The Homeless Voice is owned by the COSAC Foundation, a multi-faceted non-profit agency that feeds, shelters, and arranges access to social and medical services to every homeless person that enters its shelters. We aim to enable them to return to a self-reliant lifestyle, but for the small percentage of people incapable, we provide a caring and supportive environment for long-term residency.
Originally made by a team tasked to raise money from the streets for the shelter, the Homeless Voice was born from the knowledge that freedom of press was a way to raise awareness. We started as a flyer, then a 4-page newsprint, then finally becoming the voice of the homeless with the Homeless Voice newspaper and website in 1999.
In this newspaper we hope to present the problems that the homeless population faces day-to-day, the problems these people personally face, and the ways that laws can help and hinder them.
Visit us at to read past issues, see online-only content, and a full map of where you can find this paper.
Many of our vendors are clients of our shelters, brought to different major cities to vend this paper in return for a donation. Based out of Lake City — where our Veterans Inn shelter and Motel 8 is located — or Davie, they are always brought out in groups of four to help each other stay motivated and keep each other company. They’re given plenty of food and water for the day and don bright shirts to distinguish them as our vendors.
Depending on their specific job in vending this newspaper, all vendors take in about 75% of donations that day, with the remaining 25% put back into the paper.
We distribute in all major cities throughout Florida, including Tallahassee, Lake City, Jacksonville, Tampa, Orlando, Daytona, Ft. Lauderdale, Miami, and now Gainesville.
Contributers
Mary Stewart
Halfway-Houses in Homelessness
Zero-tolerance can mean forfeited hard-earned rent.
By Mary Stewart
Recovery and Homelessness
Living on the streets makes every step of recovery more dangerous and isolating.
By Mary Stewart
Safety in Numbers, But Easier Pickings
Communal campgrounds are not always helpful, and Florida will be forcing them.
By Mary Stewart
By Mary Stewart
By Mary Stewart
Halfway Houses in Homelessness
Halfway houses require rent, already difficult to come by living on the streets, and with zero-tolerance policies in recovery, whole months of rent can be lost without a refund.
By Mary Stewart
Homeless people across the state are put in an even tighter spot of looking for housing options now, with Florida’s state-wide camping ban having come into effect at the start of October. One such option is a halfway house.
Halfway houses aren't homeless shelters. Instead, they are designed to be a source of safe and supportive housing for those who are in recovery from substance abuse issues. While many halfway houses across South Florida only accept private health insurance, a barrier for most people who are homeless, there are others that accept cash payments.
Prior to the development of The Senator Philip D. Lewis Homeless Resource Center, homeless people in Palm Beach County were referred to halfway houses through the Homeless Outreach Team. The program paid for 90 days up front for a bed in one of these halfway houses at which point the client had to start paying their own rent. Not many homeless people made it through those 90 days, though, often being kicked out within a couple weeks due to drug-use and their bed being given to a new client.
Many homeless people do struggle with alcoholism and addiction issues, but we don't always have access to
substance abuse treatment unless we obtain a funding source through the Department of Corrections or the Department of Children and Families. Therefore, we usually go from detox, shelter, jail, or the streets and straight into a halfway house without a firm recovery foundation.
This is often a set up for failure.
Some halfway houses are flophouses that don't care whether or not residents continue to drink or use as long as we pay our rent. However, most halfway houses run random drug and alcohol screens and will kick people right back out on the streets for a dirty urine sample — even if our rent has been paid.
I've been to several halfway houses and been kicked out every single time except for a few instances where I left on my own volition. One time, I loudly argued with my therapist on the phone outside the halfway house, tears in my eyes, and the house mother insisted that I needed to talk to a professional in person right away. Instead, I left and got drunk. If crying and raising my voice was that much of a concern, I knew I'd surely be kicked out for a panic attack or meltdown.
