Navigating Houselessness: Systemic Challenges and Personal Stories


“Through the lens of autoethnography and anchored in a well-researched thesis, this post transforms personal struggle into systemic insight — bringing editors a narrative that’s as rigorous as it is urgent.”


Advising Instructor: Dr. H. Sharif Williams

July 2024

About a 35-55 min read, at 300-200 wpm 

Amanda Caserta

Five disabled people of color with canes, prosthetic legs, and a wheelchair sit on a rooftop deck, laughing and sharing stories. Greenery and city high-rises are visible in the background.

Note. Five disabled people of color with canes, prosthetic legs, and a wheelchair sit on a rooftop deck, laughing and sharing stories. Greenery and city high-rises are visible in the background. 

Image credit: Kasinger, Chona. (2020). Deck Party. [digital image]. Disabled and Here.

INTRODUCTION

Broken, antiquated systems manufacture houselessness.

I once was told to “get a job” — even though I already had three. Before I began using a motorized wheelchair, I appeared “normal” enough to avoid notice. That illusion of normalcy, though, often protects others from confronting their own discomfort. The fear and disgust people feel toward those who are visibly poor, disabled, or unwell—our neighbors who wander the streets dirty, disheveled, and neglected—scar the city as deeply as the asphalt itself.

The Albuquerque Police Department’s frequent seizures of tents and personal belongings not only strip houseless individuals of their last possessions but also violate their most basic human rights (Santa Cruz, 2024). Compounding this cruelty, addiction continues to devastate our communities. In 2024, Governor Michelle Lujan-Grisham declared a state of emergency over fentanyl, as New Mexico maintained the highest fatal overdose rate in the nation (Exec. Order No. 224-02, 2024).

The pharmaceutical industry’s complicity in the ongoing opioid crisis is well known (The Lancet, 2023). Yet addiction itself remains criminalized rather than treated as a public health issue. During my time unsheltered, I met women who used meth to stay awake at night to avoid assault, and men—often from blue-collar backgrounds—who used it to push their bodies through exhaustion. Each story revealed not moral failure but systemic neglect.

Research supports what lived experience makes obvious: people of color, disabled individuals, and those living with chronic illness are disproportionately represented among the unhoused. Roughly 50 percent of Americans will experience some form of disability in their lifetime, and one in four live with a non-drug-related disability at any given time (DHDS, 2024).

According to HUD’s 2018–2019 Point-in-Time count, New Mexico experienced a 27 percent rise in houselessness—the highest in the nation—just before the pandemic. By 2022, unsheltered homelessness had increased by another 17,000 nationwide, while sheltered homelessness declined (Wedeen, 2022). The total number of unhoused people in the United States now exceeds 61 million (de Sousa et al., 2023).

The pandemic forced cities to innovate. Emergency housing and resource distribution systems developed during COVID-19 demonstrate that when governments act quickly and cooperatively, suffering can be reduced. If we adapt these crisis-response models for long-term use, we can create sustainable frameworks for housing and healthcare.

Doing so will require policy reform, technological investment, and a deep commitment to equitable resource distribution. Centralized, data-driven systems could allocate funds in real time according to community needs, but only if informed by representation and lived experience. Policy must be crafted not simply for people, but with them.


Thesis and Scope

This work offers a multifaceted examination of houselessness in Albuquerque, combining personal narrative, theoretical analysis, and policy critique. It argues that structural inefficiencies within agencies perpetuate the very conditions they are meant to alleviate.

By emphasizing the over representation of minorities and disabled individuals, this study highlights how overlapping systems of oppression — economic, racial, medical, and bureaucratic — interact to produce and sustain houselessness. Through the lens of ontology and structural power, I explore why Albuquerque’s crisis is particularly severe and identify practical pathways for reform.

Drawing on lessons from pandemic-era systems, this work advocates for adaptive, intersectional policy design grounded in empathy, accessibility, and data. The goal is to inspire both attitudinal and legislative change: to move from punitive containment toward compassionate, efficient support.

Ultimately, this is a call to unmake what has been manufactured—to rebuild systems that affirm dignity rather than erode it.

Lack of Access.

Background and Context

Houselessness is not merely the absence of shelter—it is the product of interlocking systemic failures. It reflects deep fractures in healthcare, social equity, and the public imagination. Disabled individuals, particularly those managing complex or invisible conditions, face additional barriers to stability. For those living with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), cancer, or neurodivergence such as OCD, ADHD, or Autism, even accessing consistent care can become an overwhelming labyrinth.

As someone living with multiple disabilities, I’ve learned that humor can sometimes bridge the unbearable. This essay adopts humor not only as coping but as theory—as a framework to explore the absurd contradictions of our institutions. My tone is at times darkly comic because the systems themselves are absurd. This approach mirrors the “city audit report” I conducted, reading bureaucracy with the irony it often deserves.


How I Became an Unsheltered, Houseless Person

Before my psychotic break, I was undergoing chemotherapy to induce menopause following a cancer scare. The treatment’s physical toll, combined with neglect of my own basic needs, led to malnutrition and worsening health. That physical collapse, coupled with PTSD from earlier trauma, eventually tipped me into psychosis. Relationships fractured, and I lost my footing completely.

In July 2023, I had just been accepted to return to college after twenty years. The day was bright; my spider plants seemed to smile from the window. Yet beneath the optimism, a lump in my breast and a quiet dread signaled something was wrong. When the radiology office called and asked me to “come in to discuss results,” I knew what that meant.

“It’s cancer, isn’t it?” I asked the doctor.
“Yeah,” he said, looking down.

The months that followed were a blur of surgeries, biopsies, and radiation. Balancing medical appointments, coursework, and the day-to-day logistics of survival felt like running a small business. My home care system — friends and family I hired to help—kept me afloat for a time. But as relationships strained and my college, Goddard, abruptly announced its closure, the fragile structure of my life fell apart. Ironically, this was the second college I’d attended that closed while I was enrolled — the first was Antioch in 2008.

While my cancer treatment was difficult, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) has been an even more complex adversary. When I was diagnosed, few healthcare providers understood the condition. My pain and fatigue were dismissed or disbelieved—a sharp contrast to the empathy I received during cancer treatment. EDS involves chronic, intractable pain and extreme joint instability. Combined with PTSD, the condition pushes the nervous system into perpetual overdrive.

The resulting storms—physical, psychological, financial—often felt insurmountable. But through them, I learned that community, even when fragile, can be life-saving. Friends, neighbors, and the occasional stranger have been essential to my survival.


What Happens Without Self-Care: You Break

I remember terrifyingly little from the peak of my psychosis. My oncology team believes the delusions stemmed from a mix of chemotherapy drugs, induced menopause, and severe malnutrition. When I left the hospital, I wandered the streets for weeks, disoriented and in pain, living in a reality that no longer aligned with consensus.

I carried almost nothing—too weak to manage more than a small bag—and each night’s sleep felt like a gamble. I fell often. My disjointed gait, caused by POTS and hypermobility, made strangers assume I was high. A man once told me I looked like I was “on something.” In truth, I was only trying to stay upright.

