by Mike Tyson
Last Thursday, nine St. Stephen members assisted with Tarrant County Homeless Coalition’s annual Point-in-Time (PIT) Count of the homeless. This survey is essential for our community to apply for over $16 million in grants, mostly federal, that we receive every year to address the needs of the homeless. Hundreds of volunteers turn out for the count. Mike Tyson wrote this report about his team’s research.
Last Thursday night was the annual count of the homeless in Fort Worth. This inventory is always scheduled the last ten days of January in hopes that the cold weather will cause the homeless to go to shelters, thus enabling a more accurate count. The event was well scheduled this year, as the temperatures were in the mid-20s late Thursday evening. As count volunteers, our job was to count the homeless spending the night outside the shelters.
My count team included one man who participated in last year’s count in Arlington and two women who, like me, were new to this experience. After receiving the zone map for the area we were to count, we met with the police officer assigned to accompany us. Upon inspection of the map, the officer alerted us that our near eastside area included a known homeless campsite and that we would be doing a lot of “tent tapping.” We arranged to meet the officer at 9:30pm in our zone.
In my car, we first followed the officer’s cruiser through a warehouse area, around an abandoned nursing home and a residential area of small single family homes. By illumination of the cruiser spotlight, we were pretty well satisfied there was no one spending the night outdoors. As we drove down a major thoroughfare, the officer suddenly turned off the pavement up a dirt road, the existence of which was pretty much obscured by the darkness. Dense brush and debris were on both sides of the rough dirt path. At the top of the hill, the police car came to a stop and the officer got out of the vehicle. After killing my headlights, it was pitch black and the only light was from each of our flashlights.
As we followed the officer leading the way with his flashlight, I secretly hoped the tent that lay ahead had no occupants—not so much for their sake, but for mine—as, in just a few minutes, I was already chilled by the 27 degrees and wind. “Is there anybody in there?,” the officer asked as he approached the tent. “Yes,” a woman’s voice responded, followed by acknowledgement by a male voice from the same tent. The officer continued, “I have some people who are here to help you. They need to ask you some questions. Is that okay?” “Sure,” was the faceless reply from within the tent.
We then proceeded to ask our approximate twenty survey questions. I was immediately struck by how polite the respondents were, particularly since I felt it was a bit intrusive to be barging into someone’s habitat at 10pm. Not rushing us, they often replied, “yes sir,” “no sir,” “yes ma’am,” “no ma’am.” After we finished our questions, the male occupant apologized for the debris around their campsite, but promised he was going “to get some equipment to clean it up soon.” (Actually, the area around their tent was fairly tidy, with walkways designated by rock borders.) After we thanked them for their time, they indeed thanked us, and then gave directions to where we might find other tent dwellers.
The police officer again led the way, helping us find the next group of tents—following dirt paths, behind overgrown brush, down the ravine and across the creek that ran through the campsite. The officer would call out, “Is anybody in there?,” followed by a tap on the tent to try to elicit a response. In most cases, the tents were inhabited by one or two persons, most of whom politely spoke with us, even if they declined to answer the survey questions. The only tent we did not closely approach was one that was being protected by two loose dogs.
Of particular note was a young man in his early 30s who got out of his tent to talk to us. He said he had moved to Fort Worth months earlier with his girlfriend who had returned home to live with and care for her mother. I’m not sure if he broke up with his girlfriend or was kicked out of the house by the mother, but he ended up homeless and unable to find a job. He said his only source of income was selling blood plasma. Again, he was extremely polite, shaking my hand as I thanked him for his time.
Another tent housed a 24-year old boy who said he had left his home when he was 16. He had been homeless most of the time since then, periodically living with friends or relatives. He had not been able to find work and reported no means of income.
Had I passed either of these young men on the street or met them under other circumstances, I don’t think I would have guessed they were homeless. Either of them could have been my nephew or cousin, or the child of a friend.
I interviewed one veteran through the shelter of his tent. He confirmed he was on medication for depression, and remarked that over half the folks living at the campsite suffered from depression or other psychological disorders. He said that many of them had at some time gotten into housing, only to find themselves homeless again in a matter of months. His opinion was that the chronically homeless lose their ability to cope with issues living in their own home, and need to be transitioned into housing via a single room occupancy facility. This gentleman seemed intelligent with some excellent insight to share. Unfortunately, the time and the temperature forced me to move on with the rest of the team.
After hiking through the campsite (and also quickly inspecting the ruins of an old abandoned school close by), we concluded our count shortly after midnight. In our zone—based on interview, and/or visual or audible observation—there were 19 individuals spending the night outdoors. I am certain there were at least a few we missed.
In most cases, when we thanked those we interviewed for their time, they also thanked us and said, “stay warm.” Believe me, it’s pretty hard to think of an appropriate response when you know you’re going to a warm home and comfortable bed, while leaving someone to sleep on the ground in temperatures dipping to 18 degrees….
This evening was a significant experience to help me empathize with the issue of homelessness. My primary takeaway was that there is not a lot of distance that separates us from the homeless—both literally and figuratively. Despite thinking we would have the ability to avoid or overcome this predicament, it indeed could happen to any of us. I hope that increased knowledge of the problem can contribute toward a solution.