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The Spokesman-Review
The Washington Post
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The Spokesman-Review
By Zeke Smith
As of June 24, there were more than 550 people living in Camp Hope, the small tent city on state highway lands on East Second Avenue. According to state officials, this makes it the largest homeless encampment currently in all of Washington. This is the same encampment that began as an organized protest over the closing of a shelter in Spokane a little over a year ago with less than 100 people involved.
Camp Hope’s growth is a direct statement about our community’s inability to address the realities of homelessness.
More individuals and families have been pushed out of stable, affordable housing, less shelter capacity is available, and people are dying on our streets. We have not responded effectively to the growing human tragedy around us.
This encampment also represents hope, as indicated by the name. What began as a protest has transformed into an act of resilience. The residents have formed their own leadership council, and actively work to create as safe a place as possible. While local leaders have expressed concern about rising crime in the community surrounding Camp Hope, it hasn’t really risen at a rate higher than other parts of Spokane.
A small city, almost the size of Fairfield, has sprung up in the middle of Spokane.
It’s clear these community members aspire to the basic needs the rest of us enjoy – a safe place to sleep, eat and go to the bathroom; shelter and protection from the weather; and a sense of community.
How can we not do everything at our disposal to help them access the safety and sustainable housing we all have a right to?
This is not a new issue, even though the current environment has increased the size and scope of the problem. For years local governments, social service providers, and business community members have struggled with providing services that can move people from homelessness to safety and stability.
Paying for and delivering the services and housing that best meet people’s needs have constantly been barriers to sustainable change. But money’s not the problem now. With more than $208 million of Federal American Rescue Plan funds at the discretion of local governments across Spokane County and another $25 million in one-time funds from the Washington Department of Commerce to support moving residents of Camp Hope into more permanent and stable housing, our local leaders have access to more money than in any other time in recent memory.
We also know what services our homeless neighbors really need to move to more stable and permanent housing. In April the Empire Health Foundation convened almost 40 Spokane experts that know first-hand what is and isn’t working in our system of homeless services.
These participants crossed function, sector, jurisdiction – housing and health providers, outreach workers, representatives of Hello for Good and the business community, local government staffers and private philanthropy. We all came together to consider how we can take effective action in this unique moment.
This group identified and prioritized the services our local governments should fund with these new federal and state dollars currently at their disposal. It’s what we know works: increased outreach and case management, basics like bathrooms and water and trash cans, mental health and substance use services, creative transitional housing options like pallet homes, and securing over 1,000 new units of permanent sustainable housing. We can do these things right now to transform our region.
What does it take to deliver on this promise? The courage and collaboration of our elected leaders at the city of Spokane, Spokane County, and other local cities in the region to fund a comprehensive, integrated plan that addresses the real issues homelessness creates for our residents.
We have the blueprint.
We’re ready to get to work.
The 550-plus residents of Camp Hope can’t wait. As The Spokesman-Review’s Shawn Vestal noted in his June 29 column, “the solutions have to come from the community itself.” If you want to see a real difference in the way homelessness affects all of us, let your local elected officials know it’s important and urgent. Suggest they use these one-time funds now.
The need and the opportunity have never been greater.
Zeke Smith, of Spokane, is president of Empire Health Foundation, a private health foundation in Eastern Washington supporting the healing and thriving of communities and tribes whose members have been most impacted by historical injustices, persistent inequities and economic disparities.
By Amy Edelen
THE SPOKESMAN-REVIEW
More than five years ago, Jim Dawson and Mariah McKay had a vision to create a sustainable, intergenerational village with clustered homes, green space and shared amenities.
The couple’s vision was realized in May with the opening of Haystack Heights Cohousing, a 39-unit community at 731 S. Garfield St. in the South Perry District.
Haystack Heights Cohousing is the first of its kind in Spokane and Eastern Washington.
Cohousing communities consist of private, fully-equipped homes and shared common spaces, such as large dining areas, workshops, craft rooms, gardens and more.
Members own their living units, but join together for meals as well as collectivelymanage shared spaces and plan activities.
“What we really envisioned was a highly functional community where we knew our neighbors, and where we could rely on each other to make life easier and more meaningful,” Dawson said. “We got that in spades.”
Creating community
Dawson and McKay’s idea for cohousing was prompted in part by a desire to connect with others.
“We really care about community and we are community organizers in our professions, gathering people together to make a change in the world and in our city,” Dawson said.
Jim Dawson poses for a photo at Haystack Heights Cohousing in the South Perry District. Dawson co-founded the 39-unit community, which opened in May at 731 S. Garfield St.
TYLER TJOMSLAND/ THE SPOKESMAN-REVIEW
In 2017, they launched Spokane Cohousing, which was later renamed Haystack Heights Cohousing.
