Home Sweet Motel Room

Streets are unsafe for children. Shelters have waiting lists. And Aunt Judy's couch is no longer an option. As a result, many newly homeless families are moving into motel rooms to ride out the economic storm. At the same time, they're flying under the radar of the government and social service agencies in place to help them. They are the "hidden homeless."

According to today's NY Times, motels across the country are quickly becoming "de facto" low-income housing for displaced families and individuals:

As the recession has deepened, longtime workers who lost their jobs are facing the terror and stigma of homelessness for the first time, including those who have owned or rented for years. Some show up in shelters and on the streets, but others, like the Hayworths, are the hidden homeless - living doubled up in apartments, in garages or in motels, uncounted in federal homeless data and often receiving little public aid.

While we know there are limitations to the federal counts (as I've discussed in previous posts), it's still troubling to know that these families aren't being included in homeless counts. They are, after all, struggling with the trauma and challenges just as much as anyone else, so they're just as eligible for many of the great programs that are out there to help them. But today's article highlights just how many homeless people our point in time counts are missing. 

In other words, homelessness in America is worse than we think.

While it's critical to discuss the importance of homeless census methodology and definitions, there's no denying that living in a motel takes a heavy toll on the families and children. Here's a glimpse into motel life:

"People asking for help are from a wider demographic range than we've seen in the past, middle-income families," said Terry Lowe, director of community services in Anaheim, California. The motels range from those with tattered rugs and residents who abuse alcohol and drugs to newer places with playgrounds and kitchenettes. With names like the Covered Wagon Motel and the El Dorado Inn, they look like any other modestly priced stopover inland from the ritzy beach towns. But walk inside and the perception immediately changes.

In the evening, the smell of pasta sauce cooked on hot plates drifts through half-open doors; in the morning, children leave to catch school buses. Families of three, six or more are squeezed into a room, one child doing homework on a bed, jostled by another watching television. Children rotate at bedtime, taking their turns on the floor. Some families, like the Malpicas, in a motel in Anaheim, commandeer a closet for baby cribs.

While these families will continue living paycheck to paycheck, HUD is preparing to distribute stimulus money to local service organizations for rapid rehousing, prevention, and school assistance for homeless children. This money will likely have a positive effect on those living in cramped, crowded, and sometimes unsafe motel conditions. But can this critical help come soon enough?