One of the many problems with halfway houses is that even if they accept dual diagnosis — mental health and substance abuse — they really aren't equipped to understand and deal with mental illness. I'm not delusional, but I do tend to become anxious and overlyemotional which raises concerns for staff. I can't count the number of times I’ve been kicked out of a halfway house and Baker-acted for insufficient reasons.
I can't count the number of times I’ve been kicked out of a halfway house and baker-acted for insufficient reasons.
Overall, I will say that most halfway houses are nicer than homeless shelters. The apartments are fully furnished and utilities are included, but you have to buy your own food and rarely get your own bedroom. Instead, you have to share a room with at least one other person, sometimes two or three.
The units are also shared, with most halfway houses located in apartments or private homes and have two to four bedrooms. As a result, you may luck out and share the unit with only two or three people, but sometimes there could be six or more people living in that house.
Granted, that's still a lot less people than there would be in a homeless shelter, but still a lot of different personalities to deal with. Also, the other residents are drug addicts and there's a risk of theft or other issues in the house.
Once I was in a halfway house and my roommate was messed up really bad on fentanyl. The house mother let her stay because she just got out of treatment and lied and said she was on pills. That night, I was afraid to go to sleep lest she may steal my laptop or accidentally burn the place down, but that type of situation just goes along with the territory of living with those in early recovery.
Really, the biggest issue with placing homeless people in halfway houses is the cost.
Many halfway houses charge a non-refundable deposit, or administrative fee, that's usually equal to a week's rent, but there are some places that don't charge deposits or that will work with you. With rent usually being charged on a weekly basis, expenses are around $175 to $250 per week for most halfway houses. That's still a lot cheaper than move-in costs for an apartment or weekly rent at a motel, but for what you're paying at a halfway house, you could probably rent a room in a private home. At least you'd have your own bedroom and less rules and drama. Halfway houses don't do background and credit checks though, making it much easier to get into.
Sadly, most people don't make it through the program...
Aside from the Lewis Center, homeless people in Palm Beach County can sometimes get Changing Lives of Boca to pay for their first two months in a halfway house. I have heard success stories from those who went through the program, got sober, and eventually received help moving into their apartment. Sadly, most people don't make it through the program — they either leave the halfway house or get kicked out.
At first, it's easy to say that people need to just lay off the booze, go to work, pay their rent, and follow the rules, then they won't be kicked out on the streets. And for the most part, that's good advice and often the recipe for success. On the other hand, it should be noted that halfway houses aren't just places of recovery, they are places of business.
If you lose your job or can't afford the rent, it doesn't matter if you've been sober for a year and are working a strong program, out on the streets you go. Also, the rules often come with write-ups. With enough writeups, you get kicked out and forfeit your rent. Some of the write-ups are for ridiculous things, too. I once was written up for leaving books on the bed while attending college.
If you miss curfew or drink or break the rules or lose your job or a number of other things, then you get kicked out on the streets and forfeit your rent. That means that you not only lose your housing, but you lose the money you spent on rent, too. The halfway house keeps it, and then rents the bed to someone else, doubling up on the profits.
I'm not against all halfway houses, many of them are decent places. I've met many people over the years who stayed sober with the help of a halfway house and support group, and as a result, they chose their lives. With a good paying job as a starting point, a halfway house can be a good consideration. After all, it's not like homeless people in South Florida have very many options. Just remember the recipe for success: stay sober, go to work, pay your rent, and follow the rules. And whatever you do, don't leave books on the bed!
Recovery and Homelessness
Living on the streets makes every step of recovery more dangerous, more isolating, and more costly.
By Mary Stewart
Photo illustration by Andrew Fraieli
It had been yet another long night. I was so hungry and dehydrated, I didn't even want to drink another beer. I longed for a big glass of ice water, or better yet, a cold soda to get my blood sugar up. I was tired, but unsure of where I would sleep that night. No one really wanted me to stick around because I was broke. Most of all, I just desperately needed a friend. I decided to hang out at the gas station for a little while longer. Maybe I could come up with a hot dog and a Pepsi. But I looked so wasted that no one wanted to give me money. I felt so alone. Finally, I burst out in tears, and the clerk ran me off the property.