That same year, Haystack Heights members hired Katie McCamant of CoHousing Solutions as a development consultant.
McCamant has assisted with developing more than 50 cohousing communities in the U.S.
The project got started when Dawson and McKay bought a home on one acre from a couple on Eighth Avenue.
The same couple then agreed to sell an additional four acres for what would eventually become the Haystack Heights cohousing community. It included the Haystack Building, which was incorporated into the overall project.
As the cost of the development grew to $15 million, some parties dropped out of the project due to the investment required and uncertainty, Dawson said.
Despite turnover of members, Haystack Heights pre-sold all of its planned housing units.
“We found that there was a ton of interest and that a lot of people tried to build cohousing in the past and it didn’t happen,” Dawson said. “We were able to build our group pretty well throughout the whole process and we were sold out before we started construction.”
Haystack Heights was initially designed to include five buildings, but one structure was cut keep the project within budget.
Members formed a limited liability company and submitted down payments to build equity for a construction loan.
Those down payments were applied toward purchase of members’ housing units, which ranged in price from $250,000 to $450,000, depending on size.
“It took a lot of work to find a credit union that was willing to do the construction financing for the project, just because it was different,” Dawson said. “Even though we are using a very traditional condo association ownership model, and we had people committed wanting to put 10% to 30% down and pre-sold all the units ahead of time.”
Building success
Another key to Haystack Heights’ success was working with developers who had extensive knowledge in cohousing projects, Dawson said.
Haystack Heights members worked with Portland-based Urban Development + Partners.
McCamant of CoHousing Solutions and Spokane-based Yost Gallagher, the project contractor, were also instrumental in the project’s success, Dawson said.
“I think a lot of the communities that are not successful with cohousing are the ones that try to do it on their own,” Dawson said. “If you make one mistake, it can cost you $500,000. It takes a lot of discipline and experience to know where those pitfalls are and to avoid them.”
Because Yost Gallagher purchased lumber needed for the project prior to recent price spikes, it saved thousands of dollars in construction costs, Dawson said.
Groups looking to build cohousing communities often face a learning curve as it’s their first time developing a project.
There’s also a financial factor as cohousing communities are typically new developments that cost more per square foot compared with a 20-year old house, said Karen Gimnig, a nationally- recognized consultant with a passion for cohousing communities.
“Usually a developer with access to money, land and skills builds a property and sells it,” Gimnig said. “With cohousing, typically people who want to live together form a group and have to fund a lot of it up front.”
“They are investing in a development project, which is different than putting a down payment on a house,” she added.
People living in cohousing communities may see cost savings in other areas as they share resources, she said.
“The sense of connection and relationships – that’s the value people are buying,” Gimnig said. “You do it because you love the community.”
Cohousing growing
There are about 170 established cohousing communities in the U.S. and 125 in varying stages of development, according to the Cohousing Association of the U.S., a national nonprofit that supports newly forming and existing communities.
“We’ve certainly seen a growing interest in our programs and signups for our email list,” said Trish Becker-Hafnor, executive director of the Cohousing Association of the U.S.
The pandemic drove demand for cohousing communities as people sought connection to others to avoid isolation, Becker- Hafnor said.
“The pandemic really showed us how much we really need one another. Many of us experienced isolation in a new way and saw how much connection is tied to well-being,” she said. “As a result, we looked to other models and said to ourselves, ‘We need to create more connection and community in our lives.’ ” Spokane resident Ana Trusty was drawn to the community aspect of Haystack Heights.
Trusty learned of the cohousing project through a friend. When a spot on Haystack Heights’ waitlist opened, Trusty jumped at the opportunity to live in the community.
Trusty, a mother of two, was able to quickly sell her home in Spokane’s booming housing market, allowing her to submit a down payment for a unit at Haystack Heights.
“I’m really enjoying that there’s a lot of adults my age. I’m excited my kids get to be there and learn from so many people,” she said. “It’s a great place to raise a family, that’s for sure.”
Haystack Heights members are not alone in their efforts to develop cohousing communities in Spokane.
Former Spokane County Commissioner Bonnie Mager and her husband are among five families that have formed a group to build a cohousing community.
“We have been aware of cohousing and think it’s a great way to live,” Mager said. “Now that we are retired, we started talking to our son and daughter-in-law, and they were interested in it, and we were interested in living next to our grandkids.”
The Magers are planning to build a cohousing community with 20 to 30 units on a site that they own.
“We hope to increase to 15 families, so we can start the design process,” Mager said.
Haystack Heights has been referring interested parties to Mager’s cohousing group, which is planning a series of informational cohousing meetings and design workshops in the Spokane area.
Mager aims to break ground on the cohousing space in two years.