Friends began posting signs to find me. Eventually, I surfaced at a police substation to report a robbery, desperate and shaking. That’s when a man with a “Santa Claus” look approached me outside a downtown café. I was spiraling into panic—afraid of arrest, terrified I’d have an accident before reaching a bathroom. He offered calm, kindness, and a sandwich.

He even offered me a place to stay for the summer, though I declined due to family obligations. Still, his compassion shifted something in me. He pointed me toward resources, including St. ______ Church, though getting there proved its own ordeal: buses out of service, incorrect directions, and physical exhaustion from the smallest detours.

In those days, I lost nearly everything I owned—stolen, discarded, or confiscated. I witnessed another unhoused person attempt suicide with a needle. I mistook it at the time for a sign, part of the delusional logic that had taken over my mind. I was terrified, and my OCD only worsened it, trapping me in obsessive loops of note-taking and confusion.

Sarah Onifade put it best: “We’re all one bad day away from being homeless.” (Onifade, 2022)

That single sentence captures the truth most people refuse to see.

Ontologies, Theoretical Frameworks, & Structural Issues

Tragedy vs Comedy In Real-Life

As I reflect on my experience, I find it as darkly comedic as it is tragic. Becoming unsheltered just after choosing “houselessness” as the focus of my self-directed study felt like the universe’s cruelest joke. During the spring of 2024, I poured my observations into field notes and essays—recording how Goddard College’s program had supported me through breast cancer treatment, and how that same institutional structure also amplified chaos.

Goddard’s sudden closure compounded the trauma. It echoed what happened when Antioch — my first alma mater — also collapsed during my studies in 2008. Twice in twenty years, I watched education systems that promised freedom implode under the weight of bureaucracy. These experiences became metaphors for how institutional structures — designed to nurture — can also betray and abandon.

I began to see the irony everywhere: colleges run like businesses, hospitals that harm, shelters that exclude, police who “protect” by destroying tents. These contradictions are tragic, but they also border on absurdist comedy. And through that absurdity, patterns emerge.

When I lived on the streets, my chronic illness made me look intoxicated. My gait was uneven; I stumbled. Once, a tattooed man outside a “free phone” booth told me I looked “on drugs” as he performed folk magic with a grin. He wasn’t trying to insult me—he was stating what he thought was obvious. It reminded me how easily disability is mistaken for deviance. The bias that shapes these snap judgments mirrors the same structural failures that label addiction a moral issue rather than a systemic wound.

Another night, a young white man on the ART 777 platform yelled at me:

“You look like you’re out here for fun! Or because you have some kind of debt!”

His words were spit with anger, but beneath them was fear — the kind that erupts when people are forced to see how fragile their own security is. These encounters taught me that stigma and policy are two faces of the same structure. Both are built on misunderstanding vulnerability.

From a friend’s couch, I began reading Aristotle’s Poetics, seeking order in the chaos. It struck me that my experience, while horrific, also had the shape of the tragicomic: suffering intertwined with absurdity. Aristotle described tragedy as the imitation of an action that evokes pity and fear; comedy, the imitation of what is ridiculous. In my story, they coexist.

I used to roll my eyes when professors brought up Aristotle or other “dead old white guys.” “Why should I care what they had to say?” I’d joke. But revisiting them while homeless made me laugh in a different way. Suddenly, those old structures of thought—poetic, tragic, comedic—became tools to analyze the modern machinery manufacturing suffering.


Reflections on Process and Structural Barriers

My descent into houselessness was both terrifying and absurd—a tragedy staged as farce. At one point, I was arrested after a psychotic episode. The police report says I jumped out of my car and shouted, “I want to ride that pony!” at a white Mustang that had blocked my path. Reading it later, I couldn’t decide whether to cry or laugh.

The arrest was rough, humiliating, and unnecessary. I wasn’t read my rights. My pain went untreated. At the hospital, I was placed in a filthy room that smelled of rot and despair. The discharge papers falsely stated I had stopped cancer treatment. Even the red EXIT light in my room took on a surreal, menacing glow. I imagined underground tunnels beneath the hospital, hiding something sinister. It sounds delusional now, but it reflected how institutional violence embeds itself into the psyche.

That experience taught me that trauma isn’t just emotional—it’s architectural. Systems built to heal can instead replicate harm. Hospitals, courts, and shelters all mirror each other in how they flatten individuality into paperwork.

Lying on my friend Jennifer’s couch afterward, I mapped these experiences in a Venn diagram inspired by Poetics. I needed a way to visualize how pain, absurdity, and structure overlapped. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs helped too: how could anyone reach self-actualization when stuck fighting for food, shelter, or medical care? Before philosophy can flourish, survival must be secured.

This synthesis — Aristotle and Maslow, tragedy and comedy, chaos and structure — became the scaffolding for understanding houselessness not just as a social issue, but as a philosophical one.

When I wandered the streets, I learned my chronic illness caused me to appear to others like I was on drugs. One day, this cool Hispanic dude with demon tattoos entertained me with some folk magic outside a “free phone” booth. He was another person to also remark that I looked like I was on drugs as I stumbled around. It is essential to understand that while many individuals use drugs, even more people face unique health challenges that can be easily mistaken for substance abuse. Symptoms of blood pooling in my legs and sudden confusion from lack of oxygen caused my face to appear disoriented, and drugged-out. This assumption comes with deeply ingrained bias and reminds of the way large structural failings like the opiate crisis, the pharmaceutical establishment and medical community continually mislabel patients, and widely add to the stigmatizing of those in vulnerable positions.

Wandering through attempts to change my circumstances and get back to my family, I faced harsh contrasts in social interactions compared to my past experiences in much different settings. I am not one to judge those who turn to substances; I’ve navigated the chaotic overlap of illness and drug use myself, and I empathize deeply with those whose choices are shaped by their circumstances. The dual experience of grappling with a misunderstood chronic illness and witnessing the struggles of others has broadened my perspective on the complexities of addiction. This empathy is integral to understanding the interplay between personal experiences and systemic structures.

One late night, a young, angry white guy yelled at me on the ART platform for the 777 after I told him I couldn’t buy him anything. “I’m broke and homeless, brother”. “Well you look just like a person who is out here for FUN. Or you have some kind of DEBT!”. His words came at me with venom and spit. A strange, out-of-place sentiment through a dream-like  curtain. My lived experience of being harshly judged by a shockingly large number of strangers underscores the need for structures informed by a nuanced understanding of health and vulnerability. This approach can inform more compassionate and effective policies, ensuring that support systems do not perpetuate stigma but rather address the multifaceted realities people face–and probably increase efficiency in most cases. Understanding and addressing these intersections is crucial for creating structures that genuinely support the diverse needs of underserved populations, as outlined later in a broader analysis of how ontologies and structures influence each other.