I can't put it into words: the relief that I felt when the sun began to rise and the Palm Tran bus started to run again. I somehow made it to the bus stop and got on the next route that was heading south on Military Trail. I couldn't wait to get back to my camp in West Boca Raton and go to sleep.
I curled up in my tent after eating some snacks that I had stashed at my camp. Before dozing off, I said a prayer begging God to help me overcome my alcoholism. The next day, I went to a twelve step meeting and picked up yet another white chip, determined to give sobriety another shot.
I can retell this story very clearly because I've been there time and time again. I chose to camp in Boca Raton, not only for safety and the generosity of residents, but to avoid old people, places, and things associated with my addiction. However, I'd often get lonely out there by myself, and the monkey would climb on my back again. Then, I'd be headed right back to Lake Worth for the night to party with my old crew.
Many homeless people can relate to my story in some way. Even though not all homeless people battle addiction, many of us do. Some may not be ready to seek help, others have repeatedly sought the answer to their problem but have not yet found it.
One of my addicted friends recently told me that as long as he avoids people who use his drug of choice, he'll be able to stay clean and sober. But I know from my experience that the problem lies within us, not our surroundings. My camp was far away from my old crew, and yet I still sought them out if I wanted to party badly enough.
That said, we do need to change our playgrounds and playmates in recovery and find new people to hang around who don't drink or use drugs. The latter was one of my biggest recovery challenges while homeless. Even though I could relate to the stories of addiction at twelve step meetings, I still felt like a square peg in a round hole due to my homelessness.
Some of those in recovery were judgmental of my situation. Others were accepting and supportive. I used to go out for half price appetizers once a week with one group of people. I thoroughly enjoyed having the company of people who were on the right track. But I felt like I was different because I slept outside. Maybe it's just me. I could've very well been standing in my own way in recovery because of my self consciousness. I wanted what the other people at those meetings had but doubted my ability to ever achieve it. On one hand, their stories showed me that recovery was possible. But on the other hand, I had no idea how to ever overcome homelessness.
Florida's new camping ban is going to force homeless people to either seek shelter or move to a Department of Children Families funded campground. And no drugs or alcohol use will be permitted in these places. We now
Even though I could relate to the stories of addiction at twelve step meetings, I still felt like a square peg in a round hole due to my homelessness.
have no choice but to get sober and get off the streets.
The first step is admitting that we have no control over our addiction — that we're powerless in that respect — and that our lives are unmanageable. Until we admit that the problem exists, we can't do anything to address it. Next we have to believe that there's a higher power out there who can help us and make the decision to turn our lives over to a God of our understanding.
It's been said that these first three steps can be summed up into the words honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness (or the acronym H.O.W.).The following steps are also necessary for recovery, and they should all be worked through together with a sponsor who's been sober for at least a year.
With regards to the housing issue, homeless people aren't going to have the option of continuing to sleep outdoors, and even if others in the shelter or campground are still using, the substance abuse won't be in your face. As previously stated, that alone won't solve your problem, but it will make it easier for you to stay sober.
Alternatives to shelters or campgrounds include treatment and halfway houses. Most treatment centers in Florida require private health insurance, but there are a few that are state-funded or non-profit organizations. Halfway houses are relatively expensive in Florida, and there's some good ones and some bad ones. I'd ask for recommendations at local twelve step meetings.
I've seen twelve step recovery meetings work for a countless number of people, but you have to be ready and willing to make a change in your life. It's recommended to attend a meeting every day for ninety days, get people's phone numbers, and find a sponsor who can take you through the steps.
I can also tell you a few things that don't work. First, switching to a different substance. Even though alcohol and pot are less harmful than heroin for instance, you still aren't addressing your problem, and there's a good chance that you'll eventually return to your drug of choice.
