TITLE An ethnography about homelessness in Michigan

AUTHOR John Girdwood Michigan State University

ABSTRACT As inequality increases throughout America, the most destitute class of individuals remains lacking upward mobility. The purpose of this study is to gain a clear firsthand understanding of the consequences of rising inequality in Michigan communities, with emphasis on college towns and deindustrialized cities. I produce grounded theory based upon the collective experience of the subjects rather than testing hypotheses with statistical data. Homeless individuals simultaneously portray dual identities, ascribed and enacted. The best way to understand how the homeless community intersects with the public is to become embedded in both cultures. Because they are socially ostracized from the general public, homeless people are perhaps one of the most stereotyped and stigmatized groups in America. Even when homeless individuals are seen in public spaces, their distinction as homeless evokes certain preconceived notions about their (i) financial standing; (ii) alternative options; and (iii) lifestyle choices. Data from a three-year ethnography is analyzed along with casual interviews and visual ethnographic data to build a mixed methods approach to explore the phenomenon of homelessness. I suggest that more emphasis be placed on qualitative research when studying the social problem of homelessness in America.

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Approaches to studying the social problem of homelessness range from broad

demographic analyses to idiosyncratic relationships between the homeless and the public. From

the statistical tables of DuBois (1899) to Anderson and the ethnographic work of the Chicago

School (1923), scholars have studied the lowest class of individuals through different lenses. I

argue that too much emphasis on quantitative analyses overlooks the real life experiences of

homeless people. Social measures such as census data and unemployment rates ignore the

important day-to-day interactions between the homeless and institutional support. While macro-

level descriptions of the homeless problem are important, I suggest those studies leave gaps that

can be supplemented by additional micro-level ethnographic work.

The first step to eliminating this social problem is to acknowledge there are innumerable

causes, categories, and pathways into and out of homelessness. The experience of being

homeless differs based on many factors like family status, physical, and mental health. In many

cases, homeless individuals experience life as a “deviant other” in need of social support. The

most basic categories used in homeless reporting include: unsheltered, families, chronically

homeless, veterans, and at-risk individuals. Each of these groups are counted and trends are

measured. There is nothing inherently wrong about reporting numbers. I argue that the

emphasis is too heavy on quantitative data used to explain the homeless experience.

To better understand the homeless experience, I examine the causes, consequences, and

categories of homelessness primarily using ethnographic methods. I dissect and critique the

established research on homelessness focusing on the gaps that have resulted in perpetuating and

exacerbating the problem. Finally, I propose new categories and emphasize the need for more

qualitative research on homelessness. It is important to provide a fresh examination of

homelessness because the current policies to reduce homelessness are ineffective.

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Literature Review

A fundamental problem of categorically grouping the “homeless” together is that the

label instantly ascribes deviance to the identity of an individual who may otherwise receive

sympathy. For example, “veterans” are celebrated as heroes and memorialized on many

American holidays throughout the year while “homeless veterans” might be perceived as those

unfortunate individuals who developed mental illness as a result of traumatic life experiences.

Veterans are given parades of recognition through city streets while homeless veterans are

passed daily by civilians who misconstrue disabilities as laziness. Grouping all homeless

individuals into one category for study is inappropriate.

Labeling the homeless has been a common practice for over a century in America. The

term “tramp” was a label originally used in reference to the short excursions of soldiers and then

it evolved into a label for the vagrants who were “bumming” around the integrated camps. The

term “bummer” was used as a colloquial moniker that the New York Times used to label

vagrants after the Civil War (“The New-York Bummers,” 1868). Continuing into the 1870s,

“bumming” encompassed the description of vagrants who slept outside as well as railroad

strikers. “Bums” were more than just a collection of out-of-work vagrants. I argue that labeling

individuals as deviants further damages their social status.

Labelling the homeless as “drunk” is a common stereotypic identity historically rooted in

truth (Parsell, 2011). Anderson (1923) describes beggars who are “rum-dum” drunk and

panhandle until they sober up. If alcoholism is his only malady, the homeless man can

potentially become sober. Although Snow et al. (1986) suggest deinstitutionalized individuals

are “presumed too impaired to seek employment,” Warner (1989) explains how rehabilitative

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programs return workers to a deflated labor market. Despite that unique potential for

rehabilitation, the homeless often share a common quality with criminals: mental illness.

In recent decades, homeless individuals have been called “invisible” by academics and

charitable efforts alike (Hoover & Carter, 1991; New York City Rescue Mission, 2014; Ropers,

1988; Song, 2006; Wiltz, 2014). There are several reasons in the literature that explain why the

homeless experience might be hidden in America. Merton (1938) says those individuals not

properly oriented to society become “fictional.” Such marginalization is the result of intense

social pressures. Goffman (1959) explains that deviants like mental patients and homeless

individuals fail to become visible others until they are physically placed within the institution.

Once institutionalized, the deviant must behave as expected, acting within the parameters of the

ascribed identity he has become (Goffman, 1963). Numerical categorizations of homeless

populations simply do not encapsulate this analysis of the homeless experience.

Current popular categorizations align with current policies to address the homeless

problem. Some of the goals of these policies are to return the individuals to permanent housing

(e.g. Section 8). Other policies address the pathways to homelessness like mental illness (e.g.

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) or seek to provide assistance for

large subpopulations like veterans (e.g. Department of Veterans Affairs). Both the Runaway and

Homeless Youth Act (RHYA) and HUD’s McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Grants focus

on children and homeless families. From a distance, it seems logical to categorize over a half

million homeless individuals into groups and initiate programs to help pull those groups out of

extreme poverty. Yet, the categorical approach has not yet eliminated the problem.

