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After five months in and out of the hospital managing multiple chronic health conditions, Fred Myers was uncertain of his next steps. 

“My situation became where I was a bit homeless. I was in the hospital at that point, and after I got out, I didn’t know where I was gonna go,” he says. 

The staff in his doctor’s office heard about Rapid Village Columbia and learned Fred would be eligible to become a resident of the village. With the solitude of a private shelter, support staff to help him obtain the medicines he needs, and the companionship of his emotional support dog, Thunder, things started to look up. 

“You know, having a roof over your head, it makes it a lot easier,” Fred says. “Having three meals a day makes it a lot easier. And having a support team makes it incredibly easier. Just knowing that you'll have staff members willing to support you in every facet, be it clothing, be it food, be it transportation. It makes everything a little bit more bearable instead of it being so hard.” 

As part of job placement and engagement programs in the village, Fred is attending weekly Bible studies and working with the local Goodwill for job placement and education advancement opportunities. In addition to participating in these programs to fulfill his goal of becoming an entrepreneur, he’s working with his case manager to find permanent housing. 

“Before this program, I kind of lost sight of that, but it's helping me rebuild the situations where I feel more confident in myself,” he says. “And it's helping me become a stronger man.” 

But his favorite part about living in the village? 

“Oh my gosh. My favorite thing? That has to be only one thing? Actually, I think my favorite thing is the community. Close knit. And having neighbors is awesome. We’re close enough to get to know each other and become very good friends. So, creating friendships and new paths has really been a venture for me.” 

With supportive services, his own private space to rest, and the restorative power of community in the village, Fred is optimistic about transitioning out of his shelter and what the future brings. 

“It's so awesome to me, if you come in the program, you take full advantage of it, you're going to get everything out of it that it’s meant to give,” he says. “I am the change I want to be. I’m not going backwards.” 

Rapid Shelter Columbia, a Pallet shelter village serving 50 people experiencing chronic homelessness, opened just 70 days after plans were announced.

Read more about breaking ground on the site and cultivating community in Columbia

 

Addiction has become ingrained and unavoidable in the broader conversation about homelessness. It is common to blame drug and alcohol use on why people lose their housing, even with abundant data suggesting otherwise: a study found that while 91% of the general public believed drug use to be the cause of homelessness in young populations, only 10% of participants with lived experience said this was accurate.   

While substance use is undoubtedly a prevalent issue for many people experiencing homelessness, it is rarely the sole factor leading to a loss of housing—in fact, studies have proven that dependencies on drugs, alcohol, or both are not direct causes of homelessness.   

The order of causation is often confused and oversimplified. In reality, when people lose their housing due to financial hardship or relationship issues, the harsh environment of living unsheltered can act as a catalyst to developing substance use disorder.  

This disconnect between perception and reality is due to the broad stigmatization of substance use, and a troubling lack of understanding around social determinants of health (SDOH), intergenerational poverty, insufficient mental health services, mass incarceration, and systemically racist practices like redlining.  

 To truly help our unhoused neighbors, it’s essential to challenge the mischaracterization and stigma of substance use and examine the root causes of homelessness—which go far beyond addiction and are deeply entrenched in political and socioeconomic systems.  

  

The role of racism and marginalization  

 An overwhelming amount of evidence clearly illustrates how marginalized social groups (such as people of color, indigenous people, and the LGBTQIA+ community) experience homelessness at disproportionately high rates.  

Even though Black people make up 13% of our country’s population, they comprise 40% of homeless Americans. This can be traced back to structurally racist practices like redlining and blockbusting, which rose to prominence with the National Housing Act of 1934. These effectively prohibited potential homebuyers who were Black from securing loans or mortgages and artificially inflated property values after driving people out of historically white neighborhoods, and, in turn, caused intergenerational poverty that still resonates today.    

Disparately high rates of homelessness caused by historical traumas are also felt by indigenous communities including American Indians and Alaska Natives. These populations face unique and lasting challenges that stem from legislation signed into law nearly 200 years ago: a mistrust in the federal government, a severe lack of funding for affordable housing, and skewed data that leads to inequitable resources are just a few examples that contribute to imbalanced rates of unsheltered homelessness in indigenous communities.   

