Photo by Timon Studler/Unsplash
Content warning: homophobia, homelessness
“As a queer person specifically, there was never a moment of rest — whether living in my car or on the streets — I always had to be on high alert. I was always filled with adrenaline. Trying to sleep on the streets, all you can think about is: ‘Is anyone coming?’”
These are the words of Xander Priddie (they/he), a pansexual, trans*, and Black youth experiencing housing instability. As a UCLA undergraduate, they majored in Theater with a concentration in Acting and Directing and earned a bachelor’s degree. They are currently working towards an Associate of Arts (AA) in Dance at Cerritos College. Xander’s academic career and queer identity spark a realization: while many of us may think of homelessness as a problem existing independent of ourselves, we must realize that it directly concerns us in more ways than one.
There’s no question that there is a stigma attached to homelessness. Stereotypes range from the idea that homeless individuals are all violent, dangerous, and mentally ill people to the idea that they’re simply lazy and filthy. These misconceptions are isolating, dehumanizing, and in many cases life-threatening, as “Research has indicated a higher suicide rate among people experiencing homelessness than the general population…more than half of people experiencing homelessness have had thoughts of suicide or have attempted suicide.” There is no shortage of assumptions people make when thinking about homelessness, and they alienate affected individuals by compartmentalizing and objectifying them as someone else’s problem.
Another effect of this perception is the way it turns homeless individuals invisible when they don’t seem to fall within the narrow confines of the public stereotype of a homeless person. This leads to the blindsiding of those struggling with housing instability. For example, homelessness in the queer community is not a new phenomenon. As a study published in 2019 shows, queer youth are at a higher risk of homelessness than non-queer youth. “Evidence suggests that LGBTQ+ youth have significantly higher risks and levels of homelessness than non‐LGBTQ+ youth in the general population,” was just one of the findings of a systematic review published in the Wiley Journal of Clinical Nursing in 2019. Homelessness has historically been and continues to be a huge issue within the queer community.
Even beyond the queer community, homelessness is a very immediate and pressing issue. A study by California’s Homeless Coordinating and Financing Council found that “At University of California (UC) campuses, five percent of students report experiencing homelessness while in college.”
To better understand the struggles faced by homeless queer students, I was privileged to interview Xander and hear about their experiences.
Charles: What is a common struggle you’ve faced, and seen others face, while dealing with housing instability?
Xander: Outside of wondering where your next meal is coming from or whether you’ll have a safe space to sleep tonight, one of the most common struggles was dehumanization. Your identity is taken away from you. You have to give up being able to maintain friendships well, you usually have to give up the few things (mostly sentimental things) you own to fit in shelter spaces, and any of your achievements are flat-out ignored — people laugh at the idea that you could be a student or are trying to get an education. To them, you’re dangerous, dirty, scary, something unpleasant. You can never be more than that.
The trauma you deal with is also a huge problem, even after being housed. I think a lot of people see the goal as becoming housed and forgetting that you were ever homeless, or using it as like a “look at you now” inspiration story. They need a sanitized version of your story because the reality is usually too traumatic to hear — you end up not being able to remember some of the horrific details because you’ve told the sanitized version so many times, so you just keep it bottled up. You want to volunteer at shelters, but it’s just so triggering you can’t bring yourself to do it.
Charles: In what ways do you feel your identities intersect with one another?
Xander: Talking about intersectionality, I never felt like I could openly express every aspect of myself. When you’re homeless, you often have to prioritize and pick and choose which identity will get you the help you need. In some shelters, you have to play straight. In other shelters, you have to be quiet about things like disability or race and focus on accentuating things like queerness.
Especially as a Black queer person, I was really restricted in being able to be affirmed in my identities. I didn’t correct a single person about my pronouns or using the right name, because I wasn’t gonna get hit like that. I wore clothes that made me feel dysphoric because if I were openly queer through things like affirming clothing, it’d put a bigger target on my back. I found that a lot of the abuse I suffered on the streets was very cisheteronormative and punished anything that went against it.