On the surface, subpopulations seem appropriately grouped (sheltered/rough, families,

chronic, veterans, youth, mentally ill, etc.) but scholars agree that these groups are not clearly

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definable (Snow, Baker, Anderson, & Martin, 1986; Warner, 1989). Due to the ineffectiveness

of historical categorizations of the homeless, I propose a reclassification for future study.

The basic premise of my proposed new approach to studying homelessness is to

reclassify the homeless as underserved, almost removing the stigma of failure completely.

Focusing on subgroups is not a new idea (Breakey & Fischer, 1990). Even quantitative survey

data has produced new categorization schemas (Grigsby, Baumann, Gregorich, & Roberts-Gray,

1990). For example, the homeless have been labeled as: (i) recently dislocated; (ii) vulnerable;

(iii) outsiders; and (iv) prolonged. These groups have the following characteristics.

Figure 1. Characteristics of Homeless Types

Recently Dislocated Vulnerable Outsiders Prolonged

Duration Minimal Moderate Moderate Severe

Social Networks Small Extremely Small Large Small

Mental Health and Dysfunction Mild/Minimal Severe Mild/Minimal Moderate

(Grigsby, Baumann, Gregorich, & Roberts-Gray, 1990)

Even when grouping like this, based on certain characteristics, each individual has a

completely unique experience that is different from all the rest in his category. This is a sound

argument, that every individual has a history and distinct worldview socially constructed over his

lifetime. Qualitative scholars have shown this variability of experience in many ways.

Visual ethnography, for example, is a qualitative method that originated from studies of

tenements (Riis & York, 1901) and labor (Hine & House, 1932). When professing to show

“conditions of the group,” Harper (2006) and other visual sociologists avoid pigeonholing the

homeless into a discrete set of categories.

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A common public perception is that individuals choose to be homeless. Yet, even

disadvantaged individuals make intricate choices within their lives that are distinct from others in

their predicament (Parsell & Parsell, 2012). These individuals in the “outsiders” category do not

represent the entire “homeless” population. Yet, public perception is sometimes concentrated on

that single quality – lack of housing. This perception may be accurate for the outsiders. These

individuals either choose to sleep rough or they have made choices throughout their lives that

have produced the condition of homelessness. Again, this does not explain the entirety of the

homeless experience and “choice” is perhaps not even the predominant pathway to

homelessness.

When perception is validated, even just once, public consensus can develop out of

perception. This is the case when the “outsiders” represent what it means to be “homeless.” The

social problem becomes “homelessness” and the solution is simply to “house” those people.

Explained through Public Arenas Theory, legislators and civilians begin to exclude other social

issues from public concern. Many social issues start to symbolically compete against other

issues for resources (Hilgartner & Bosk, 1988; Lee, Lewis, & Jones, 1992). Singling out a

perceived social problem often fails to solve the collection of issues that truly exist.

I propose a comprehensive set of analyses that address multiple conditions of

disadvantage. Social networks, mental health, low wages, and fewer opportunities to work are

components of the homeless experience. Lack of affordable housing and crime also manifest

within environments of extreme poverty. The “housing first” approach seeks to address an

underlying problem that will, in turn, fix many of the derivative social issues that circulate within

the homeless experience. Such policies address the antecedents of homelessness. Housing is

just one element of homelessness, a single variable of disadvantage.

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The primary categorical label put on the homeless is the description of residence. Both

acute and chronically homeless individuals either stay in the shelter or elsewhere. “Unsheltered”

does not necessarily mean “in the street.” However, the government offers three examples of

unsheltered space: under bridges, in cars, or in abandoned buildings (U.S. Department of &

Housing and Urban Development, 2013). There is no mention of “couch surfing” or staying

with friends anywhere in the report.

It would be very difficult to measure the number of individuals staying with friends on

any given night and it would be even more challenging to categorize couch-surfers as homeless.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development Annual Homeless Assessment Report to

Congress (2013) avoids that difficulty by excluding those types of individuals from its sample.

The data was also strategically collected during mid-January, as it is a cold month that requires

many transient individuals in the northern United States to seek shelter.

While the rates of homelessness by state are descriptive, those numbers do not convey

any trends standing alone. The homeless census is only a starting point. A variety of

demographic characteristics may shed more light on who is migrating where. For example, if

there is more opportunity for physical day labor in California, perhaps more homeless men move

there to look for jobs. If there are hospitality (janitorial) or nanny jobs more prevalent in New

York, then maybe the homeless population of females is higher in that state. Both of these

examples assume that those individuals are interested in jobs. Census data is only as good as the

variety of categories that are measured and is supported by other methods like interviews or

ethnography.

Chronic and acute homelessness are distinguished as separate categories. A chronically

homeless individual is “an unaccompanied individual with a disability who has either been

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continuously homeless for 1 year or more or has experienced at least four episodes of

homelessness in the last 3 years” (U.S. Department of & Housing and Urban Development,

2013). Acute homelessness is simply a period of homelessness lasting less than 1 year. Each is

a separate and unique phenomenon. Generalized categorical distinctions are also provided.

Figure 2. General categorical distinctions used in reporting on the homeless

AHAR Distinctions Chronic/Acute: Chronically Homeless Individual refers to an unaccompanied individual with a disability who has either been continuously homeless for 1 year or more or has experienced at least four episodes of homelessness in the last 3 years.

Sheltered/Unsheltered Unsheltered Homeless People include people with a primary nighttime residence that is a public or private place not designed for or ordinarily used as a regular sleeping accommodation for human beings, including a car, park, abandoned building, bus or train station, airport, or camping ground.

Family/Single People in Families are people who are homeless as part of households that have at least one adult and one child.