Discrimination also has profound effects on the LGBTQIA+ community. Family rejection due to sexual orientation or gender identity and physical, emotional, and sexual abuse are common experiences that lead to feelings of ostracization and abandonment. A 2021 study shows the effects of this marginalization: 17% of lesbian, gay, and bisexual adults and 30% of transgender adults experienced homelessness at some point in their lives, compared to 6% of the U.S. population. Younger people are even more vulnerable. In 2022, 28% of LGBTQIA+ youth reported experiencing homelessness or housing instability.  

  

The revolving door of incarceration and homelessness  

 Beginning with sweeping, punitive “tough on crime” laws that were enacted in the 1970s in response to an uptick in violent crime, the U.S. is still today one of the world’s largest jailers. Even after statistics of these targeted heinous crimes decreased, the prison system incarcerated more and more people for committing public order crimes like drug use and possession, prostitution, public drinking, gambling, and vagrancy—and gave them longer sentences. Since 1980, the number of people incarcerated for such crimes has risen 1,049%.  

These minor offenses are therefore seen as just cause for incarceration. Once a person exits the prison system, it is remarkably difficult to rebuild a life: jobs and housing will routinely deny applications, which is why formerly incarcerated people are nearly 10 times more likely to experience homelessness than the general public. This vicious cycle is maintained by laws that criminalize homelessness like sleeping in public, panhandling, and public urination.   

 The U.S. prison system causes and perpetuates homelessness by focusing on retributive measures rather than reform and giving people a fair chance at a new life.  

  

Stigmatization and sidelining of mental health services  

 Deinstitutionalization, or the process of closing public psychiatric facilities and moving patients to a model of community health services, is a core part of the discussion around the link between mental illness and homelessness. Although it is inaccurate to attribute this as the sole factor why people living with mental illness end up on the streets, there is no debate that the poor planning in discharging these patients and the dearth of needed supportive services play a significant role.  

 As of 2022, 21.1% of people experiencing homelessness live with mental illness. For people with conditions like schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, PTSD, and neurodevelopmental issues, having access to stable housing and social services is key—but with an acute scarcity of available affordable housing and lack of publicly funded mental health resources and outreach workers, they are often discharged back onto the streets without regard after visits to the ER or being held in police custody.  

 Ultimately, there are various historical and societal reasons why people experience homelessness, and addiction is simply one issue closely tied to the trauma of living unsheltered. To end the homelessness crisis, we must address these root causes, build a reliable ecosystem of support, and offer compassion and understanding to those who need help—because every person deserves access to a stable and permanent place to call home.  

 

In our Village Voices series, we shine a spotlight on residents living in Pallet shelter villages across the country and give them the chance to share their stories.

Linda Daniels was walking down the street with her bags looking for a place to sleep that night. An outreach worker happened to notice her and asked if she needed help. Within two weeks, she was a resident of the Rapid Shelter Columbia village. 

A month in, Linda says the chance to have her own space to rest, to return to after a long day as a custodial worker at the University of South Carolina, and to collect her thoughts has been pivotal in being able to move forward. 

“It means the world to me, because I got my own space, and I got my own place to where I can call mine right now,” she says. “I like being by myself a lot of times. So if I'm going through something, I can come in my room and think about what I'm going through and try to make things better. And I think this is a wonderful thing.”  

Linda says she became homeless after experiencing family and marriage problems. Her tendencies to put others’ needs before her own made her lose sight of her duties and, in turn, found herself with nowhere to call home. 

“People were drowning around me and I'm trying to save everybody, but at the same time I'm drowning with them because I'm neglecting myself and my responsibilities,” she says. “It tore my heart apart. It really did.” 

The opportunity of living in the village and to recharge in her own space has given Linda an optimistic view of rebuilding her life. She plans on maintaining her job, getting a place of her own, and focusing on her own needs.  

“I’m ecstatic about this,” she says. “Makes me want to cry because if you only knew my whole situation, this is wonderful to me. And my case manager and the people that helped me to get back into my own place means the world to me.” 