In time, I found myself reflecting on my journey from a dear friend’s couch. Her name is Jennifer. There, I explored comedy and tragedy through Aristotle’s Poetics essay, seeking a way to process the absurdity and trauma of my situation. The surreal experiences I had just been through echoed the tragicomic elements he described, where the absurdity mirrors the structure of the “classics” in tragedy and comedy. This approach struck me as both bitter and funny, considering my past dismissal of classic philosophers. It was even more funny because sometimes my old philosophy instructor would mention Aristotle, in particular, or some other popular philosophy icon when we would have our discussions and I would retort, “Well, I’m not sure I am interested in anything a dead old white guy had to say”. He would laugh. It was fun. 

Theoretical Frameworks and Structural Issues

Fig. 1 Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

Note. A digital sketch, “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs”. Adapted from Sketchplanations, by Jono Hey, and licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0.

My time living unsheltered exposed deep cracks in Albuquerque’s systems of care—cracks shared by cities across the nation. The failures I witnessed were not random; they were designed. The rules and rituals of our institutions often serve to maintain stability for those already secure, not to create it for those who are not.

These patterns reveal an urgent need for structural reform grounded in lived experience. To fix the system, we must first recognize how its architecture interacts with the bodies and minds of those it fails. My experience showed me how policies can become cages—and how humor, irony, and philosophical inquiry can pry them open.

In the chapters that follow, I explore how ontological insecurity, trauma, and power imbalance perpetuate houselessness, and how re-imagining these structures through empathy and representation could offer the first real steps toward repair.

Ontological Insecurity 

The way a person exists in the world — their ontology — is shaped by social structures that both sustain and restrict them. In turn, those same structures are shaped by our collective behaviors and beliefs. This feedback loop defines the human condition, but many of our inherited systems—legal, economic, medical—are relics of centuries-old thinking. The problem is that we still live inside them.

None of the people alive today created these systems, yet we are all bound by them. They are, in many cases, the root of collective trauma. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-V-TR), for example, catalogues the psychological injuries often caused by these very structures: poverty, racism, ableism, and systemic neglect.

For those at the bottom of Maslow’s hierarchy—struggling to meet basic needs—ontological insecurity becomes the air they breathe. They carry the weight of survival on their shoulders while supporting those higher up the social pyramid. Their instability sustains the illusion of others’ stability.

In examining houselessness, then, it becomes clear: this is not a population of failed individuals. It is a system that has failed individuals collectively.

Power Imbalance. Power imbalance occurs when one group or individual depends on another for survival—economically, medically, or emotionally—without reciprocal agency. Among the houseless and disabled, this imbalance is constant and often invisible.

For instance, disabled individuals who rely on federal benefits may be unable to marry without losing crucial healthcare coverage. Others remain in unsafe or unhappy relationships because the alternative— poverty and homelessness — is far worse. The same dynamic plays out in care-giving, where burnout among overworked aides often lead to neglect and resentment.

On the streets, gender compounds this danger. Women and feminine-presenting individuals face constant threats of assault and coercion. During my unsheltered period, I wore a spiked collar—not as fashion, but as armor. It kept hands and arms far away from my throat.

If policymakers want to create equitable systems, they must begin by asking: Which part of this structure creates the imbalance — and for whom?

Representation in decision-making bodies is not a gesture of inclusion; it is a prerequisite for justice. In New Mexico, minorities—particularly Black and Indigenous people — are vastly over-represented in unsheltered populations (NMCEH, 2023). It takes someone who has lived within the system to identify where it bleeds. Listening to those voices is not charity; it is strategy.

Ableism, Bias and Stigma.

Bias against disabled people, communities of color, and non-dominant religious groups is one of the most pervasive forms of structural violence. In Albuquerque, the over-representation of disabled individuals within the houseless population is staggering: more than one in four are living with a disability (CDC, 2024). This number excludes those whose disabilities stem from addiction—an omission that obscures the full scope of suffering caused by the healthcare and pharmaceutical industries.

While I lived unsheltered, I was frequently mistaken for a drug user. My disoriented walk and occasional confusion were symptoms of POTS and chronic pain, not intoxication. Yet this assumption dictated how people treated me. Even some caseworkers, paid to help, met me with indifference or disbelief. They offered irrelevant referrals or simply failed to show up. The deeper issue wasn’t individual cruelty — it was institutional fatigue, under-training, and implicit bias baked into the system.

I met others navigating similar cycles. One woman lost her dentures when city sanitation crews destroyed her tent. “How am I going to get a job with no teeth?” she asked. “Trust me, it matters.” (Angermeier, 2024). These “sweeps” are more than cruel—they are economically absurd. Each act of destruction adds barriers, increases dependency, and perpetuates poverty.

Meanwhile, cities like Albuquerque continue to spend enormous sums “cleaning up” their streets while shuffling people from one bus to another, exporting houselessness rather than solving it. Most of the houseless population here, however, are locals—they are our neighbors, not outsiders (NMCH, 2023). The city’s sweeps violate both written policy and, arguably, constitutional rights.

The recent Grants Pass Supreme Court decision, which criminalizes sleeping outdoors, threatens to worsen this crisis nationwide. In New Mexico, where the majority of houseless individuals are residents, criminalization means jailing citizens simply for existing without shelter. It is not just unjust—it is economically irrational. Studies have shown that one chronically houseless individual can cost taxpayers between $30,000 and $50,000 per year (US Interagency Council on Homelessness, 2017).

The problem isn’t a lack of funding. It’s a lack of coordination, compassion, and imagination.

A Need for Coordinated Support. Agencies that serve the houseless often operate in isolation, creating closed loops that most often lead to absolutely nowhere. I spent entire days navigating this bureaucratic maze, passed from one number to another, each representative directing me elsewhere. The only way out was to stop and re-frame my approach — something most people in crisis don’t have the luxury to do.

Eventually, I connected with the New Mexico Coalition to End Homelessness (NMCEH), a state agency that distributes federal and state funds to nonprofits serving the unhoused. For the first time, I saw how coordinated systems could actually work. Their centralized structure, though imperfect, allowed me to access housing services and communicate with multiple agencies through a single entry point.

Unfortunately, the 2024 Grants Pass Supreme Court decision now threatens to unravel progress across the country by federally criminalizing houselessness. This ruling empowers cities to fine or jail people simply for sleeping outdoors. The moral and financial cost of this decision is staggering — New Mexico citizens should not have to pay to incarcerate their own neighbors for the “crime” of existing without shelter.

Contrary to public belief, the majority of New Mexico’s houseless population is not transient. They are local residents — people who have lived, worked, and paid taxes here (NMCEH, 2021; 2023). Punitive approaches waste taxpayer money while perpetuating trauma. Real solutions require comprehensive, coordinated systems that pool resources rather than fragment them.

HUD’s Continuum of Care model and NMCEH’s Coordinated Entry System already demonstrate what’s possible when programs share data, funding, and responsibility. Policy reform should expand these models statewide, embedding representation from houseless, disabled, and minority communities in every level of decision-making.A locally Inflated Housing Crisis. Greedy landlords participating in housing market inflation combined with scarce affordable housing have created a housing crisis like Albuquerque hasn’t seen since the 2008 housing bubble crash. More than half of people are under-served here, spending a third or more of their income on house payments (Wedeen, S., 2024, January 25). In Albuquerque, in order to meet the very basics of existence and maintain a place to sleep at night, you would have had to have made at least $85k a year, just two years ago. In Santa Fe, it was near $150,000, annually (Mowahed, K., 2022, July 20), This rate has since continued to exponentially rise. 