Veteran/Civilian Veterans are those with some amount of U.S. military service

Demographic Categories Age Under 18 18–30 years 31–60 years Over 60 years

Gender Male Female

Race White Black Other

Education 8 years or less Some high school High School graduate including GED Post high school

Sources: (The Ten-­Year Plan to End Chronic Homelessness Task Force, 2005;; U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, 2013)

It is important to note that the “Other” racial category is not commonly acceptable and

does not adhere to the United States Census categories which are: White, Black or African

American, American Indian or Alaska Native, Asian, and Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific

Islander (United States Census Bureau, 2013). I included the more basic category of “Other” for

two reasons.

First, it comes from data presented in a recent report created by a task force involving

members of academic, governmental, secular, and religious institutions (The Ten-Year Plan to

End Chronic Homelessness Task Force, 2005). Second, the categories represent my own

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experience as an embedded observer. I saw individuals who looked white, black, and other but I

did not have a chance to ask every person, even those appearing to be white and black, what his

or her race or ethnicity was. Since this study is based on visual observation, simpler categories

are appropriate and there is precedence even found in quantitative studies like those cited.

Methods

There are four phases to this research: (i) observations and interviews of can collectors;

(ii) embedded ethnography of a homeless shelter; (iii) a survey of college students about their

perceptions of the homeless condition; and (iv) casual interviews with those who experience and

serve the homeless. The purpose of each stage is described in Figure 3.

Figure 3. Phases of Research

Phase 1 Phase 2 Phase 3 Phase 4

Met

hod

Observation Embedded and Visual Ethnography Survey Casual Interviews

Ven

ue

College Campus Homeless Shelter College Classrooms Public Places

Subj

ects

Can Collectors Homeless Individuals College Students (Civilians)

Homeless Individuals, Civilians, and Service

Workers

Dat

a Field Notes, Audio, Video, and

Photographs

Field Notes and Photographs Quantitative Audio and Video

Recordings

IRB Approval: (Phase 1: IRB# x13-­797e/ APP# i044299;; Phases 2 and 4: IRB# 13-­1267/ APP# i045226;; Phase 3: IRB# x15-­187e/ APP# i048131)

Very little data was obtained regarding duration of homelessness but this collection of

methods was useful in measuring social networks, mental health, and dysfunction. Of course, no

clinical diagnoses were recorded for mental health condition but several individuals openly

talked about their medications and psychiatric treatment within the homeless shelter. I did not

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record specific details about professed diagnoses because it is neither relevant to this study nor is

it appropriate due to maintaining the confidentiality of subjects. I grouped mental and physical

disabilities together because both may put the individual at a disadvantage when seeking

employment (especially if diagnoses are not properly treated). Also, the AHAR definition of a

“chronically homeless person” includes reference to disability. Both types of disabilities are also

stigmatized, although each can be distinctly hidden. While there are limitations to utilizing

qualitative methods, those limitations minimally affected the objective of this research – to gain

a clear firsthand understanding of the homeless experience in Michigan communities.

The embedded ethnography at a Michigan homeless shelter provided me access to

institutionalized homeless individuals as well as their social networks and other types of

homeless people. For example, I left the shelter each morning and proceeded to eat breakfast at

a local church. There were many individuals who ate breakfast at the church who did not stay

overnight at the shelter. The shelter I stayed at did not house children so I recorded very limited

data on homeless children. Some comments were made regarding families and children during

Phase 1 interviews and I visited a shelter for children during Phase 2 but this was not a focus of

the study. The important point to note is that women and children are frequently housed in a

different place than the general population. In fact, the shelter for women and children that I

toured had security cameras, locked premises, and guards on duty. It also offered a hangout for

local police to come and drink coffee while on their shift. The administrator informed me that

the hangout was not frequented by police as often as planned. Police came to the shelter that I

slept at but were only present during emergencies. The police were part of the social network for

shelter staff.

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Ethnography provides observable data so veteran status was not verifiable. For example,

a man wearing VFW logoed clothing and fatigues is not necessarily a veteran. However, there

were points during my stay in the shelter that I witnessed men clearly exhibiting post traumatic

stress episodes. I assumed these were caused by combat memories since the men mentioned

battle-type jargon during the episodes. Qualitative data is quite different than categorical

grouping and provides an alternative representation of the homeless experience.

The college student survey was useful in gauging the public perceptions about some of

the realities that I experienced while embedded in the shelter. The perceptions were often

incredibly incorrect. For example, the students were shown a set of three photographs and asked

“Where do you think the pictures on this page were taken?” The choices included four of the top

twenty-five populated cities in the State of Michigan. Most of the students thought the pictures

of homeless people were taken in Detroit (40%) while the correct answer received the fewest

number responses. Although the survey was not the primary method conducted in this study, it

provided evidence of the assumptions and misunderstanding that civilians have of the homeless

experience in Michigan. The survey response data supported the argument that such a

qualitative study is useful and needed regarding the social problem of homelessness.

This research will benefit from continuity of interviews and further ethnography in order

to produce longitudinal and comprehensive understanding of the homeless experience of

individuals in these Michigan communities. Two years and four methods were sufficient for an

initial study but the discussion should be continued and supplemented by further qualitative

research. A longitudinal study would be appropriate to document the process through which

homeless people receive housing and then their lifestyle after they become housed, i.e. if their

social networks, income, habits, or behaviors change.

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Becoming Aware of the Homeless in Public

This research is built on grounded theory, a process of generating categories and

properties from evidence that will help illustrate a concept (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). The

strength of using grounded theory in this particularly study is that it avoids initial researcher

subjective bias. I did not begin the study with the purpose of analyzing the behavior of homeless

individuals. Absent that premise, I argue that my research methods are more objective. I began

by observing can collectors on the campus of a Michigan university. Through these informal

interviews and observations, I was able to categorize certain participants as homeless. More

importantly, I was able to generate themes about the perceptions of can collectors and homeless

individuals.