Relationships also won't solve your problem. While it is true that you may have to separate from a partner that you used to drink or use with (at least temporarily), the separation in and of itself won't cure your addiction. Neither will a new relationship. At the most, you may stop or slow down for a while or get some other aspects of your life together, but a relationship was never the real problem, and it will never be a solution, either.
Some homeless people may decide to leave Florida due to the new camping ban. I did, and in some ways, that was a big mistake. I've moved around a lot, and I can tell you from experience that there's no such thing as a geographical cure for addiction. However, if Florida was your old stomping ground, you may have better luck at recovery elsewhere — if you get to a meeting. In the end, though, there's no camping ban or new policy in the world that will make homeless people decide to get clean and sober. You have to want recovery in order for it to work. Just as I recalled one of my worst nights, it's helpful to remember the nightmare of addiction to help you avoid that first drink or drug.
If you're ready to take an honest look at your addiction and your life in general and pick up that white welcome chip or key tag at a meeting, there are people out there who will help you in your recovery journey. Just don't leave before the miracle happens or stand in your own way like I did.
Communal Campgrounds: Safety in Numbers, but Easier Pickings
Florida's new state law forces communal campgrounds, which have problems normally, but also allow carve-outs to not have bathrooms, water, security or social services.
By Mary Stewart
Istill cherish the sweet memories of camping outdoors. I loved waking up in the morning to a glimmer of sunshine peeking through the trees. As I'd drink my cup of instant coffee, I'd observe the birds perching on nearby twigs and the squirrels gathering their early morning nuts.
It was the visual definition of peaceful and serene. And that's how some well-kept and well-hidden private homeless camps are. We have a sense of privacy and safety in spite of not having a door to lock behind us. We have somewhere to relax and unwind. But that's not the case with
Cont. next page.
FIRST-PERSON
communal public campgrounds.
I lived at the John Prince Park homeless camp for about a month once. I had just got back in town from Lakeland, Florida after yet another falling out with my husband. I had no money and nowhere to go. I was also a student at Palm Beach State College, and there was only a month left in the semester.
So I moved into John Prince Park where all the other local homeless people were. Back then, we didn't have tents set up. Instead, people crowded under the cabanas whenever it would rain. There wasn't enough room for all of us to sleep in the cabanas. I was one of the unlucky ones who laid out a blanket in the grass. When I’d wake up every morning, I'd stash my bedding in a bush. Thankfully, no one ever found my bedding, but my suitcase with all of my belongings was stolen while I was living in a public campground. There's no telling who the culprit was. At the time, there must have been almost 100 people sleeping in the park.
Safety was definitely a concern for me in a communal camp. One morning, I woke up to a man wanting to pay me for sex.
At least there were bathrooms. That was a major benefit of staying in a public campground. However, there were no showers, so we had to wash up in the sinks throughout the week. On Sundays, a church bus would pick us up and take us to an outreach ministry for showers, lunch, clothing, and worship. I was slowly able to replace my stolen belongings.
Churches were our primary source of food. They'd bring sandwiches and hot meals out to us every day. Some of us still panhandled, but not very often. For the most part, our needs were met right there at the park. I only left to walk across the street to class every day, and I'd sometimes panhandle after class if I missed the church feeding.
Safety was definitely a concern for me in a communal camp. One morning, I woke up to a man wanting to pay me for sex. There were a lot of guys staying in the park, and many kept flirting with me. I was friendly and social but wasn't interested in anything more than that. I initially figured that safety in numbers was a good concept and slept near a woman I knew. It was just too hectic on that side of the park. I'm talking about drugs, drinking, and fights. Two women tried to attack me. So I moved over near the ballpark and avoided the crowds. We had security guards that drove around the park in golf carts, but they never did much to protect us. They
There wasn't enough room for all of us to sleep in the cabanas. I was one of the unlucky ones who laid out a blanket in the grass.
basically just rode around and made sure we weren't getting into trouble. Everyone would behave when they'd show up, but as soon as they were gone, the party began again.