It’s too bad, given that prior to 2019 New Mexico was easily a leader in our country spanning the last two decades, able to provide affordable housing for everyone. What has changed? A full answer to that question is not answered in the scope of this work, but is a question I hope people can find the answer to. This issue has been addressed in various ways by other cities in the US like New York, who first enacted a “Right to Counsel” ordinance in 2017, that is still in effect today (Right to Counsel in Eviction Proceedings, 2024). Comprehensive legislation that addresses rent and housing spikes and are in current practice in many other places and looks like continually reviewing and passing laws that enforce rent control and stabilization, and tenant protection laws. Zoning reform that adds inclusionary zoning, and a variety of dwelling types that coexist in a balanced and sustainable way is another path through. Governments are able to enforce transparency in the housing market, requiring landlords to provide clear information about rental history and pricing, and hold landlords accountable for discriminatory practices or substandard living conditions.

Fig. 2 ABQ Unsheltered – Transient Homelessness

Note: A figure, “ABQ Unsheltered – Transient Homelessness” adapted from the New Mexico Coalition to End Homelessness, (NMCEH, 2023, p.10) Copyright 2023. 

Ontologies and Trauma

Ontology refers to the nature of being — the framework through which we understand existence. In the context of houselessness, trauma fundamentally reshapes that ontology. It changes how reality feels, how time moves, how safety is perceived.

During my unsheltered months, trauma became the air I breathed. My brain shifted into survival mode. Logic dissolved; memory fragmented. I couldn’t think straight. If I hadn’t found help, I likely would not have survived.

This is the invisible layer most policy discussions ignore: trauma alters cognition itself. When people are expected to “follow up with services,” “attend appointments,” or “fill out forms,” the very conditions of their minds make those tasks impossible. The system interprets that as noncompliance, when it is actually a symptom of injury.

Our institutions also suffer from trauma—structural trauma. They are trapped in binary thinking:

“good or bad,” “sober or addicted,” “deserving or undeserving,” “normal or different.”

This dualistic logic flattens human experience and produces inefficiency. In reality, human lives exist on the spectrum — spectrums of health, ability, stability, and need. When we visualize these spectrums as constellations rather than categories, new possibilities for reform appear.

A trauma-informed, ontologically-aware system would recognize that people simply do not fit into neat little boxes or categories. It would offer adaptive support calibrated to shifting needs — much like how emergency systems operated during the pandemic, when flexibility became a survival tool.

By embracing nuance, we can begin to design policies that actually work for the living, breathing, unpredictable humans they’re meant to serve.

Reflections on Process & Structural Barriers

Exploring my thoughts interweaving tragedy and comedy into my experiences clarified for me many societal attitudes and support systems that both perpetuate and, in fact, manufacture houselessness. Words and policy clearly matter based on all research done on the subject. Representation will be crucial in solving this cultural crisis in New Mexico. The continued lack of representation and comprehensive policy lead to wasted resources, fear, and continued social unrest. It was previously found that one individual who is chronically houseless was costing governments and taxpayers from $30,000 to $50,000 a person, per year (US Inter-agency Council on Homelessness, 2017). 

As I reflect on my experiences, I find solace in the interplay of tragedy and comedy, and appreciate the insights I’ve gained into how I can transmute the energy of my story into a more detailed understanding of these broken systems manufacturing houselessness in Albuquerque. I think we should be able to tell our stories, and make it epic. A nod to Toni Cade Bambara; I see no reason why this kind of revolution can’t be irresistible, yet. (Bambara,1982).

 “Our society must make it right and possible for old people not to fear the young or be deserted by them, for the test of a civilization is the way that it cares for its helpless members.” 

— Pearl (Sydenstricker) Buck, from 1932 Book The Good Year  

Policy and Community Responses That Work

Coordinated and Centralized Access Points for Social Services and Case Management Systems. Many individuals experiencing houselessness face fragmented services due to agencies working in isolation. This often results in individuals being shuffled between services without comprehensive support.

Here is where New Mexico’s Continuum of Care agency – a structured nationwide funding distribution program sponsored by HUD – the New Mexico Coalition to End Homelessness exemplifies how coordinated and centralized case management systems might have the capacity to ensure diverse representation and inform public policy. I have experienced their phone management and texting service to be fast and efficient, and the systems powering their client-to-organization matching seems impressively effective.

Case Study: New Mexico Coalition to End Homelessness (NMCEH)

Key Initiatives:

Impact: These initiatives improve efficiency, reduce duplication, and ensure consistent and holistic support for individuals, aligning with my own lived experience navigating these systems.

Representation in Policy Making

I have been honored to serve as a volunteer on the Albuquerque ADA Advisory Board for the city this year. Our job is to review city policy and property to ensure ADA compliance. In addition, we educate and inform the public about disability rights and current events. We aim to branch out and create links with other agencies within the CoA and around the community to further disability advocacy. Policies that are more attuned to the actual needs and experiences of marginalized communities lead to more equitable and effective solutions throughout.

By addressing accessibility and inclusion, the ADA Advisory Council directly impacts the support available to disabled individuals, including those experiencing houselessness. For instance, if the council identifies gaps in accessibility for shelters or public services, they can recommend changes to improve access for all individuals, regardless of their housing status.

Policy Work. Consistently addressing these priorities would not only help disabled individuals navigate services more effectively throughout the city but also contribute to a more comprehensive approach to addressing houselessness by integrating accessibility into the city’s broader policy framework, further fulfilling the council’s written objective.

Accessible Housing Design in Affordable Housing Projects.

  • Universal Design Principles in Program Structures: In Portland, Oregon, the nonprofit organization Community Partners for Affordable Housing (CPAH) incorporated Universal Design principles into their affordable housing projects. Universal Design ensures that housing is accessible and usable by people of all abilities and ages.

Inclusive Architecture From the Ground Up: Housing units are designed with features like no-step entrances, wider doorways, and adjustable-height counters, which accommodate a range of physical abilities.

Resident Involvement: The design process involved input from current and former residents, including those with disabilities, to ensure that the features met their needs.

This approach not only improves accessibility for people with disabilities but also creates a more inclusive environment that benefits everyone.

Connection to Ontologies and Solutions. These examples demonstrate how incorporating diverse perspectives and needs into housing design can address systemic barriers and improve outcomes for marginalized groups. By adopting Universal Design, CPAH addresses the unique ontological experiences of individuals with different physical abilities and creates a more equitable living environment.

Documentation and Resources

At the end of the day, none of the draconian, oppressive structures that have been handed down for eons were created by anyone alive today, and democracy is just a baby.

