A window into life on the streets

Over two days, Jan. 28-29, 135 volunteers fanned out around the community to embark on a nearly impossible task: Counting the unhoused. Canvassers — from homelessness service providers and elected officials to residents — were paired up to conduct surveys with people living in parks and along commercial corridors around Buncombe County.

This year, Xpress joined the annual task, called the Point-in-Time (PIT) count, a nationwide effort required by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) to document each community’s unhoused population at a specific point in time. The results help inform local, state and federal funding for services and how those services should be expanded or adapted.

For both volunteers and participants, the count, led by the Asheville-Buncombe Continuum of Care, represented an opportunity for much more than, well, counting. They were given an opportunity to see, maybe for the first time, what life is like for those many of us just walk past.

Jamie Benshoff was living on the streets, struggling with untreated mental illness when an interaction with a provider from Homeward Bound led to her getting Social Security and eventually, housing. Now housed for four years, she volunteers for the PIT count every year because she knows firsthand the value of the interactions that occur during the event.

“For those of us struggling with mental illness or active addiction or even just the loss of vision, living and survival day-to-day, to have somebody there that you can talk to and engage with, who identifies with you, is so helpful,” Benshoff told a group of volunteers Jan. 28 before they left to conduct the count. “What you’re doing today is so important.”

This reporter took that message to heart. With my canvassing partner Val Ball, who works for Homeward Bound but doesn’t often do street outreach, we headed out on our assigned route the morning of Jan. 29, clipboards in hand and backpacks full of supplies. We were told to walk the downtown area between the Haywood Street Congregation and Biltmore Avenue, north of Patton Avenue. I was familiar with the area, as Xpress’ office sits square in the middle of that region on Wall Street, but this day had a different vibe.

Instead of keeping my head down, avoiding eye contact with strangers for fear of being asked for money, my head was up, my posture was welcoming, and my demeanor was friendly. The results were evident. Most of the couple dozen people we interacted with were respectful, even affable. No one asked for money.

The survey

The first gentleman we approached had no issue whatsoever participating in the four-page survey and was forthcoming with answers to all the somewhat personal questions we — complete strangers — asked.

The survey includes everything from basic demographic questions, which themselves can be awkward to ask someone standing right in front of you, to health-related questions about any chronic conditions, diseases or disabilities the person might have.

Ball, my partner, developed a routine of apologizing ahead of time for asking such probing questions when she got to the health-related portion of the survey. That seemed to help some people feel more comfortable, although most didn’t seem to mind at all.

The man, as most people did throughout the day, happily accepted our offer of a fresh pair of socks at the conclusion of our survey. Who couldn’t always use an extra pair of socks?

We talked to more than 20 people throughout the day. Some were older and relying solely on meager Social Security payments and no longer able to work, living on the streets because they simply couldn’t afford housing. Others were fleeing a domestic violence situation that forced them to stay light on their feet, ready to flee at any time. Some dealt with persistent physical or developmental disabilities, having fallen through the cracks of the health care system.

‘What happened to the human?’

Elsewhere in the county, some volunteers didn’t find many people to survey.

Asheville City Council member Kim Roney, volunteering for her third PIT count, didn’t encounter any homeless people in her designated canvass area. But that didn’t stop her from gaining a new perspective from the experience.

Interacting with several government workers along the riverways and roads to which she was assigned, Roney was pleased to hear the community’s shared concern for people living in the margins. Near overpasses, bridges and waterways, places where homeless people previously hung out, Tropical Storm Helene’s impact was evident, she notes.

“What we noticed … was closed stores, piles of mud under bridges and unstable ground that no longer seemed safe for camping. That displacement may connect with migration patterns, but it was also really humbling and scary to imagine the additional layers of trauma our neighbors must be dealing with if they were lucky enough to survive sleeping under trees and near the river,” she says. “No picture does justice to seeing camping supplies peeking out from piles of heavy clay mud and wondering what happened to the human that used to sleep there,” she adds.

Roney’s experience left her wondering if the count might reveal a decrease in the homeless population after Helene because people may have migrated to safer locations.

A question was placed on the survey this year to help give organizers an idea of the storm’s impact to the unhoused population.

Conversely, County Commissioner Drew Ball, (no relation to Val Ball) who canvassed in Swannanoa on his first PIT count, predicted a rise in the count this year because of an existing housing crisis exacerbated by the storm.

“The truth is, life is hard, and it can be fragile, and falling into homelessness can happen faster than most people realize,” he notes. “I met people today from all walks of life who were trying to survive without stable housing: young men who lost their jobs due to the storm, a single mother trying to raise her children after escaping an abusive relationship, and an elderly woman whose income could no longer keep up with skyrocketing housing costs. None of these individuals fit the typical stereotype.”

Through the veil

Benshoff’s story of life on the street also doesn’t fit the typical narrative that tries to disparage those without homes as lazy or criminal. She explains the experience of homelessness — the constant battle against the elements, bureaucracy and limited places to sleep — as living near a “veil” between the real and unreal.

So any opportunity for those operating in normal society to reach “through the veil” and have a normal interaction with someone experiencing homelessness can be very helpful, Benshoff says.

Veil or not, the resilience that those I and others saw during the PIT count was, and is, impressive. Their days are often structured around any opportunity to get such luxuries as a hot meal, a warm blanket or just a private moment in a bathroom.

“Homelessness is a difficult and often devastating experience, but those facing it still have basic rights. They deserve to be treated with respect and dignity, just like anyone else,” Drew Ball says. “[Difficult] circumstances don’t define a person’s worth or humanity. In fact, when it comes to surviving, when it comes to the fundamental human drive to endure, what could be more human?”