“We are very much looking for additional families that want to live in a multigenerational community with like-minded people who want to conserve resources and still maintain their own home,” Mager said.
Amy Edelen can be reached at (509) 459-5581 or at amye@spokesman.com.
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The Washington Post
The sheriffs arrived at 6 a.m. in early June to tell Josanne English what she already knew: She was being evicted.
She’d lost her job as a project manager near Sacramento in April, then fallen behind on rent as $6-gallon gas and higher costs for food and utilities depleted her monthly budget. By the time she lost her home two months later, she owed $9,160 in rent and late fees, and her bank account was nearing zero.
She received $1,300 in housing assistance from the county, but that didn’t go very far in an area where the average asking rent has ballooned to nearly $2,800 a month. After a week in a hotel, English and her partner sent their three children to live with relatives while they slept in their Hyundai SUV and showered at the gym.
“I made good money — last year I made almost $100,000 — and I can’t believe this happened to me,” she said. “But with prices the way they are, it can literally happen to anybody.”
Rising housing costs, combined with persistent inflation for basic necessities such as gas and food, have left more Americans newly homeless and millions more fearing they’ll soon lose their homes. Shelters across the country are reporting a sudden increase in numbers of people looking for help as they struggle to cover basics. Inflation has reached 40-year highs just as many vulnerable families are readjusting to life without a boost from government stimulus or protections to keep them from being evicted.
A rise in homelessness is the latest example of a recovery further separating the haves from the have nots. Soaring house prices have allowed existing homeowners to see their wealth balloon. Meanwhile, for a growing number of Americans, simply finding a place to spend the night is becoming more expensive and out of reach.
“We’re in a very precarious moment, where the cost of living is going up so quickly — through the price of gas and food and rent — that more people can’t afford a place to live anymore,” said Meredith Greif, an assistant professor at Johns Hopkins University whose work focuses on homelessness and inequality. “Everywhere you turn, prices are rising, but wages aren’t keeping up.”
There is limited national data on how many people are unhoused, especially since the pandemic began. In January 2020, there were more than 580,000 people in America experiencing homelessness, according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness.
In interviews, shelter officials in 15 states nationwide all reported a dramatic increase in the number of people, particularly single mothers, seeking services this year. In some cases, waitlists have doubled or tripled in a matter of months.
In the past, homelessness has often befallen those going through hard times after losing a job or shouldering unexpected medical expenses or dealing with ongoing health problems. However, this time around, shelters say they’re seeing a rise in families who still have steady, even good-paying, jobs but cannot find a home they can afford.
That growing sense of despair is palpable at Atlanta Mission, a homeless shelter where more people are talking about inflation-related burdens when they walk in the door. “Evicted from my apartment due to being behind on rent. Sleeping outside,” one person responded on an intake questionnaire. “Unable to find housing that meets her income,” another wrote.
“Before, there was a pretty big discrepancy between people who were living paycheck to paycheck, and those who weren’t,” said Rachel Reynolds, communications manager for Atlanta Mission. “I can imagine that we’re going to continue to see different types of people coming to our doors based on the sheer cost of living.”
Sabrina Barger-Turner has been living in hotels in Harford County, Md., with her two sons since her lease was terminated in early March 2020 after she struggled to pay her rent on time. But she said rising nightly rates — combined with higher costs for gas and groceries — are making it difficult to afford even that, which means she’s spending more nights in her Nissan Cube while the kids, ages 8 and 13, stay with family.
Barger-Turner, 36, says it would be cheaper to pay a monthly lease than cobbling together $89-a-night hotels, but her credit score is dinged by her children’s medical debt. She lost her $60,000 a year accounting job shortly after her son was hospitalized with severe asthma in 2019. The piecemeal work she has picked up since then is barely enough to scrape by and keeps her from qualifying for a new apartment, she added.
Her food stamps recently lapsed because the renewal paperwork went to a defunct address. She sells homemade jewelry online and sometimes picks up delivery gigs for DoorDash, though she says skyrocketing gas prices have made that cost-prohibitive.
“There is nothing I want more than to give my kids a bed of their own, so they don’t have to live like this,” she said. “Today when we switched hotels, there was a downpour. I tried to talk it up to them like it was an adventure, like this was fun. But this is anything but fun.”
Even among those who are still in their homes, the prospect of suddenly being displaced is creeping closer. An estimated 13.7 million Americans were behind on rent or mortgage payments in early June, up 7 percent from April , according to the Census Bureau’s Household Pulse Survey. Of those, 4.6 million adults say they are “somewhat likely” or “very likely” to lose their homes by eviction or foreclosure in the next two months, a 32 percent increase from early April.