Then one day, I received the notification that I had successfully completed fall semester, and that somehow, I actually managed to make the Dean's list while sleeping in John Prince Park. I said goodbye to everyone and panhandled enough change to get on the bus back to Boca Raton and private camping.
Long after I moved out of John Prince Park, they started letting homeless people actually pitch tents. There were tents everywhere. It was like a small village. But belongings were still being stolen from tents, and one guy was going around robbing the homeless women who lived there. Sometimes, I'd go visit my friends, but I refused to ever move back.
However, the truth is that private camping isn't rent-free luxury living, either. Tents collapse and leak. Blankets get moldy. It's almost impossible to keep the dirt out of your tent. The mosquitoes are a living nightmare. And don't let me get started on the raccoons and how they'll steal your food and anything else they can swipe from your camp.
I felt safer camping with my abusive husband than I did camping alone, but after we separated, I found a
spot to pitch a tent in West Boca. I was familiar with the area from having camped there with my husband and our friends. There's also a low crime rate and not much drug activity.
But I was still nervous walking into the woods at night alone. Nights were overall scary. Period. Maybe that's why waking up in the morning was so beautiful. Even so, I definitely preferred it over communal camping. I learned the hard way that the concept of safety in numbers isn't always accurate.
This doesn't only apply to large tent cities, either. My friends often camped in groups, and there would be garbage everywhere, arguments, large bonfires, stolen cell phones, and numerous complaints to law enforcement. I'd hang out with them from time to time, but I was always relieved to get back on the bus to my
Since the new camping ban was passed, Florida counties will have the option of setting up large communal state-funded campgrounds that are run by the Department of Children and Families. The proposed campgrounds would include bathrooms, meals, and referrals to resources.
It doesn't necessarily sound like a bad thing. Maybe there would be more regulations in those campgrounds than there were at John Prince Park. One thing that will definitely be different is that substance abuse will be prohibited. But that doesn't mean that residents will all be clean and sober. They just won't be able to party at
the camp.
I can see the benefits of regulated camping and the offering of resources. But communal campgrounds aren't the safest places to lay your head. There has to be better alternatives, but until more funding and resources become available, at least public camps will provide us with meals, bathrooms, and a temporary place to sleep and store our belongings — at least until they get stolen.
I learned the hard way that the concept of safety in numbers isn't always accurate.
Assisted Living For Some
Not all disabilities are physical, and while some people need assisted living, others just need affordable services and understanding from the world of more emotional disorders.
By Mary Stewart
Iwas a troubled eighteen-year-old girl who had just aged out of the system. I despised getting on that big white van every morning to go to a day treatment program for the mentally ill.
One of my peers insisted that Jesus owned K-mart. Another one had conversations with imaginary drug dealers while we were in a group. I knew I wasn't as sick as they were. I didn't need to be in the group. And I definitely didn't need to be in an assisted living facility. Many years later, I faced chronic homelessness and was unable to find affordable housing. Since I still received Supplemental Security Income, I was eligible to return to assisted living. I didn't have to be on the streets. But I repeatedly refused to move back to an assisted living facility.
I've known countless other homeless people who receive Supplemental Security Income or Social
Security disability Insurance benefits and who also do not want to move to assisted living. They prefer having a sense of independence – and some money left in their pockets every month.
However, in light of the looming camping bans and the cost of living increases, some homeless people with disabilities may be left with no other housing options besides assisted living facilities. But is that really the best solution to their homelessness?
For some of them, it may be. Often disabled people value independence so much that we undermine our limitations. It's also very common for mentally ill people to be in denial of their illness and refuse treatment and medication compliance.