Several interviewees used terms like “bums” and “homeless” to describe the can

collectors and differentiate themselves from the distinctly deviant out-group. This respondent

was a can collector and, unprompted, said that he was “not homeless” as the others were.

Interviewer: It’s sociology. Do you know what sociology is?

Can Man: (avoids answering question) Yeah, a lot of people are starting to get into (can collecting) because of the way that the economy is it’s hard to make any type of money. I’m not homeless but I do it because it’s extra money on the weekends. On the weekend you can make pretty good money though like I said.

A common perception about the homeless is that they are a nuisance, e.g. individuals

who destroy public parks and drive customers away from local businesses (Knecht & Martinez,

2009). Examples of other nuisance subgroups include homeless criminals and freeloaders,

respectively. Nuisance identities tend to describe deviants and members of the out-group. It is

important to note that such an ascribed identity does not necessarily originate from the

perspective of the interviewee. This respondent was a civilian partying in a public space:

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Tailgater 1: Okay, so our landlord for our house sent us this letter that was like, okay all of the can men that the police have interviewed have criminal records and all this stuff.

Interviewer: Really?

Tailgater 1: Yeah, which is, I think is ridiculous. I think they’re all nice. I’ve never felt threatened by a can person.

The interviewee believes that can collectors are not all criminals. In fact, he is somewhat

offended that his landlord would even suggest the notion. Another member of this group of

young adult white males substantiates the claim that can collectors provide a service as public

custodians.

Interviewer: Has anyone felt threatened by a can person?

Tailgater 2: I’ll tell you what, I live in Chicago and my neighborhood, I live by Wrigley Field, it’s called “Wrigley Ville” destroyed by fucking beer and whatever, beer cans and everything. Right. I would appreciate if we had can people in Chicago because they’d clean up the neighborhood.

The men from Chicago felt unable to participate in a functional system because there is

no deposit in Illinois. I spoke with individuals from Ohio, Illinois, and Michigan during the

tailgate weekends. Those from Michigan, or who had lived in Michigan for some time, generally

knew about the 10 cent deposit and mentioned it several times during interviews. Respondents

from Ohio were less likely to know about the deposit system in Michigan. The knowledge of a

10 cent deposit initiated a cost/benefit calculation for certain respondents.

Tailgater: It’s like why bother carrying it (empty beer can) on my person and worrying about it when I don’t care about the 60 cents on a 6-pack but there’s a guy over here making however much he is making just picking it up.

Perhaps the most frequent question that civilians have of the can collectors is “How much

money do they make?” During the course of each day on campus, I overheard passersby

acknowledging the can collectors and discussing this topic. Of course, an entire study could be

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devoted to the economy of can collecting. To address this subtopic of the homeless experience, I

asked several of the can collectors how much they made per day. Estimates ranged from a

couple dollars to several hundreds of dollars. The amount depended mostly on the motivation of

the can collector. Those seeking to buy a beer or enjoy the weather outside sought nominal

financial gains. Others, many of whom said they were not homeless, worked in teams and

performed systematic roles in concert to maximize their collective haul. One can man informed

me that parking and fuel are sunk costs. It had not occurred to me that collecting cans could be

measured on a balance sheet. Because the amounts varied so widely, it is not relevant to report

precise figures other than to say it ranged from $5 to $500 and averaged about $250 per eight-

hour day.

In another college town, I encountered dozens of homeless individuals begging in the

streets. I took hundreds of photographs of both the college campuses and surrounding towns.

The two images in Figure 4b were taken in 2014 and represent a street performer and a disabled

woman; both individuals had signs indicating they were homeless and plastic jar receptacles to

receive donations. Although I did not ask them how much they earned per day, I surveyed 96

college students to measure what a passerby might guess they made. Responses are included in

Figure 4b. Respondents believed that the street performer makes more money than the homeless

woman with a cane. Respondents also were more likely to believe that the woman was

homeless, not the male street performer. These responses were similar to my observations of the

can collectors interacting with tailgaters on the college campus. Tailgaters regularly referred to

each individual collector as a “can man” or “bum” but few called the can men “homeless.”

A sign, symbol, or prior knowledge contributes to the perceived identity of the street

beggars and can collectors as “homeless” by civilians. In Figure 4b, both individuals have signs

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but the woman whose sign says “homeless” is more likely to be perceived as homeless by a

college student. I interview a police officer who told me that “a lot of the guys that come here,

they’re the people that, same people you see in the city on the weekdays and they’ll be at like

the, like around the missions or the VOAs or just sleeping in the parks and they have the same

little set-ups where they… they all have some sort of cart that they bring… they’ll steal them

from (the grocery store)… They’ve got, definitely got a system where they bring more people

with them. They got, some people have like their kids.” The police officer knew some of the

can collectors were homeless because he saw them on his patrol during the week.

Figure 4a. Photos of can collectors on a college campus (2013)

A single woman using a grocery cart as a tool; with observing onlookers

Three men work as a team to maximize profits; each bag is generally $50 worth of cans

The can collectors utilized a variety of tools and tactics. Some worked in groups to

maximize the daily haul. Some used carts to collect loose cans while others tied multiple bags to

the sides of the cart. One man used a picker-type grabber so he did not have to lean over. He did

not want others to see him use it and steal his idea. When it rained, several men stood under

trees that provided a natural canopy in order to stay dry.

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I was only able to follow one man and his two teammates to the local grocery store to

cash in their cans. He drove a beat up car roughly five miles to the store. His drop off location

was farther than the closest grocery store. I assume many of those using carts simply walked 1.7

miles to the nearest grocery store and returned their carts when finished. It was odd to hear the

police man say they “stole” the carts. In fact, they only temporarily borrowed the carts.

The street performers and street beggars in the other town also used tools and tactics.

The most common tool was the plastic milk crate followed closely by the cardboard sign and

then the plastic jug receptacle for donations.