Jeannie Jansen received foreclosure papers three weeks ago: She has until July 8 to pay $5,000 in overdue property taxes or she loses her home in western New York.
Jansen, 55, lives on $980 a month in Social Security disability payments. She said there’s no way to make the numbers work. She paid off her $48,000 mobile home in Wyoming, N.Y., years ago, but said she’ll likely be living in her Dodge Nitro SUV. Skyrocketing home values have lifted the median home price in her county by 16 percent in the past year, leaving her with higher property taxes just as groceries, gas and prescription medications have all gotten more expensive.
“If I lose my home, I’m going to fall further behind than ever,” said Jansen, who owned a cleaning company until she was diagnosed with a lung condition and immunodeficiency disorder in 2009. “I busted my butt for years to have what we have. I went without heat this winter. I’ve gone without everything. And it’s still not enough because prices are so high.”
Every $100 increase in median rent is associated with a 9 percent increase in the estimated homelessness rate, according to the a 2020 report by the U.S. Government Accountability Office. Economists say that figure is particularly troubling as rents continue to soar to unprecedented highs. The national median asking rent jumped to a record $2,002 in May, up 15 percent from $1,738 a year ago, according to Redfin.
For months, Venus Lopez had a work-from-home job but no home. Lopez, 35, was priced out of her Tucson apartment last October and moved into a Super 8 motel with her three sons. She tried to keep working, but the property’s spotty internet connection made it next to impossible. Last month, she lost her job; her bosses said they’d love to hire her back after she finds a permanent home.
Meanwhile, local rents have risen 22 percent from the beginning of the pandemic, making Lopez’s $1,100 budget feel increasingly impossible. She pays $483 a week for a motel room she shares with her sons, ages 3, 5 and 14, but is almost out of money. The few affordable places she’s found have months-long wait lists. She’s already borrowed money from her mother and a cousin, and has nowhere left to turn.
“With prices of everything going up, it’s becoming a challenge to even maintain what we have,” Lopez said. “Finding an affordable apartment keeps getting more unrealistic.”
The housing affordability crisis is on the minds of policymakers trying to rein in inflation. The Fed has begun aggressively raising interest rates in the hope of dampening the economy, including the housing market, to bring down prices. While there are already signs that higher mortgage rates have led to a cooling-off in home sales, economists say it will take much longer for that slowdown to trickle down to the rental industry.
Experts say that about 20 percent of people without a home are considered chronically homeless and living on the streets or in shelters. The vast majority lack a permanent address but are patching together living arrangements however they can.
“Once you’re out of housing, even if you’re living in your own car, you’ve already fallen off the cliff,” said Greif of Johns Hopkins. “You don’t have a permanent address or a bed or a place to shower anymore, and that makes everything else harder. All of the basics in life start to disappear.”
Most people experiencing homelessness are able to find housing within a year, she said. But even then, being displaced, however briefly, can easily trigger other major setbacks, such as job loss and long-term financial uncertainty.
English, the laid-off project manager evicted in Sacramento, found a new administrative job at a construction company. But she was often late to work and distracted because of her living situation. When she finally told her boss she had been sleeping in her car, he gave her a $6,000 advance to cover a deposit on a new apartment. On Saturday, she and her family moved into a three-bedroom rental that costs $2,500 a month.
Even so, things have been difficult. She has depleted her savings and stocks, and she doesn’t get her next paycheck until Tuesday. In the meantime she’s been bouncing checks to fill up her gas tank. Her checking account is overdrawn by $436.
“I thought everything would be fine once I got housed, but it’s not,” she said. “I’m depressed. ...We are literally starting over from scratch.”
In Springfield, Mo., Jordan Evans and her husband have been living in their 2012 Honda CRV after being evicted on June 7. They sleep in a Home Depot parking lot.
Evans applied to move into a studio where the rent is $800 a month. Rents in the area rose 9 percent since the pandemic began, according to CoStar Group data. But even if they hear back, they can’t afford it. Evans has worked a handful of retail and housekeeping jobs since the pandemic, but fear of getting sick and cutback hours have slashed her income. She and her husband, who has a type 1 diabetes, shop at Walmart for groceries that can withstand the 90-degree heat: bagels, bags of chips, tuna packets. McDonalds or Taco Bell are options “if we can afford it,” Jordan said. They can’t justify paying $158 for window coverings, which means she sometimes wakes up to people peering into the car.
“Some apartments have gone up by $20 [per month], some by $150,” she said. “It’s really hard to find an apartment just in Missouri in general. And in the 20 days we’ve been living in our car, we’ve noticed so many other people living out of their cars, as well.”
Friday was Evans’s 23rd birthday. She traveled to Arkansas to be with her sister — and avoid spending a 24th night in her car.