When most passersby see a homeless person on the street, they do the same three things: avert their eyes, avoid getting too close and walk a little faster. I’ve done it too. We’ve gone collectively blind to the plight of the homeless because we perceive them as different, and that difference makes us uncomfortable. As a result, we’ve excommunicated them from our society like modern day lepers, depriving them of basic human respect and dignity.
Over the course of a bitterly cold late January and early February, I paid three visits to the Robert J. Delonis Center, Ann Arbor’s largest homeless shelter, to find out what needs to change. The lobby was constantly active, with staff handing out lunch tickets, a translator working across language barriers and the receptionist elegantly balancing phone calls with the ever-present line of people formed at her desk.
In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Daniel Kelly, executive director of the Shelter Association of Washtenaw County (which administers the Delonis Center), said that a rapid increase in housing prices and eviction rates has contributed to “record need” for the shelter’s services; but many people still don’t understand the scale of the issue.
“In Washtenaw County, we have over 3,000 people homeless in a given year, and the number is rising,” Kelly explained. “It’s kind of like an iceberg. You only see the tip typically, and there’s just this giant thing under the water.”
From June 2022 to June 2023, Washtenaw County’s homeless population increased by 138% and the number of individuals relocated to permanent housing decreased by 16%.
Kelly then proposed a method to visualize what’s below the waves: Imagine 3,000 homeless people crowded into the Diag. Now the problem feels more urgent. Put yourself there, every person you see has a different story. Husband and wife, Richard and Crystal Bower, told me theirs.
For most of the winter, the couple and their dog lived in a tent camp behind a Meijer in Taylor. The store staff welcomed them for cleaning up needles and garbage in the parking lot, but police forced them to leave.
“When you’re homeless here, you don’t have civil rights like everybody else does,” Richard lamented. “As soon as they find out you’re homeless, they treat you differently.”
The two of them made the three-day walk to Ypsilanti, as they were unable to find transportation. Crystal was hit by a drunk driver on Michigan Avenue after dark. She was wearing all the necessary reflectors, but the road had no sidewalk. Rescue workers pronounced Crystal dead on the scene, but thankfully succeeded in resuscitating her.
“They were asking: What’s my wife’s name, what’s her date of birth, what’s her address,” Richard said. “And as soon as they got to the address part, and (we) said we have no address, all the rescue workers just turned their backs and walked away from us.” Richard continued, “The cop says, ‘Come here,’ and pulls me away from my dying wife’s side to run my name for warrants. And I don’t have no warrants. It’s just because they automatically assume that homeless people have warrants and they’re drug addicts. The only word I can use is inhumane.”
The workers did eventually take Crystal to the hospital. While she was preoccupied there with her husband, their dog ran away and died. Since then, Richard has been too busy caring for Crystal to get a job. He finds ways to hustle money in the few hours a day she sleeps. When I asked them what misconceptions about homelessness they’d like to clear up, Richard said, “We’re human beings like everybody else.”
Crystal added, “We’re not always all the same. We’re not drug addicts.” With her chin held high and a smile across her face, still scarred from the accident, she proudly stated, “I didn’t take their oxycodone. I didn’t take no narcotics. I take Tylenol, ibuprofen and Aspirin.”
The public understands the homeless to be a homogenous group, but they aren’t. Some of the people at the Delonis Center are there by bad fortune. Some are there because of bad decisions. Many abuse drugs or alcohol; even more have a mental illness. Kelly estimates that 70% of people at the Delonis Center fall into this category, which ranges from mild depression to paranoid schizophrenia. Mental health and substance use disorders are especially linked to chronic homelessness, although the connection is not always causal. Every homeless person is an individual, with their own flaws, strengths and challenges. In other words, they are normal human beings facing an abnormal set of circumstances.
When people on the left discuss the issue, they miss the abnormal part, instead creating new terms like “unhoused.” None of the people I spoke to at the Delonis Center complained about being called homeless; they complained about being homeless. The word is unpleasant because the situation itself is unpleasant. “Homeless” evokes a visceral reaction, reminding everyone who hears it of the injustice these individuals are suffering. “Unhoused” sounds like it refers to a lifestyle choice. It doesn’t call to action. But lacking permanent shelter is not a lifestyle choice, it’s a catastrophe — one that we shouldn’t diminish with sanitized language.
On the other hand, those on the right say that American cities have been “invaded” or “overrun” by the homeless. Without context, you’d think these commentators were describing enemy soldiers or even locusts. Homeless people are neither of these things. The reality is that Americans are on the streets, and their country is failing them. They aren’t setting up tent camps or crowding places like the Delonis Center because they want to — they have nowhere else to go.
Berating the homeless won’t put them into houses or apartments any more than transforming our vocabulary will. Ann Arbor deserves practical solutions.
In the short term, that means giving more volunteer and financial support to places like the Delonis Center. Kelly makes this promise to anyone who arrives at the shelter’s doors: “They’ll be safe, they’ll be warm.” Guests there can find sleeping arrangements, free meals, showers, laundry machines, social workers and medical care. Perhaps most importantly, they receive a caseworker that helps them find a permanent home and assists them with individual needs.
Long term, the University needs to build more student housing. This won’t solve the problem entirely, but it’s a giant leap in the right direction. According to Kelly, many of the low-rent landlords the Shelter Association used to work with now sign leases to students instead. This puts the homeless into direct competition with a group whose median family income is $154,000 — a bidding war the homeless can’t win.
A new residence hall is currently under construction at Elbel Field, a good start, but Kelly says an additional one or two would be even better. In an interview with the University Record, University President Santa Ono stated that, “Since 2004, undergraduate enrollment has increased by more than 8,000 students, yet on-campus housing has simply not kept pace.” The roughly 2,300 beds at Elbel aren’t enough to close that gap, but another 2,300 on top of them could be.
The University of Michigan and residents of this community are capable of solving homelessness in Ann Arbor. The people here are kind and empathetic, but after going to the Delonis Center, I was surprised at how little of this virtue we extend to those most in need. The homeless aren’t lepers — they don’t belong in encampments behind stores or on lonely benches in the cold. They deserve our generosity and a place in our society. This city can make change happen, now it’s a matter of will.
To donate to the Delonis Center and Shelter Association of Washtenaw County, visit the link here.
Deputy Editorial Page Editor Jack Brady writes about American politics and culture. He can be reached at jackrbra@umich.edu.