Our Homeless Experience Part 6: The Shelter, Part 1

For most people, the only way they can imagine what a homeless shelter is like is from what media portrays in movies and television shows. Perhaps the odd newscast now and then.

I had no idea what to expect when we were pushed into the shelter by CPS, but it's worse than my imaginings. In many, many ways.

We were fortunate in having an advocate on our side. She had been helping me for a couple of months. She was able to get us a spot in the family shelter so we never had to go into the general population shelter, which is usually required.

The Family Shelter is located on the main level of an apartment building in the Hillside neighborhood of Duluth.

I was impressed the first time I saw the building, knowing that the upper levels were all permanent supportive housing and the shelter was downstairs. It looked modern and well kept, I was told the building is only a couple years old and was built to lead the way in helping homeless families.

Their creed: Helping children recover from the trauma of homelessness.

We needed a little of that after the fear of CPS.

I had Sparrow with me, she wasn't feeling well, so she, too, was impressed when we walked into the communal area with nice sofas, a computer room, laundry and then saw the offices where the social workers, housing folks and the like hang out.

It was clean, smelled nice and everyone was pretty friendly.

Obey every rule, no exceptions.

I filled out a mountain of paperwork, among which we were given our restrictions. A curfew, 10pm. We cannot go upstairs. We cannot enter other people's apartments. I cannot allow someone upstairs to babysit my children.

No visitors. Not even family. No allowing other people in our apartment. No drugs, alcohol or fighting (duh). Children must be with me at ALL TIMES, not even a quick run to the laundry room.

Pretty restrictive, a couple of those rules, but whatever, I'm not a rebelious youth, it's only temporary. But I can see how they could chaff on other people.

I was then told our apartment was not yet totally cleaned. It would be a few more hours.

I took Sparrow to lunch and we returned and waited, and waited. Inari and Willow finished classes and we waited some more.

Things were not as they seemed.

Finally we were given keys and our worker bustled out the door, since she'd stayed past 5 to wait for us.

We walked in expecting by now that the shelter would be as nice as the public face they put on.

Wrong. So. Freaking. Wrong.

We walked in that door and my heart sank. Immediately we were hit with the smell of curdled dairy and mold. Every wall was covered in marks of some kind. Crayon, marker, nail polish, someone had even etched their name and a date into the bathroom wall.

In the bedroom, there was dried blood on two walls. Reaching above my head. And on the floor in that same room was a large patch of filth with a bloody gauze from a previous tenant.

Nothing says recovering from trauma like blood on the walls and a risk of AIDS or Hepatitis!

There was still food from the previous tennant in the cabinets. I bagged that up and brought it to the front counter as much of it was open.

There was also a torn and stained baby's playpen left on the bed.

Under it was this.

My new worker had boasted that there were not bedbugs here yet but she didn't mention the mold on the matresses!

There's a second bedroom that we do not use. The four of us stay together in one room. I do not feel comfortable being seperated from my babies in this place.

That other room has nice french doors. At least they used to be nice. One of them has a broken window pane with jagged edges and glass shards on the floor. Even my youngest is capable of reaching it.

Super safe! Speaking of safety, there are three microwaves in the apartment. Two of those are old and I assume do not work. One of the extras is on top of a lightweight storage unit that is not tethered to the wall.

Could you imagine if this thing were to topple over onto your toddler??? Why haven't the microwaves been disposed of properly?

Then there are the provided sofa and loveseat. They look like this.

Part of that mess is plastic bags, the rest is stuffing from inside the sofa. Oh yeah, and it's covered in pudding, or baby food, or peanut butter, or SOMETHING. I wasn't about to sniff it to find out.

I called a friend who brought cleaning supplies and met me outside the security door.

I was in tears by then. I felt more homeless in the shelter than I ever did in our camper. At least the camper was clean and comfortable and sanitary.

I turned on some music and cleaned for three days straight. Scrubbing walls, the fridge, the grimey tub, the absolutely disgusting stove and oven, oh and that smell? That was the kitchen sink. Which didn't work by the way.

Dishes had to be washed in the bathroom.

I did tell several staff members what the place looked like. Asked them for cleaning supplies, which they did not give. Asked them to remove the broken glass, which they did not do.

That is, until the local news station was contacted. They did a story on the condition of the place. We were given donations of lots of household items, beds, blankets, a kitchen table, even a coffee maker, because of that story. Things all sitting in storage, waiting for us to move.

It's clean now, our shelter space. I've scrubbed everything. The family that comes after us will have a far better first day than we did.

This is the place other shelters are supposed to be modeled from. People told me I ought to be grateful they gave me a roof over our heads.

I'm sorry, but no. The state of the rooms was only the start of what we would see in this place.

To continue in Part 2

If you have read this far, thank you! I know it was a long read!

Click the link to read the second post.

Our Homeless Experience 7: The Homeless Shelter, Part 2