Assisted living facilities can give disabled people housing, three prepared meals per day, 24-hour supervision, medication management, and sometimes
transportation to medical appointments. Often case managers are also assigned to help them manage their benefits, schedule their appointments, and refer them to needed services. These are a few of the benefits of placement in assisted living facilities. But this type of housing and level of services isn't appropriate for everyone.
I still remember my days of residing in assisted living homes. At one facility, I was the only person living there who was under the age of 70. As a teenager, it goes without saying that I felt out of place. However, I was raised by my grandmother, so my heart went out to the other residents, and I went ballistic when one of them was neglected.
The next assisted living facility was more like an adult group home. Most of the residents were younger but still not nearly as young as I was. They were also
Photo Illustration by Andrew Fraieli
seriously mentally ill. After the day program every day, they'd spend the rest of the afternoon and evening sitting outside chain smoking cigarettes. There was nothing else to do there.
I did have a TV, but someone stole it from my bedroom while I was at the day program. Mind you, I didn't have my own bedroom. Instead, I slept in a large bedroom with three twin-sized beds. There were also beds in the living room and kitchen area. We all ate together in the dining hall.
My grandmother noticed how the people at the group home sat around and did nothing all day, so she decided to host a Bingo game. I'll never forget that day. She even brought prizes. We all had a great time, and the other residents were very grateful.
I was especially grateful for my grandmother. If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't have had a dollar to my name while living in these places. The assisted living homes took my entire SSI check except for $43 per month: that's all I was left to live on. Then they applied for an additional state supplement to cover the full cost of my so-called care.
Fortunately, my case manager approved my request to move into an apartment with my grandmother, and I was able to eventually say goodbye to day-treatment programs and assisted living facilities. I learned how to balance a bank account, manage my own benefits, and even got my first job at Taco Bell.
I've never looked back.
I'm not saying that assisted living homes are bad places or not a good option in some cases. I've known quite a few homeless people who clearly needed that level of care, but there was no convincing them of that. Eventually, I gave up and accepted that they'd probably never get the help they needed without involuntary commitment.
On the other hand, many disabled people are capable of independent living with little to no assistance with basic daily living activities. Some of us can even work
Being disabled doesn't necessarily mean that you're confined to a wheelchair.
but have limitations on the types of work we can do and the amount of hours we can handle. Being disabled doesn't necessarily mean that you're confined to a wheelchair.
For us, what we truly need is affordable independent living. But that's very hard to find in Florida and many other states. Sure, there is Section 8 housing, but you can only apply during open window periods and applicants are selected through a lottery. And you know what the odds of winning the lottery are.
Also, it's hard to find landlords who are willing to accept Section 8 vouchers. Even if you get approved, there's still the daunting task of finding a suitable apartment and going through the inspection process.
In Sarasota, the Homeless Outreach Team offers U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development housing to homeless people with disabilities, but I was told back in April that there were 1,000 people on that waiting list.
I was also turned down for assistance because I'm a Palm Beach County resident. As far as I know, my county isn't handing out HUD vouchers to homeless people. However, they do have a permanent supportive housing program. There's also housing programs through Goodwill Industries that were originally designed to help homeless people with disabilities, but that waiting list is also long.
Without more options and availability for affordable independent living, many homeless people with disabilities will sadly be faced with no other choice besides going to assisted living. Some may end up in halfway houses instead – if they're lucky and can work part-time.
In some cases, this will mean that they'll finally get the level of help that they desperately need. But there will also be homeless people in assisted living homes who really don't need to be there. They just don't have anywhere else to go. Hopefully, someone will be kind enough to bring in a Bingo game.
Why PeopleHomeless Need Money
Cash can go much farther than services in city's where they're often severely limited in scope.
By Mary Stewart
Recently, my life fell apart once again. In desperation, I reached out to housed friends of mine for help. I had a shelter bed lined up, but had no transportation to get there. Someone offered to give me a ride, but he wanted gas money, and I was broke.
gift cards are great, but homeless people also need a little money in their pockets to get the items they need. The resources out there can only do so much.