Figure 4b. Survey of college students based on photographs of homeless people

Looking at the wo/man in the picture above, how much money do you think s/he makes begging in one 8 hour day?

MAN playing guitar

WOMAN with sign

$10 26.0% (25) 45.3% (43) $50 39.6% (38) 31.6% (30) $100 22.9% (22) 11.6% (11) $250 7.3% (7) 3.2% (3) $500 0.0% (0) 4.2% (4) More than $500 in an 8 hour day 4.2% (4) 4.2% (4) Looking at the wo/man in the picture above, how likely is s/he to be homeless?

Yes, s/he is most likely homeless 4.2% (4) 56.4% (53) Maybe s/he is homeless 88.5% (85) 42.6% (40) No, s/he is not homeless 7.3% (7) 1.1% (1)

Where n≠96, respondents did not answer the question. IRB Approval: (Phase 1: IRB# x13-­797e/ APP# i044299;; Phases 2 and 4: IRB# 13-­1267/ APP# i045226;; Phase 3: IRB# x15-­187e/ APP# i048131)

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Through my observations in a local coffee shop, I saw an individual borrow and return

markers to make a sign right in the open air of the coffee shop. Nearby, I saw a man creating his

sign while sitting on a milk crate in the middle of the busy sidewalk.

The police officer was the first respondent that provided solid evidence that certain can

collectors were homeless, either staying at the city rescue mission or the Volunteers of America

(VOA) shelter. Later that day, I spoke with a can man who shared this with me:

Interviewer: How come you don’t grab a cart at (the grocery store) and wheel it down here?

Can Man 2: Eh, I don’t wanna… That’s kinda stealing.

Interviewer: Uh…

Can Man 2: And, I don’t steal.

Interviewer: Okay, um, and how much uh, money overall do you think you’re gonna make today?

Can Man 2: Oh, probably about fifteen bucks, so…

Interviewer: Fifteen overall?

Can Man 2: I hear a lot of people bragging about making a hundred or so, you know.

Interviewer: Okay, uh, where did you like hear… you say that you hear people bragging. Where do you… do you see them around here? Do you know them from before? Or…

Can Man 2: Oh… I’m staying at the (city rescue mission) and a lot of the guys there come out here on a game day and they’ll, tonight, they’ll be bragging about how much they made.

Interviewer: Yeah, um… And, is this a big source of income for you… is it just spare change, or…

Can Man 2: Oh, it’s, it’s a nice source of income but I tell you what, I love this campus and when I’m out here doing this, I pick up trash and put it in the trash can because it’s such a beautiful campus, I want to do everything I can to help it stay beautiful.

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This man was very optimistic, open, and pleasant. He continued to tell me his life story

after this exchange and I gladly listened but three things stood out; he was: (i) emphatically

against stealing, i.e. had a moral compass; (ii) not ashamed to divulge he was homeless; and (iii)

happy to be working to beautify the campus. There were several types of can men that I

encountered during this study including a set of single men that fit this profile. To learn more

about his experience at the city rescue mission, I interviewed its executive director.

The executive director of the city rescue mission gave me a tour of the facility and

explained that residents are required to contribute to the greater good of society in order to

remain sheltered. Some men performed chores at the mission, e.g. swept floors or worked in the

kitchen. Other men had paying jobs outside of the mission. And, when paid work and chores

were not available, residents could go into the community and volunteer for an organization or

individually. I was surprised that some of the can collectors on the college campus were doing

the work as a requirement to remain housed at a homeless rescue mission.

To determine if this was a common practice elsewhere, I went to a more populated urban

city and spoke to an operations manager of a homeless center. The venue was starkly different.

When I arrived, there were dozens of loiterers outside even though it was well below freezing in

the middle of winter. The facility looked like a boarded up warehouse with no windows.

Without a sign atop the building, I would not have entered because it did not appear to be

anything more than a former automotive garage. I walked in confidently through a door without

a sign or window.

To my right was a 3’ x 10’ Plexiglas window. There were about 5 or 6 black individuals

in the hallway and maybe two individuals behind the glass. I recall they were all male except

maybe one female behind the glass. As the door shut behind me, there was some commotion and

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hollering. One male appeared to be a leader or a staff member. I just kept walking forward

through the men down the 15’ hallway. I think I nodded and raised my hand in a wave at a

person of authority.

I went through another door. As I looked up, I felt my first shock as to where I was. This

was the main room. In front of me were about 150 black men sitting in chairs facing forward. It

was not silent. I did not interrupt anything and it was not like a record needle screeched when I

walked in. I felt very comfortable. I felt no strange resentful stares. I looked to my left and

there was some type of check-in table with maybe two staff members, although it was very

difficult to distinguish staff from residents at first.

As I focused forward, I saw a metal detector. This is when I went into another mode of

confidence and looked for staff to nod to and heard one staff say to another “He’s here for Mr.

Jackson” (pseudonym). I nodded again. Someone must have motioned me forward. I walked

through the metal detector and it beeped. I knew I had metal keys in my pockets. My recent

involvement with metal detectors was at courthouses and I even took my lip balm out of my

pockets then because I am extremely frightened of authority and cops. Here, I felt confident and

almost like I was the authority, perhaps due to a sense of white privilege. I did not look like a

resident so I was treated differently. I do not look like a cop so nobody was turned off. When

the metal detector buzzed, nobody did anything. I kept walking and was instructed to move

toward a door that I later discovered was the entryway to Mr. Jackson’s office.