Impact of COVID-19

Interestingly, the city and state’s fast response and quick decision-making in managing and funding the COVID-19 emergency prevented houseless rates from rising at pre-pandemic rates (NAEH, 2022). Unlike other cities, Albuquerque did not see a negative impact on houseless numbers due to the pandemic. Many structures created during this time are still supporting good work, particularly within the Bernalillo County Homeless Shelter, where I reside. Initially, this nimble and unique program housed first responders and their families who needed to isolate or were traveling from out of state. It has since transitioned into housing the houseless, starting with over 150 families. Recently, some of the old rooms were shut down, and they are now down to 86 families, all who have experienced “street homelessness”. This adaptation is uniquely suited to be franchised, in a manner, bringing the structure and “how-tos” of the organization to other hotels and agencies in the area. The working model they have created can expand to help medium and small businesses while providing shelter to those who need it most. Presently, this program supports a three-month stay per family, allowing us the unique opportunity to rest, focus on obtaining permanent housing, work and schooling, while managing difficulties along the way. 

Audit of Accessed and Available Resources  

This is a fast snapshot of programs I’ve interacted with, highlighting successes and challenges:

  • Agora Crisis Center: Lifeline support via phone; limited access to phones elsewhere.
  • Albuquerque Housing Services (AHA): Pre-application process worked, but general Section 8 lottery closed.
  • All Nations Wellness and Healing Center: Holistic support for Indigenous communities; limited appointments.
  • Bernalillo County Community Connections Housing Program: Supports high-risk individuals with hospitalizations/substance history; excludes others without such backgrounds.
  • Bernalillo County Family Homeless Shelter: Adaptable and responsive with strong inter-agency networks.
  • Catholic Charities of NM & Housingnm.org: Clear guidance but service access often depends on NMCEH coordination.
  • Gateway/Gateway Women’s Shelter, Maya’s Place, HopeWorks/HopeFound, HopeVillage: Varying access, often complicated by outdated systems or eligibility requirements.
  • Safe House, Safe Link, Secure Transportation, Sunvan, SOURCE NM: Varying accessibility; systemic navigation required.
  • Presbyterian Centennial Turquoise Care Insurance: Critical support for medical and mental health needs; gaps exist in personalized care.

Observation: Many programs require in-person verification, have long waiting lists, or outdated phone systems, creating barriers for people with disabilities or limited access to technology.


TL;DR Note: The following is in no way intended to represent an exhaustive list of every agency I am involved with or contacted. Instead of a “snapshot”, here’s more of a “sketch” from the original paper.

     Agora Crisis Center.

  • What worked:  This center was a literal lifeline for me. During much of my time outside, I couldn’t access a phone. When I finally did at a police substation, I found their pamphlet. The woman on the phone provided both consistent reassurance, a kind shoulder, and step-by-step guidance. It was the best, most comprehensive help I had received until recently, at my lowest point
  • What Was Hard: Access to phones is often barred for various reasons. It’s more difficult than one might imagine. A street friend told me you could use one in the Presbyterian Hospital lobby. It took me an entire afternoon to get there, only to find the phone wasn’t working. ‘Don’t listen to ‘people‘!’ another person later urged.

     Albuquerque Housing Services. (Managed by the AHA)

  • What Worked: I successfully applied to the pre-application process for the waiting list of a few apartments set aside for the disabled through the ABQHA.org project-based voucher (PBV) program. I discovered this online at a friend’s house after my belongings were stolen, and I came off the street.
  • What Was Hard: The general AHA public housing (Section 8) lottery program is closed until further notice due to a lack of funding.
  • The waiting list numbers:
    • My active position on the IVR (general) waitlist is 247. 
    • For “The Commons” apartments I am number 2,792. 
    • For “Harper Apartments” I am number 3,653. 
    • At “Broadway McKnight”, I am number 3,610. 
    • I am 1,175 for the “Pah! Highland Plaza” Apartments for the deaf. I am not deaf, but they will take someone who uses a wheelchair

Two months have passed since I applied, and my positions have not advanced.

Additional Notes: They, and other low-income rental offices, require me to come in person, presumably to verify my disability status rather than treating me like any other applicant. Despite having ample medical records necessary for approval, requiring an in-person visit for the application feels unfair.

Albuquerque Indian Center. (free meals)

What worked: The center provides free meals, which is incredibly valuable if you’re in the vicinity and aware of their locations. It was a reliable resource when I could access it, offering much-needed nourishment during challenging times.

What Was Hard: Special dietary needs often cannot be accommodated due to funding constraints. Additionally, logistical challenges such as managing appointments, illness, and navigating the bus system led to frequent missed meals.

Additional Notes: Improving the ability to accommodate special dietary requirements and enhancing outreach to ensure people know about the center’s services could make this resource even more effective.

     All Nations Wellness and Healing Center.

  • What worked: The center offers comprehensive support, including medical care, mental health services, and wellness programs designed specifically for indigenous communities. Their culturally sensitive approach makes individuals feel respected and understood, which is crucial during times of physical and mental health challenges. I found their holistic and inclusive care particularly beneficial.
  • What Was Hard: Access to services can be constrained by specific eligibility requirements and geographical limitations. Additionally, high demand often stretches their resources thin, leading to longer wait times for appointments and services. Navigating the various programs and understanding how to access the full range of services can be confusing without clear guidance.

     Barrett House.

  • What worked: While I did not have substantial experience with Barrett House, my interactions were positive. The staff were friendly during multiple phone calls, which were uneventful but courteous.
  • What Was Hard: Barrett House was part of the frustrating “loop” of agencies that I encountered. I spent an entire afternoon calling various agencies within this loop, only to be directed from one to another with no resolution. This cycle ultimately led me back to the community outreach office at UNMH, where I received the same resources I had been given upon leaving the hospital. Despite my persistence, no meaningful effort was made to collaborate or address my needs more effectively.

     Bernalillo County Community Connections Housing Program.

  • What Worked: The program offers supportive housing, specific to individuals with precarious housing situations and significant health problems or trauma. It is required that clients have experienced at least one in-patient hospital admission in the past six months…
  • What Was Hard:… and a history of substance use. which is a barrier for individuals without this issue. While I am grateful for advocacy programs supporting those with substance use problems, my situation does not involve this difficulty. As a result, this requirement limits access to the supportive housing program for individuals like me who are dealing with other challenges but do not have a history of substance use.

     Bernalillo County Family Homeless Shelter.

  • What Worked: The program is adaptable and responsive, with staff who are knowledgeable, motivated, polite, and effective. They have established strong networks with other agencies and community stakeholders, which has led to innovative and supportive solutions for clients. For example, their mobile playground unit provides entertainment for young children at the shelter, demonstrating their commitment to meeting the diverse needs of families.
  • What Was Hard: Sometimes other residents and neighbors nearby have had to deal with mental health issues and the police. That said, the police were chill in the two instances I saw in the past few months – one on site, and another across the street. 

     Bernalillo County Housing.

  • What Worked: Bernalillo County Housing is effectively collaborating with the New Mexico Coalition to End Homelessness (NMCEH), which has contributed to a smoother rapid rehousing process. This partnership has facilitated better coordination and support in addressing housing needs.
  • What Was Hard: The distribution of resources could be more organized. Improved coordination through overarching agencies might enhance accessibility to these programs and make it easier for individuals to benefit from available housing assistance.

     Casa Esperanza. 