Sometimes there's waiting lists or lack of funding. Other times a person simply doesn't qualify for that particular resource or isn't part of the “target population.” And when a place does help us, they're rarely able to meet every single need of ours. We usually have to look elsewhere.
Instead of sending me a little bit of money, my wellmeaning friends sent me lists of resources they found in my area through a Google search. I already knew about the few transportation resources near me, but one place charges a fee, and the other only provides rides to the doctor. I never made it to the shelter and lost my bed.
This isn't the first time I've gone through this. Once, a friend sent me an e-gift card for Chevron when there's no Chevron stations in my area. It seems like some people are willing to help the homeless in any way they can — except when it comes to giving us money. Admittedly, Florida was a lot easier when it came to transportation, but I still needed cash to get around.
Of course, it's natural to assume that the local resources can provide help with absolute necessities, such as food, clothes, and shelter, and that for anything else, we need to get a job. In most cases, I'd agree. But often, we need some financial assistance in order to get
While free clothing is sometimes provided through local outreach ministries, clothing donations are usually limited. I speak from experience when I say that I've had a hard time finding items in my size. I usually spend part of my panhandling money shopping at thrift stores rather than depending on free clothing donations.
Some outreach places would occasionally give out daily bus passes when they had them, but they stopped handing out monthly bus passes in Palm Beach County a long time ago.
As far as interview clothes, though, Dress for Success of the Palm Beaches has been a big help to me — except when it comes to work shoes. I typically have to buy a pair of slip proof shoes from Walmart when jobhunting. Once in a while, I'll luck out with a decent pair of interview shoes, but when I don't, it's back to the
thrift store.
Now, low income residents can purchase a 31-day bus pass for $15. That's still much cheaper than driving, but few homeless people have $15 to spare. We're usually trying to scrape up change just to survive. We're often told that we can get a free meal at Boca Helping Hands, but we still need cash in order to get there.
Transportation isn't our only expense either. The last time I moved to Kentucky for a fresh start, I landed a bed at the Salvation Army. My basic needs for food and shelter were met free of charge.
However, when I was hired at a burger joint, I was told that I needed to get a Safe Serve certificate that cost $15, and I needed slip proof shoes. I wasn't sure of the panhandling laws in that area, so I started a Go Fund Me to get the supplies I needed for work.
Community resources, soup kitchens, shelters, and
Laundry is another expense that homeless people often need cash for. Some outreach ministries will wash one change of clothes at a time, while others have provided weekly laundry services in the past. Last I heard, that stopped due to complaints about homeless people congregating, but there's been talk about offering laundry assistance again in the future. Fortunately, laundry is relatively affordable. It's something good that can come out of the spare change in people's car ashtrays. And a single ride on the Palm Tran bus only costs a mere two bucks not counting transfers. However, it's much more cost-effective to get the 31-day pass, but that's if we can find someone who is willing to give us enough money to get one. We also need money for miscellaneous expenses, such as personal hygiene items, flashlights, batteries, backpacks, or sleeping bags. Although there are outreach ministries that regularly give out sample toiletries, I've hardly ever seen the other items on this list given to the homeless except for during the holidays. However, many people are reluctant to hand money to homeless people because they think we'll just spend it on drugs and alcohol, but that's not always the case. We actually do need money in order to survive. But you are indeed taking a chance when you give us money. Sometimes it'll go to the right thing, sometimes it won't. And money isn't necessarily the solution to homelessness. I've had thousands of dollars in the bank a few times but still couldn't rent a place to live due to background and credit issues. We do still need the community resources and policy changes, too.
Even though we do need money, it can only get us so far. That's why you may hand out a twenty dollar bill and still see that person right back out on the median. Maybe they bought a bus pass or a good meal or a pair of shoes. Or maybe they really did get drunk.
But you did your part through your generosity. And at least you can sleep well tonight knowing that you may have made a small difference in that person's life.