I asked him about the efficacy of the metal detectors. He said they were a sufficient

deterrent. I followed-up with a question about what the metal detectors deterred. He replied,

“You know what…” and got out of his chair to search for something in a crevasse behind a filing

cabinet near his desk. He pulled out the most frightening dagger (sword) I have ever seen. It

20

had two curves in it and was about two feet long. It was probably made of steel and had a

handle. There was a sharp point for stabbing, a sharp blade for cutting, and serrated edges for

carnage. It was extremely scary. I could envision what using that weapon would do to human

flesh. It seemed to me like that weapon could take out all 150 individuals at the center unless

someone was armed with a gun. I wondered whether Mr. Jackson had a concealed weapon but

did not ask. He did not appear to have a bulletproof vest on. Nothing bulged beneath his sharp

three-piece suit.

I asked him about the staff members’ risk of harm. He indicated a staff member was

murdered about eight years prior when a female resident thought he was her ex-husband.

Something triggered her post traumatic stress disorder. Mr. Jackson said that PTSD was

prevalent. Mr. Jackson expressed frustration that mental illness is not viewed the same as

physical illness.

I pressed Mr. Jackson on the “distinction” between the can collectors, panhandlers and

individuals who seek informal labor like passing out handbills. Mr. Jackson said the handbill

circuit paid in crack cocaine. When I asked about the drug addictions of others, Mr. Jackson did

not hesitate in replying “heroin” in regard to the panhandlers. “And, what about the can

collectors?” “Alcohol and crack. The scrappers are crack and the prostitutes are crack.”

Figure 5. Categories of work performed by the homeless

Labor Formality Licit/Illicit Legality Payment/Drug Handbills Informal Licit Legal Cash or Crack

Can Dogging Informal Licit Legal Cash / Crack / Alcohol Panhandling Informal Licit Legal Cash / Heroin Scrapping Formal Licit Both Cash / Crack

Prostitution Informal Illicit Illegal Cash or Crack (2013-2014)

21

The following winter, I went to a soup kitchen on a Friday morning during homeless

count week. I saw several individuals get into a van that had a religious slogan printed on the

side of it. There was more than one unmarked van in the parking lot as early as 7am. I

interviewed some of the men standing around.

Investigator: (starts audio recording) We talked a little bit already… and, so you mentioned “preying” and you mentioned “hand bills” and you mentioned what you’re doing… but, I hope this snow plow goes away… (Subject 1 laughs) There was about 12 of you here. Where did they go and how come you didn’t go with them?

Subject 1: Well, I’m trying to go to work, for one, get on a hand billing truck. But, most of them go to another church that’s open up there… that way you can get a meal and everything like that.

Interviewer: So, they come here first?

Subject 1: Yeah, usually (the soup kitchen) opens every day except Thursday and Sunday and they open about 730. They’ll start feeding people and stuff and you can get warm and you know, pretty much get a free meal and stuff, stay warm ‘till about 11… 12… I think they kick you out.

Interviewer: People stay here that long?

Subject 1: Yeah, yeah.

Interviewer: Do they come here first for the work or for the meal?

Subject 1: For the meal. Nobody comes here for work (inaudible) handful of people that want to come here for work.

Interviewer: Where are the better places to go to work?

Subject 1: I have no clue (laughs).

Interviewer: You wish you knew, right?

Subject 1: Yep (laughs). I wish, I wish I did know.

22

There were three men in this group and I assessed them individually as (1) coherent; (2)

cognitively impaired; and (3) on drugs. Subjects 1 and 2 seemed to be waiting for a specific

truck although I never confirmed if they were actually hired for the day.

Subject 1: Hopefully, until that truck comes and then I’m hopping in there and going make a few bucks. Five bucks an hour isn’t much though man.

Subject 3: Not really.

Subject 1: That’s what they pay.

Interviewer: 5 an hour.

Subject 1: Yeah, and then you work, you know, 5 or 6 hours, it’s like… walking.

Subject 3: They’re a bunch of slave drivers.

Interviewer: Yep.

Subject 1: Pretty much but you know it’s what can you do because you need the money.

When Subject 3 became belligerent, Subject 1 asked me if I wanted to walk away and

talk elsewhere. We moved several yards away out of earshot and continued.

Subject 1: Most of them, like… you want to walk or whatever? Most of, like, I mean… it’s, eh… I don’t know man, like if I had a check, I wouldn’t be here for one. Most of these guys… like the Hotel… it’s up here…

Interviewer: Uh, huh.

Subject 1: First of the month, like right now, there’s a couple guys they’re probably all dressed up, in like, in their 3-piece suit and then 2 days later they’re broke.

Interviewer: Yeah.

Subject 1: And, it’s like, they get a check from the government man and they pay their rent for the month and then they’re broke. Because they spend it all on drugs and everything like that and it’s just like fuck. Why can’t I get a check? You know, and I got a disability, too, I broke my back in 2009. And, I got knee problems, back problems, all

23

sorts of crap. I can’t get a check. Keep fighting because it’s like I end up, I end up not having a place to stay where I can get mail.

Subject 1 fit right into the working categories that I drafted (Figure 5) prior to meeting

him. He either wanted cash, crack, or both. Subject 1 stressed the money but his buddy (Subject

3) seemed to prioritize the drug. The conversation eventually included mention of scrapping.

Subject 1: And then, do you know like, a lot of these guys, you know like some of them you know all they do is they just scrap. They’ll go into buildings break into these you know abandoned buildings and take you know copper wire whatever they can they can scrap out of and shit you know and that’s you know what are they gonna do when all that’s gone

Interviewer: Yeah, when it’s gone, yeah

Subject 1: Yeah, because it’s pretty much gone now

Interviewer: Do they get any grief from the people that uh pay them out

Subject 1: Now, well now they passed that new law that if you get copper anything copper you have to wait three days for a check to come to your you know they congress passed the new law and stuff so you have to wait three days for a check and you gotta have valid ID

At no point during the conversation did I get the impression I was being lied to. There

was no incentive for Subject 1 to lie to me. He appeared eager to tell his story which involved

several hardships.