  • What Worked: I contacted Casa Esperanza and found their staff to be friendly and helpful over the phone. They informed me that they could provide temporary lodging at a rate of $50 per night and mentioned that there might be funds available to cover this cost.
  • What Was Hard: While I was referred to Casa Esperanza as an emergency option for temporary accommodation, it was challenging to assess the reliability of this service based on past experiences with similar organizations. The effectiveness of this option in a real emergency situation remains uncertain.

     Catholic Charities of New Mexico.

  • What Worked: I was able to speak with someone on the phone who was polite and informative. Based on the information available on their website, I appear to qualify for their services. Although Catholic Charities does not distribute vouchers directly, their website provides clear instructions on how to apply through the NMCEH to initiate the process.
  • What Was Hard: As of May 29, 2024, I followed up with Catholic Charities and learned that their application process for vouchers and rent assistance is currently closed due to high volume. This information was noted in the “Quick Reference and Notes” for this project.

     Crossroads for Women.

  • What Worked: Crossroads for Women is widely listed and highly recommended, indicating a strong reputation. However, its specific functions and target population are not clearly communicated, which can make it seem somewhat ambiguous among other resources.
  • What Was Hard: The program cannot meet my needs as it primarily serves women who have been previously incarcerated. This important detail was not clearly stated in their materials or website and was also repeatedly suggested to me by agency workers, despite it not being relevant to my situation.

     DVR. (The Department of Vocational Rehabilitation)

  • What Worked: The DVR program offers essential support for incidental expenses and provides comprehensive case management designed to advance professional development. This support extends to individuals pursuing educational goals and those aiming to enhance their job and career prospects.
  • What Was Hard: The phone service proved challenging, and there were instances of less-than-ideal interactions with staff, particularly towards individuals in wheelchairs. This was also observed during in-person visits. The lengthy wait times for appointments are another area of concern, suggesting potential opportunities for service improvement.

Gateway/Gateway Women’s Shelter.

  • What Worked: Gateway is well-known and frequently praised for its services. They have a strong reputation in the community
  • What Was Hard: From my notes: 

“During the week of 5/6 to 5/12, I arrived at Gateway but was informed at the door that I needed to be ‘checked in’ before entering. There were no clear instructions on how to complete this process, and I was unsure of the next steps. Despite my efforts, the person at the door was unable to assist me. Fortunately, the security guard allowed me to use their personal phone to seek alternative shelter, but unfortunately, I was unable to secure a place that night.”

Heading Home.

  • What Worked: The staff at Heading Home were knowledgeable, friendly, and provided clear instructions on what to expect.
  • What Was Hard: There is a perception that this program is “slightly more regimented,” which may not align with every individual’s needs. While structured approaches can be beneficial, it’s important to consider and discuss the best ways to accommodate diverse disabilities and personal circumstances with advocates.

HELP New Mexico, Inc. (a short-term housing assistance program)

  • What Worked: HELP New Mexico, Inc. is widely listed and frequently recommended for short-term housing assistance.
  • What Was Hard: They do not serve Bernalillo County, which raises concerns about why their information is circulated so widely in this area. It might be beneficial to establish a policy for regularly updating and auditing such information to ensure its accuracy. Consideration could also be given to whether IT at NMCEH can assist with addressing these discrepancies.

Hopecenter. (on the bottom floor of St. Michaels)

  • What Worked: The HopeWorks Day Shelter, located on the bottom floor of St. Michaels, offers ample seating, shade, water, and food, providing essential resources for the houseless.
  • What Was Hard: I noticed that most of the houseless individuals were gathered outside the fence. I’m unsure of the reasons behind this arrangement and continue to be puzzled by it. Seeing a man in a walker while taking pictures of the staircase was particularly emotional for me.

HopeFound. (Housed at  St. Michael’s)

  • What Worked: HopeFound is listed in various resources, which initially suggests availability.
  • What Was Hard: Despite being listed, HopeFound is no longer an active program due to lack of funding. 

According to my notes:

  • HopeFound’s defunct voucher program is no longer operational.
  • Attempts to reach someone via their website or phone number were unsuccessful, as there was no response or option to leave a message.
  • There was confusion at the time, a few months ago, about whether this program was related or not to Hope Village or the Hawthorne Suites Program and how that might be. When I contacted their intake person on 5/8, I was informed that no vouchers were available.

Additionally, I reached out to Brian Stiner regarding software called “Roofs” intended to improve HopeWorks. He suggested checking out ccasfnm.org/rapidrehousing.html,  but I had already explored these options and encountered similar issues.

HopeVillage. (vouchers distributed by St. Michael’s)

  • What Worked: I didn’t experience any specific issues with this program, but unfortunately, I did not receive any communication from them regarding my application status. Typically, I have received confirmation on whether I qualify or not, so I can proceed with other options.
  • What Was Hard: I’m unsure of my qualification status since I did not receive any feedback. I plan to investigate further in the future and hope to connect with someone who can provide clarity on my application.

HopeWorks.  (both entries are from my “Quick Reference and Notes” self-guide for this self-study)

  • What Worked: The main (and biggest) benefit from this program was finally getting onto the list for the NMCEH. Despite significant challenges with the program, this was a crucial step. However, there were considerable issues with communication and access. The phone line was often non-functional, and when I attempted to visit the housing location, no one answered. The “Hopefound” program, previously housed under HopeWorks, has been defunct and is no longer providing vouchers.
  • What Was Hard: I faced numerous difficulties with the defunct “Hopefound” program, which was part of the HopeWorks network. The program’s closure was communicated to me on Monday, April 29, 2024, leaving many, including myself, abruptly without support. During this time, I could only reach out through the NM Coalition to End Homelessness Survey texting number, which was not effective due to my lack of phone access. I managed to update them with my new number on May 30 after several unsuccessful attempts to connect with anyone at the shelter or agency.

I was referred to the Hawthorne program through this process and connected with a specialist at the St. Michael’s address. Unfortunately, I was unable to contact her directly as she did not provide her number and instructed me to use the “main number,” which proved ineffective.

Additionally, on May 14, I called St. Martin’s (505) 242-4399 during their operating hours, referring to the “Albuquerque Affordable Housing and Homelessness Needs Assessment” prepared by the Urban Institute. The phone system, which had updated extensions in 2023, was confusing and ineffective. I spent 45 minutes to an hour navigating the system, only to find no way to speak with a person or leave a message.

Housingnm.org

  • What Worked: Housingnm.org provided useful guidance by directing me to Catholic Charities of New Mexico, where I confirmed again the necessity of securing assistance through NMCEH first if I was going to get any housing assistance or vouchers from anywhere. 
  • What Was Hard: Despite appearing to meet the qualifications listed on their website, I have not been successfully matched with their services. 

HUD Emergency Housing Voucher Program.

  • What Worked: The existence of this agency and its programs have been an enormous relief.
  • What Was Hard: The agency’s role within the broader rehousing process remains unclear and somewhat complicated. I am still working to fully understand how their many services and programs fit into the overall distribution system.

Joy Junction.