Realizing that homeless Black trans people are highly targeted was always on my mind. Even when I would find other queer people on the street, they were, rightfully so, on guard. It wasn’t time to connect or bond, there wasn’t any sense of comradery, but instead, it was like “Damn, another one of us is out here.”
A lot of shelters have LGBT policies where they understand that LGBT people exist, but that’s it, there’s no need to learn more about it or how they can support LGBT people. You’ll deal with staff who misgender you, or who tell you to be grateful for the bare minimum when it comes to those issues. And you are grateful, but you develop this less-than-human unworthy feeling.
Charles: Why in your personal opinion, do you think homelessness and the queer community are so tightly linked?
Xander: I think it has to do with the rate of separation between queer people and their families. Often they have to go outside of the home for safety and comfort. In some ways, a lot of us never had a home, in the sense of the word. A lot of us are still trying to figure out what “home” even means to us. On top of that, so many of us have been disowned or forced out, that I guess it doesn’t really feel like a new experience. It’s almost part of the norm.
Charles: How did being unhoused impact your academics? Were the effects positive or negative?
Xander: Weirdly, there were some positives, like in some ways it made me more grateful. I’m definitely not saying that anyone should have to go through homelessness to be grateful, but it did make me grateful for school as a place to go where you can exist and people hear you. It’s also sort of a motivation in a twisted way — I’m always worrying about fucking it up.
It’s like you always have to be a hardworking student — never missing an assignment, always getting high grades — just to deserve sympathy as a homeless student. And when you do well, the minute you’re prevented from being able to do an assignment (transportation, entrance fees, materials, etc.), you have to keep re-having the conversation with professors and remind them that you’re homeless.
Charles: How can we be allies to those struggling with housing instability?
Xander: Realize that mental health matters. When you see someone on the street acting out, having an episode, realize that’s a mental health need not being met. A lot of people will see a homeless person having an episode, and they’ll feel like they should be taken away, hidden, that they’re dangerous. What you have to realize is that episodes like these happen to so many people, but usually they happen within the walls of a home. People on the streets having an episode aren’t given the privilege of privacy that others have.
Financial help is always great, but it’s not the end all be all. Making kits for people is great, as well as throwing out the idea that donating to shelters is the only way to help out homeless people because honestly, not everyone knows where to go or which shelters are open to them.
When you give resources like a warm meal to an unhoused person, it might help to put it a few feet away. You don’t have to introduce yourself, you don’t have to talk, you don’t force it onto them. Let them have agency.
Offer space to hear what’s important to them, and…honestly reaffirm their beauty, because they don’t get to hear that every day. To be seen as someone beautiful or handsome or wonderful is such a stark difference from the ways they’re normally viewed.
Charles: What are some things you wish you could tell other queer youth and students who are unhoused?
Xander: There is time. There’s a rush to be on the same academic timeline as your peers, but you deserve to take the time that you need. You’ll get there. Take opportunities to take care of yourself. If you have a chance to drink some water — take it. If there’s time to rest in the shade — take it. You deserve comfort.
You don’t owe anyone your story, but please talk to people, even if it’s just about your day, or a song you want to hear, or a movie you’re excited for. Remember that your thoughts and opinions are just as important as anyone else’s, regardless of your circumstances. You deserve to be heard.
Charles: Thank you for this interview, are there any last thoughts you’d like to share on the topic?
Xander: I think it’s important for people to have empathy and remember that no one plans to be on the streets. Even if you’re secure now, you could still end up homeless in an instant. That’s not to say you should start prepping, but it’s more to point out that there’s no moral reason that some are homeless and some are not.
Xander is one of the many unhoused college students in California. One of the many queer unhoused youth in California. One of the many unhoused Bruins in California.
The problems they experience are not ones that exist in a vacuum.
Credits:
Author: Charles LeBeau (He/Him)
Copy Editors: Gwendolyn Hill (She/Her), Emma Blakely (They/She/He)