Subject 1: …There’s nothing out there (in the suburbs). Nothing out there at all; there’s no shelters… the only other, there’s a rotating shelter, um, in (nearby suburb). But, they’re pretty much full. Everything else is the only, anything, is (the city). There’s nothing in the suburbs whatsoever for I mean pretty much anything to even help you. You know, you go to DHS and that’s a run around and stuff you know uh last time I applied for a Bridge Card, I got it for a month and then they cut me off. Then, the lady wouldn’t answer the phone for like 10 days.

The rotating shelter was a new concept for me so I interviewed an administrator at that

location. The administrator confirmed that the shelter turned away dozens, if not hundreds, of

individuals each day. The comment Subject 1 made about his Bridge Card (food stamps and

24

cash assistance public benefits) is a scenario I encountered many times when I worked with

impoverished individuals.

The two years I spent becoming aware of the homeless in public, combined with my

survey of college students, formed a substantial foundation of knowledge for my entry into the

homeless shelter during the Spring of 2014. I stayed in what many consider the finest shelter in

the State of Michigan. It was pleasant and accommodating for my study. After speaking to the

director of operations for clearance, I began my embedded ethnography at the homeless shelter

in the third town/city of this study.

Living in the Homeless Shelter System

I stayed in the shelter off and on during March 2014. The director of operations told me

what to do, how to navigate the system, and recommended that I “eat, sleep, and shower” with

the individuals to get the purest data. His advice aligned with my intent. I ate and slept in the

shelter for a little over one month. Showers were offered each night but I did not take advantage

of that amenity because it was an individual shower and I would not take any field notes or have

any interactions with individuals in the shower so it seemed pointless for the study. I also

realized that it would not increase my credibility with the residents. Perhaps if I was on a longer

term 6-month plan living upstairs, I might have showered with the group but I stayed in the

“emergency shelter” of transients and one-night residents. Only about ten or twelve of the

dozens of individuals showered each night. It was not the norm for this group.

As I walked in to the shelter for the first time at 10am, the front desk receptionist told me

I could get a bed for one month. This is called an emergency. It takes six weeks for placement

into a permanent bed and that creates a two-week gap where I would be without any bed from

about April 6 to April 20 (Easter Sunday). And, that would be the least amount of time that I

25

would be without a bed if I put my name on the list immediately. From this introduction to the

shelter, I felt like I was being told I was “screwed” for lack of a better term. However, this

would be the only time I did not feel like I was being helped and given sympathy. Perhaps the

receptionist was frustrated about a two-week gap during which she could do nothing for me.

The receptionist told me to call “Housing Access.” It was an automated answering

machine with options for domestic violence, veterans, and youth. I was none of those so I just

waited to speak with an operator. I participated in a short intake screening and was told it was

for the Homeless Management Information System (HMIS). The operator, a young woman,

asked for my permission to enter data into that system. Then, she asked for my date of birth,

name, and last four digits of my social security number. I willingly gave all this information to

her. Later, I learned that this particular county consolidates its services for the homeless. This is

why the county is viewed by some (e.g. the administrator of a shelter in a nearby county) as

having the best, most efficient homeless services in the State of Michigan.

At 1145am, I underwent a one-on-one interview with a female staff member. My picture

was taken on a camera that put my face in a computer system. I presented myself as a couch

surfer which is stretching the truth, although I do not personally own the house I stay in or pay

rent. I displayed no interest in a long term bed or services. She instructed me to return at 830pm

to get in line for a bed.

At noon, I ate in the cafeteria with about 120 other individuals. There was a black man

on his phone, smoking a cigarette on the porch adjacent the lobby. He stormed in loudly after the

receptionist told him to calm down and be quieter because she could not hear the person on the

phone (client) she was talking to. An argument ensued and the receptionist asked the man to

leave. He angrily agreed (did not detest) but cursed as he left. Even though he was leaving and

26

halfway through the door, the receptionist told him that cursing was unacceptable. “Fuck this

shelter,” he said as he left. For some time, I heard faint crying (female) from the stairwell.

Whoever it was, it had to be a permanent resident because temporary folks like me cannot go up

the stairs. This condensed negativity, cursing, and anger was not common during the rest of my

stay in the shelter. It was an unusually negative introduction to the shelter.

During my first lunch, I sat at the table in the front left corner where only one young

black male was sitting. I thought I would either get one-on-one conversation with the man or sit

silently and observe. By the end of lunch, I never spoke a word to him. He rapped most of the

time. He complained twice about the food. I thought the food was good. The beans were hot. I

ate every bean and almost cleaned my entire plate.

I walked 7.62 miles by 4pm. I found the church where I would be eating breakfast the

next morning. It was by chance that I found it. I walked around town and made notes on a

dozen beggars.

Figure 6. Single point-in-time count of street beggars in college town shopping district

(2014)

27

This was an absolute hotbed of licit begging, illegal drug trade, and other illicit informal

work and loitering. I was simply trying to loiter and observe. First, I said “How you doin’?” to a

beggar to indicate I was not someone to ask for money. A black male was aggressively begging,

often cornering people as they walked by. He waved to two Asians through a glass window as

they ate frozen yogurt. They laughed. He was working with an older black man in partnership.

I saw one beggar give the other money out of his cup. The older looking of the two beggars was

more passive and sat behind an overturned cardboard box with a clear plastic cup on top for

donations. The other beggar in this pair was walking up and down the street begging.