  • What Worked: Joy Junction is well-listed and consistently answers the phone with kindness and friendliness. 
  • What Was Hard: The shelter is not accessible via the bus system and operates as an overnight emergency shelter where entry requires a phone call. I had to repeatedly figure out that transportation to the location was both not available to me and that I needed to call ahead for admission in my dizzying confusion.

Linkages Program. 

  • What Worked: It was heartwarming to see a program dedicated to serving families. I appreciated the swift response and the thoughtful follow-up call informing me of my disqualification. The caller was surprised by my calm demeanor, which contrasted with the common frustration others experience. I understand the stress involved and am grateful for the opportunity to move forward through the system.
  • What Was Hard: My child was just about to turn 18, which made us ineligible, as the program is designed for families with younger children. Her Autism diagnosis did not change this criterion.

Maya’s Place.

  • What Worked: Maya’s Place is frequently mentioned and highly recommended by caseworkers and managers. Its prominence and positive reputation were notable. 
  • What Was Hard: The program is specifically for previously incarcerated women, a detail that is often not clearly stated in the materials where it is advertised.

MFA. (Mortgage Finance Authority)

  • What Worked: The MFA offers “Subsidized Rental Properties” and “Affordable Rental Properties,” which can be valuable resources for securing housing.
  • What Was Hard: The program presents challenges such as stigma related to the need for in-person appearances, which differs from other processes. Additionally, the waiting lists are long and highly competitive. According to my community care coordinator at Presbyterian Turquoise Care Medicaid Insurance, being in school may disadvantage me compared to applicants with stable, current income, despite the school income I am likely to receive this coming school term.

New Mexico Cancer Council.

  • What Worked: The New Mexico Cancer Council provides valuable assistance for individuals facing medical debt, which is incredibly supportive.
  • What Was Hard: The funds provided are designated specifically for extra medical expenses. This audit reflects a broad overview of my experiences as I attempt to transition from unsheltered houselessness. Even before this period, managing schoolwork and medical stress during cancer therapy was challenging. The added strain made it increasingly difficult to handle basic tasks independently, exacerbating my situation before my move from my previous residence.

New Mexico Coalition for the Homeless.

  • What Worked: The New Mexico Coalition for the Homeless is a state agency that effectively distributes federal and state funds to service providers. My caseworker, Cameron, has been consistently kind and proactive, keeping me informed about available resources and working diligently to improve my situation. The agency’s text message system is responsive, and interim staff provide timely updates on next steps. Since our initial contact, my situation has been steadily improving thanks to their support.
  • What Was Hard: It became clear only after I was deep into the program that this agency might be the primary source for help with funding and voucher programs. The process seemed somewhat obscured by the involvement of other agencies, which made understanding the central role of this organization challenging until later in the process. However, the visual maps on their website are helpful for understanding their structures and processes.

New Mexico Solutions.

  • What Worked: This comprehensive program effectively addresses three major areas crucial for individuals with behavioral health issues. It includes dedicated coordinators for medical management, assistance with doctor visits for those struggling with appointment management, a behavioral learning component to support transitions to independence, and help with accessing community resources.
  • What Was Hard:  With so many components and activities, maintaining a consistent schedule can be challenging. It appears that effective scheduling and time management are needed skills for successfully navigating the benefits and support services offered by the program.

Presbyterian Centennial Turquoise Care Insurance.

  • What Worked: The team of care coordinators at Presbyterian Centennial Turquoise Care have been instrumental during every step of my medical journey. The program itself offers a range of valuable services, including access to comprehensive medical care, assistance with appointments, and connections to community resources that are crucial for managing both my genetic illness and mental health issues. The support has been crucial in my efforts to stabilize my situation and continue pursuing my goals.
  • What Was Hard:  While the program offers extensive support, there was a gap in understanding my specific needs in various areas. The community coordinator was unaware of the additional challenges posed by my cancer treatment. This lack of awareness highlighted a need for more personalized communication in these spaces, even if it’s automated, and a deeper understanding of individual circumstances to fully address all aspects of one’s situation. 

Safe House. (for survivors of domestic violence)

  • What Worked: They have provided valuable support and counseling in the past when I needed it. 
  • What Was Hard: I am not eligible for their services.

Safe Link. (free cell phone)

  • What Worked: This program is frequently mentioned and widely known.
  • What Was Hard: Despite its widespread reputation for being accessible, I have struggled to locate it. I attempted to find their services near Walmart, but they were not available there, and my case manager clarified that this was not the correct location.

Secure Transportation.

  • What Worked: The application process for Secure Transportation is straightforward and quick, and the service is generally reliable when scheduled in advance.
  • What Was Hard: Some drivers have exhibited unprofessional behavior, leading to uncomfortable experiences.

Sunvan.

  • What Worked: I have not yet progressed fully with Sunvan, but I remain hopeful. There are alternative transportation options available to me in the meantime.
  • What Was Hard: I encountered several challenges with the application process, including repeated difficulties with locating my application. Additionally, I received incorrect written directions and bus information, which complicated my efforts. Concerns were raised by a colleague that the process might involve unnecessary hurdles to verify disability status.

SOURCE New Mexico.

  • What Worked: Help applying for SSI income 
  • What Was Hard: Despite multiple attempts to reach out, my calls have not been returned, leading to communication challenges.

Steelbridge.

  • What Worked: Steelbridge provides targeted support for human trafficking, youth, and substance abuse, which is commendable and important.
  • What Was Hard:Although frequently referred to me, I do not qualify for this program. Navigating this referral loop required careful note-taking to avoid repeated confusion. I would have to remember, again, that I did not qualify, and got much better at consulting my notes. 

St. John’s Episcopal Church.

  • What Worked: Contacting St. John’s Episcopal Church helped me get closer to the St. Michael’s Hopeworks shelter and voucher programs from the county.
  • What Was Hard: I encountered several issues, including incorrect address information and misleading instructions. The address listed online (614 2nd St. NW) was incorrect; the correct address is 318 Silver. Additionally, I was told to visit on Saturdays for medical help, but I had difficulty accessing services due to irregular bus schedules and unverified referrals. Despite multiple attempts and speaking with someone there, I have not yet confirmed their services.

St. Michaels.

  • What Worked: St. Michael’s provides a well-equipped day shelter, offering ample space, shade, and easily accessible water, which is crucial in the heat. Their connection with the New Mexico Coalition to End Homelessness ensures access to important state funding resources, which is beneficial for those in need.
  • What Was Hard: Despite the shelter’s amenities, St. Michaels offers no honest access to housing or voucher programs. The automated answering service is outdated and unhelpful, making it challenging to get the necessary support.

Figure 3. 

Note: The bare, rusted metal staircase I had to crawl up, on my hands and knees in the hot desert sun. While angry-hot, it did not blister my hands in the morning, as it threatened to in the scorching afternoons the first few times I arrived here. 

Fig. 4

     Additional Narrative. The bare, rusted metal staircase leading up to the programs managed by St. Michael’s posed a significant challenge (pictured left). The staircase was so steep that I had to crawl up on my hands and knees under the hot desert sun. The railing was scorching, and while it didn’t blister my hands in the morning, it was dangerously hot in the afternoon. 

