of citizen journalists would undoubtedly be an aid to stemming the tide of homelessness in the United States. But let's step back for the moment. By citizen journalism I don't mean the same thing, maybe, as what's usually discussed. Citizen journalism as reported by corporate media outlets usually means that you create the content then give it away to large organizations that profit by way of web traffic from the work you've done. A version of citizen journalism that strives to do more than save money for dying news outlets means a cell phone camera, a social conscience, a web community like Change.org or whatever, and your own dedication to fighting for the country's most vulnerable.

We can all do that. Here's an experiment I tried. Talk to a homeless person on the way to work. Ask to take her picture. Post the picture on your cubicle, Facebook page, wherever. Field the context questions your co-workers ask as they walk by and wonder about it. Look up the answers to what you don't know. Ask why the person is there at all and without a home. Asking questions: that's what citizen journalism means.

Doing this puts you in great historical company. During the Great Depression, the photographer responsible for the powerful picture above, Dorothy Lange, completed an extraordinary body of work devoted entirely to share croppers suffering from lost farms. She gave her pictures to any paper that would take them because it was that important to her that people saw what was happening. That's some role model, right?

So my wish for 2010? That today's million citizen photojournalist Dorothy Langes step up to create a lasting, world changing series of images that document the current homelessness crisis with poignancy and integrity. Let's make sure the pictures of the homeless receiving the most attention this year are those that really matter.

Image by Dorothy Lange "Migrant Mother" courtesy of the Library of Congress

A recent story in the Boston Globe intended to be a saccharine human interest gloss on homelessness might actually, and quite indirectly, do something more than warm hearts. Reporter Milton Valencia covered the experiences of the homeless members of a  knitting group at a medical respite shelter in South Boston. It's a nice story, complete with sweet quotes from down-and-out mothers who've found a kind of "therapeutic community" in this unexpected fellowship.

But forget the sentimentality for the moment. What's absolutely wonderful about this story isn't so much the human interest and pathos, though I certainly hope the emotional story turned the heads of those otherwise indifferent to the homeless. What's great about this piece is its prominent, full-color picture of a homeless, black man knitting together with an elderly, white woman. I don't know about you, but I find the juxtaposition of multiple broken stereotypes in the image to be startling and not a little bit refreshing. You'll excuse me if I'm making a mountain of the proverbial mole hole, but this small gesture to the unexpected does heaps to fight stigma against the homeless. Kudos to the Globe for the perhaps unintentional boon to homeless advocacy in the Boston area.

But let's not forget about the group itself. Secondary to the picture, this really is a story worth considering for all those knitters and crafters anxious to get involved in their community. From the Globe, "At the Barbara McInnis House in the South End, where people dealing with homelessness also suffer the pains of medical illnesses, a surprising sort of therapy has brought them together with volunteers in what has become a curative social group. Young and old, men and women, a grandmother and a young pregnant woman all use arts and crafts to ease their minds of struggles ranging from disabilities to kidney disease to drug addiction." Not many shelters out there have the capacity to care for both the body and the heart.

And that's a shame. There should be more shelters like the Barbara McInnis House. Respite medical care for the homeless is a deplorable service gap in most communities. Scraping together enough resources for the creation and maintenance of a strong shelter system is hard enough. For many areas, providing staffed medical care for those who remain sick and without shelter during the day-- it's impossible. When the average chronically homeless individual dies more than 20 years earlier than the general population, that's criminal public neglect.

Yet another reason why we should keep our eyes trained on the current wrangling over health care reform on the  hill.

'Tis the season for lambasting companies that choose profit over relieving this country's housing crisis. This time around, the Scrooge Award goes to Goldman Sachs, whose loan collection subsidiary Litton Loan Servicing blocks attempts to modify loans while its parent company doles out massive bonuses to company executives.

According to ABC News, "With the exception of maybe AIG, no firm has come to symbolize Main Street's disgust with Wall Street practices more than Goldman. In a move that caused a global backlash, Goldman has said it expects to set aside more than $20 billion for bonuses and other forms of employee compensation and benefits at the end of the year."

Looks like a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past is in order. Goldman Sachs was a major beneficiary of the taxpayer bailout TARP. While they've paid back the $10 billion we loaned them in this agreement, they've apparently turned a blind eye to the importance of social capital, choosing growth at the narrow bottom line and top-level incentive over the creation of sustainable communities.

Meanwhile, Litton makes it harder for families to keep their homes. "Loan servicers [like Litton] make their money on late fees, so there is a perverse incentive for them not to work out solutions," said Julia Gordon, senior policy counsel at the Washington, D.C.-based Center for Responsible Lending. "Meanwhile, there is zero incentive for them to help a family stay in their home." To date, Litton has assisted in the modification of only 12 percent of qualified client home loans. This is the worst variety of stinginess.

This holiday season, let's send a message to Goldman Sachs and other Scrooges who profit from an unhealthy and broken housing system: no more.

Image from Yahoo!