An hour later, one of those men approached me. I said, “I’m new” and explained I was

staying at the shelter. This changed everything. The conversation took a turn. “What do you

need?” “I’m all right.” “I’ve got numbers.” I stood idle as the man dug through his pocket. I

saw lint and one loose bill (money). A small blue cigarette lighter fell from his pocket. I did not

budge. Usually, I would bend over to help pick it up. He kept saying he had “numbers.” “He

can get you what you need,” the man told me. “He can get you cocaine,” using very clear

syllables. I replied just as clearly. “Nah man, I’m good.” I walked away. He did not seem

discouraged. In fact, he was pleasant and non-threatening. I was surprised by how nonchalant

the man was. This was not the only time I was asked if I wanted drugs for use or to help sell.

For example:

Subject: Let me holla at you. What you out here doin’?

Researcher: I’m new.

Subject: I got you. We can do this. Not even a handshake. Don’ gotta be stickin’ out like a handshake, man. You got the look like you know what you doin’.

Researcher: Yeah, I’ll be here on weekends.

28

Subject: So, we can do this.

Researcher: Nah, I’m good.

Subject: You good?

Researcher: Yeah.

One of the individuals in Figure 6 was an older white woman, easy to recognize as

someone I had seen at the shelter. She was probably new, like me. I noticed her early in the

morning because she had luggage on wheels and did not appear to be awfully disheveled. She

could have easily been someone that I worked with. I passed her several times on the street and

made eye contact and said “Hello.” I hoped to talk to her later at dinner but never did.

I came back to the shelter at 830pm and waited outside in the cold for 45 minutes. We all

entered civilly into the building and toward the cafeteria door. There are two glass doors, but we

all went toward one. In the cafeteria, there was a folding table or two to the right of the room

with papers on it. There were two bins, one had blankets and one had mats but the bin with mats

was not necessary because the floor was covered with mats already. There was not really any

room for another mat. Each mat was about an inch from the mat beside it. Right away, I knew I

would be sleeping close to another man. Or, maybe I would get lucky and there would be an

empty mat beside me due to the low number of temporary residents tonight. It looked that way,

like I would have an open mat next to me.

That night, the police came and a man was taken out in handcuffs. Another man was

removed for a “trespass” meaning he was banned from the shelter for a prior deviant act. A third

man blew over a .2 blood alcohol content measurement into the Breathalyzer that every resident

was subject to. He voiced his frustration about being asked to leave.

29

The next day, the wake up call was 6am. We had to leave the shelter at 7am and walked

to the “breakfast church” about a mile away. Many shelter and non-shelter residents were there

and they intermingled. If I went back today, a year later, I am certain that I would recognize

dozens of them. My field notes are filled with monikers (nicknames) that I gave each individual

both in and out of the shelter. The finale of my first stay involved me leaving the town as

discretely as possible in my car that was stationed in a parking ramp.

My experience during the first week as “officially” homeless (counted now as a statistic

in the federal count) was representative of many experiences I would have over the course of

several weeks. There were patterns of behavior repeated over and over. There were locations

that the homeless frequented on a regular basis. After the initial excitement of integrating into

the homeless community, my experience was very repetitive and boring after awhile.

Discussion

There are few, if any, mechanisms in place to promote the upward mobility of acutely

homeless individuals. It would have taken me months to be placed in longer term housing, i.e. to

“get a bed” in the shelter. The boredom between hour-long meals at the shelter was almost

unbearable and I can understand why alcohol or drug use might provide an escape from an

otherwise monotonously dull life. During my brief time as an acute homeless individual, I was

offered drugs but no job. I was offered food but no Bridge Card (food stamps). I was given a

one-inch mat on a hard floor to sleep on but no housing. If I did not have a home to return to

after my time in the shelter, I would have probably resorted to the most readily available means

of survival – hand billing, can collecting, scrapping copper, sleeping rough, and building a social

network of downtrodden acquaintances in a similar situation. The amenities in the shelter were

pleasant but I was only in the shelter for meals and sleep.

30

The acute homeless individual is often a capable functioning person who briefly “fell on

hard times” and is homeless for a shorter period of time than someone considered chronically

homeless. For that individual to overcome adversity, he must positively adapt to an otherwise

unfortunate situation. Such resilience has been argued to be a state, trait, or process (Luthar,

Cicchetti, & Becker, 2000). I argue that the adverse conditions of acute homelessness do not

necessarily promote positive adaptation.

Figure 7. The process of coping with the homeless experience

← Self Deficiencies → ← Survival by Repetition →

Obt

ain

know

ledg

e th

roug

h so

cial

ne

twor

k

→

Rec

eive

serv

ices

fr

om in

stitu

tion

Fulfi

ll un

met

nee

ds

usin

g co

nven

ient

so

lutio

n

→ Pa

ttern

beh

avio

r to

cont

inue

surv

ival

Obt

ain

know

ledg

e th

roug

h so

cial

ne

twor

k

→

Rec

eive

serv

ices

fr

om in

stitu

tion

↑ ↓ ↑ ↓ ↑ ↓

Lack

kn

owle

dge

of

optio

ns to

cop

e w

ith

circ

umst

ance

s

Det

erm

ine

wha

t nee

ds a

re

not b

eing

met

by

inst

itutio

n

→

Seek

to m

eet

need

s not

bei

ng

prov

ided

by

the

inst

itutio

n

Rel

y on

the

surv

ival

syst

em

that

has

bee

n es

tabl

ishe

d

→ Lack

kn

owle

dge

of

any

alte

rnat

ive

to c

ope

with

ci

rcum

stan

ces

Out

com

e

← Self Proficiencies → ← Self Deficiencies →

The process of coping with the homeless experience, at least in an acute scenario, is not

likely to produce the outcome of self-sustainability in any normal context. The homeless

individual uses his skills and proficiencies to navigate the experience but, lacking a complete set

of resources, must rely on institutional and social network support. The pattern is repeated and

reliance is learned behavior. Survival tactics only amplify the deficiencies of the individual.

Survival is a lifestyle of maintenance that does not contribute to upward mobility.

31

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