I took a perspective shot to illustrate the staircase’s excessive steepness.

Upon arrival, I was relieved to find an easily accessible day shelter with shade and water. However, the only way to access the other programs was to navigate the difficult staircase. My attempts to get information and assistance were complicated by the outdated and unresponsive automated phone system.

Inside the lobby, I encountered a few dated chairs and a covered window. After resting, I spoke with a staff member who confirmed they would accept my walk-in. I noticed an elderly gentleman sitting across from me, struggling to breathe after his precarious ascent. The receptionist seemed unaware of his distress.

After about 20 minutes, the staff member administered the vulnerability index from the NMCEH for me, and then insisted I call the main number for further information—the ineffective one. My attempts to reach anyone through the listed phone numbers for St. Michael’s, Hopeworks, or their funding programs have been consistently unsuccessful.

The Rock at Noonday.

  • What Worked: The Rock at Noonday offers valuable resources and support for the houseless, including a ministry that provides essential services and assistance.
  • What Was Hard: As a non-Christian, I am not seeking religious ministry, and the focus on ministering is uncomfortable. Additionally, clients are required to go through the New Mexico Coalition to End Homelessness (NCEH), and I have not been matched with their services yet.

UNMH Psychiatric Center.

  • What Worked: There were many kind people there.
  • What Was Hard: A needlessly trying and difficult experience. 

Westside Emergency Housing Center. (overnight shelter) 

  • What Worked:  The shelter consistently had available beds when I needed them and was accessible by bus. The staff were friendly and helpful.
  • What Was Hard: The shelter’s location was challenging due to its distance. It does not accommodate families and has accessibility issues, including physical barriers that make it difficult for individuals with mobility challenges to navigate in and around the bunk beds. 

Women’s Housing Coalition.

  • What Worked: Full time students welcome 
  • What Was Hard: The program requires $360 per month for a two-bedroom unit, and I’m unclear about how they feel about scholarship income. While I don’t have a partner or spouse, the stipulation against partners, boyfriends, or husbands is noted. Additionally, my fluctuating income poses a challenge.

Conclusion

Summary and Reflections

  • Note: all PIT count numbers are under-reported based on numerous factors. It is only meant to be a snapshot in time, to represent any given moment. (NMCEH, 2023, p. 5).

Humor and Structural Issues. Examining humor amidst tragedy can reveal underlying structural issues. Jokes about Albuquerque being ‘ghetto,’ particularly in the underserved ‘International District,’ raise a few questions: Are we laughing at these people or with them? Are they laughing at all?

The numbers clearly show that a significant portion of the houseless population in our city consists of minorities and individuals with disabilities. This reality contrasts sharply with the attitude and actions of our mayor, who exists within a straight, white, married cis male who appears by all accounts to value the underserved, and also displayed outright hostility toward the houseless community when he and the police chief forgot people were looking. These attitudes are widespread and manifest in policies that neglect areas like the International District and other neighborhoods predominantly inhabited by minorities. Unlike more affluent districts, these areas do not receive equal city funding for amenities such as dog parks, children’s entertainment, beautification projects, or even basic services like garbage collection. This inequality can be seen extending to public niceties like benches and sitting areas, which appear more prevalent in wealthier parts of the city.

Broader Societal Issues. City workers, including some lawyers, are sometimes overheard publicly dismissing the needs of the houseless and mocking policies designed to support them. Such behavior highlights a broader societal issue: the tendency to devalue individuals who are not seen as “productive” members of society. This mindset is a core component of ableism, a concept I hadn’t fully understood until I experienced greater freedom using a wheelchair. It reveals a fear among many people that their own productivity and value might be threatened if they acknowledge and support those who are less fortunate. Underneath this fear looks like a deep wound related to their own deep feelings of shame and unworthiness. I never felt this more sharply than from some of my neighbors when I lost my place to live this year.

Disconnects in Policy Enforcement. There are clear disconnects in how we enforce existing structures like the ADA and in the rhetoric of local leaders who campaign on promises to help the houseless but then adopt punitive measures against them. What societal constructs perpetuate these attitudes and how do our ontologies intersect here? How does this affect the inclusiveness of policies in practice? To disdain the houseless is to disdain the poor, the sick, and the helpless. Addressing these issues requires identifying and nurturing the positive intersections between our policies and societal structures. These disconnects between this and our individual and shared ontologies represent the points where our systems most often fail, leading to inefficiency and wasted resources. Ignoring uncomfortable problems is never a solution.

Hope for Change. I hope to see a renewed commitment to improving our state’s standing in how we treat our most vulnerable residents. This involves re-examining our core beliefs across a constellation of experiences and values and ensuring these are consistently reflected across our policies, structures, and attitudes. We must strive to create a more inclusive and supportive society for everyone.

Thankfully there is a tight network existing among those who wish to see justice in the world. So far, I have had first-rate contact with some incredible examples of effective advocacy in program structure and delivery.

The NMCEH is currently housing families, individuals, and youth departments. They are expanding to include a separate department to house the multi-state Built For Zero campaign, a cross-city initiative. This strategy has been replicated in other cities, and both Albuquerque and Santa Fe are beginning to participate in the past several months. The campaign’s objective is to build extensive data demographics that build frameworks and inform strategies to alleviate houselessness. Santa Fe has been trying to get this off the ground for some years, and Albuquerque is ahead of this, in the first six months of existence.

Closing Remarks

Despite systemic challenges, coordinated access points, accessible housing design, and inclusive policy advocacy provide a blueprint for improved services and better outcomes. A renewed focus on accessibility, equity, and collaboration can create sustainable solutions for New Mexico’s most vulnerable residents.

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The Lancet Regional Health – Americas. (2023, July). Opioid crisis: addiction, overprescription, and insufficient primary prevention. [editorial]. Elsevier Ltd. Volume 23. (100557). Abstract. Retrieved from: Opioid crisis: addiction, overprescription, and insufficient primary prevention – The Lancet Regional Health – Americas

Unruh-Enos, T., Davis, P. (2024, January 29). Texts show APD Chief, Mayor Keller discuss plan to “hammer the unhoused”. Previously unreleased texts between the mayor and chief show internal plans to change city approach to homeless. [Newspaper]. City Desk. [updated 2024]. Retrieved from: https://citydesk.org/2024/apd-chief-to-mayor-lets-plan-we-hammer-the-unhoused/  

U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. (2024, August 2). Section 811 Supportive Housing for Persons with Disabilities. [Webpage]. Retrieved from: https://www.hud.gov/program_offices/housing/mfh/progdesc/disab811 

U.S. Interagency Council on Homelessness. (2017). Ending chronic homelessness in 2017: no one with a disability should have to experience long term homelessness. [pdf whitepaper]. Retrieved from: https://web.archive.org/web/20190830190630/https://www.usich.gov/resources/uploads/asset_library/Ending_Chronic_Homelessness_in_2017.pdf 

Wedeen, S. (2024, January 25). New study finds New Mexico renters are still strugglingMycofski, M. [Radio Broadcast Interview]. KUNM. Retrieved From: New study finds New Mexico renters are still struggling  


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