She also has some advice for anyone going through a similar situation: 

“I want them to know that when it seems like it’s not working out or it’s turning for the worse, keep moving forward. Don’t stop. No matter what, how bad it looks, how hard it looks like it’s getting, never give up. Never. And that’s why I’m here.” 

Rapid Shelter Columbia, a Pallet shelter village serving 50 people experiencing chronic homelessness, opened just 70 days after plans were announced.

Read more about breaking ground on the site and cultivating community in Columbia

Tim seated in his Pallet shelter surrounded by Hot Wheels
Tim sitting on the bed of his Pallet shelter.

The inside of Tim's Pallet shelter in Aurora, CO, reflects what brings him joy. Denver Broncos and Colorado Avalanche jerseys brighten the space. A replica of a Detective Comics cover with Batman on the front is over the window. And dozens of Hot Wheels line the wall. Some are superhero-themed, while others are sleek racers inspired by real sports cars. Each is still pristine, encased in the original packaging. For Tim, they are much more than a toy marketed to kids. 

"That is my salvation," he explained. "That takes me back to a more innocent time in my life where I can just lose myself in Hot Wheel cars. It was easy for me to do it as a kid. It's really easy for me to do it as an adult. They're the coolest things on Earth." 

At one point, he had 3,500 Hot Wheels. 

"They were my wallpaper in my dining room and kitchen of one of my apartments. I don't have that collection anymore, but I'm acquiring a new one," he added.

Tim is originally from Buffalo, NY, but he's lived in Colorado for years. He became homeless after a series of distressing events. First, he lost his job, then the apartment building he lived in was sold. His lease wouldn’t be renewed, leaving him with 30 days to find a new place.

"Covid knocked on our door a couple of months after that, and it's just been one speed bump after another that has culminated in where I am right now," he shared. Tim went on to stay at a mass congregate shelter with hundreds of other people. Next, he moved to the current site known as Safe Outdoor Space (SOS), which has 56 Pallet shelters. "This is way better. You have your own key. You have four walls that you can lose yourself in or whatever, and you can ride out whatever unpredictable in your life, save up some cash and move on to your next step." 

Stabilizing in a safe, secure space positively impacted Tim's life. He no longer must navigate what he described as the chaos of being homeless. He's also enjoying independence.

The Salvation Army is the service provider at the site. Tim has been working with staff to take the steps necessary to move on to permanent housing. For example, he now receives income from the state's Old Age Pension Health Program (OAP), which provides financial assistance to elderly and low-income residents. About a month ago, he received the good news he's been waiting for. The Aurora Housing Authority let him know he was awarded a lifetime housing voucher. 

"This voucher is a godsend," Tim shared. "With the little income that I have that the staff here helped me secure, I should be okay." 

Because he has a voucher, he's only responsible for a portion of the rent. Now Tim is searching for an apartment to move into, which he's confident will happen soon. He's looking forward to getting back to the everyday life he led before becoming unhoused. 

When asked what misconceptions people have about homelessness, Tim points out the absurdity of stereotypes and the assumption that all homeless people are the same.  
 
"Nobody wakes up in the morning and says, 'I want to sleep on a piece of grass this morning. Or when I go to bed tonight, I want to sleep on a park bench or under a table or wrapped around a tree.' This isn't a social experiment," he shared. "The stigma, it's the word ‘homeless’ that scares the general public into a fit that they don't want nobody around them if they're homeless. We have to eat just like everybody else. We have the right to get our life back in order like anybody else that has a hard time." 

UPDATE: At the beginning of October, Tim moved into a one-bedroom apartment, and he couldn't be happier. He credits several factors and a community of people coming together to help him navigate the path back to permanent housing. It includes the Salvation Army caseworkers, the Aurora Housing Authority, which granted him a housing voucher, and the ability to live in a Pallet shelter. Tim is grateful that he's now in a position to help others. He also has plenty of room for his Hot Wheels collection.

Tim shown from the waist up standing in the kitchen of his new apartment.
Tim in his new apartment

 
Building a path to permanent housing at Esperanza Villa 

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