Reuters-Shannon Stapelton
Vassar College Quarterly • Winter 2020 • By Michael Blanding
“STABLE HOUSING IS THE CORNERSTONE OF A STABLE LIFE. WHATEVER ELSE THAT IS GOING ON WITH A FAMILY, YOU HAVE TO GET THEM SUSTAINABLY HOUSED FIRST." KYRIELL NOON ’94 Myleen Hollero
The coronavirus pandemic has created a whirlwind of new challenges for San Francisco’s already vulnerable homeless population. Kyriell Noon ‘94 and Jason Albertson ‘85 are determined to help.
For families teetering on the edge of poverty, the coronavirus pandemic has packed a deadly double-punch. Low-income workers are more likely to be working in front-line service where they face exposure to the virus. At the same time, those very front-line jobs are most at risk of disappearing. “It’s hard for somebody to find a source of revenue to pay rent when bars and coffee shops and stores are going out of business,” says Kyriell Noon ’94, Chief Executive Officer of the San Francisco-based nonprofit Hamilton Families.
The organization works specifically with homeless families, many led by single moms working service jobs, who have been particularly hard-hit by the pandemic. Unlike single men, they are generally not out living on the street—but are just as insecure as they bounce from one unstable living situation to another. “The plight of homeless families is nearly invisible,” Noon says. “They are doubled up in terrible housing, or living in a van, barely keeping it together.”
That invisibility has made it difficult to reach out and help families in precarious circumstances—and yet finding them stable housing is a crucial step in preventing a downward spiral to mental health, substance abuse, or domestic violence issues that can leave lifelong scars of trauma on children. “Stable housing is the cornerstone to a stable life,” Noon says. “Whatever else that is going on with a family, you have to get them sustainably housed first.”
The San Francisco Bay Area has always had a disproportionate number of homeless people compared to other cities in the U.S. Official counts place the number at more than 35,000—the third highest in the country after the much larger cities of New York and Los Angeles. Advocates, however, estimate that the actual number of people experiencing housing insecurity is more than double that. Various explanations lay behind those numbers, including the lack of affordable housing and widening inequality due to the tech boom.
The pandemic, however, has strained an already overburdened system to the breaking point, sucking tax dollars out of social services while at the same time putting new pressures on homeless individuals, who by definition are often unable to “shelter in place” to protect themselves from contracting disease. Jason Albertson ’85, who works as a behavioral health specialist for the San Mateo County Department of Public Health’s Outbreak Management Branch, has seen firsthand the toll the pandemic has taken. “More than the impact of mental health problems or substance abuse problems, people are worn,” he says. “Each day I see them get a little dirtier, more bearded, more tanned. Sometimes I think the folks on the street are waiting—waiting for COVID.”
Only about 14 percent of the Bay Area’s homeless population are families, but they face unique challenges, says Noon, as they are forced to balance their children’s education and parents’ need for income. “There’s a devil’s choice that people have to make between childcare and work,” he says. Staying home to help young children with distance learning means sacrificing a stable income, while going to work means potentially leaving them in an unstable childcare situation, or even bringing the virus home to infect them. As with other issues involving the pandemic, the impact has fallen most heavily on families of color, which represent more than 85 percent of the organization’s clients. “That’s the result of systemic policies that have gone on for decades,” he says.
Those strains are exacerbated by pressures on Hamilton Families’ own services. The organization has been forced to reduce the capacity of its family homeless shelter by 50 percent to maintain safe social distancing and cleaning protocols. Hamilton Families also works with landlords to “rapidly rehouse” families, providing a subsidy to help them pay rent, then working with them to find other needed services such as workforce development and mental health counseling. While the virus has made that work more difficult, Noon and his colleagues have been able to continue working with families and landlords through Zoom. They’ve also partnered with Bay Area tech firms to help provide families with hundreds of laptops for remote learning.
At the same time, the city is working with hotels to provide unused rooms for temporary housing. Despite that effort, less than 2,500 of the 8,000 projected hotel rooms ultimately became available. “Many people ask me how to get into a shelterinplace hotel,” Albertson says, “but access is based on COVID vulnerability, so if you don’t have vulnerability, there’s no room for you to stay in.” As the city winds down the program, it has vowed to step up efforts to find stable housing. Without any firm solutions, however, Noon worries about the survival of homeless families during the winter months ahead.
The pandemic has only increased the determination of these alumni to help the homeless weather the storm, however. “When you work with the homeless population, the human suffering is so proximate, you can’t deny your work is needed,” Noon says. “It’s bracing, humbling, and energizing at the same time.”
Albertson keeps up his spirits by spending a few minutes each day thinking about what he is grateful for. “In a time of unforeseen calamity and unexpected impacts,” he says, “hope might be what we have to give to each other and our community.”