During a year spent working with the homeless in New York City, I encountered over 200 individuals without stable housing. However, in that time, only three managed to secure permanent residences.
My team was a mix of professionals: a social worker, two case managers, and a nurse who administered Narcan. We collaborated with shelters, healthcare facilities, and municipal agencies, performing psychosocial evaluations, managing crises, and referring individuals to housing options.
We represented the outreach model that Mayor Mamdani’s administration seeks as a solution to the city’s homelessness issue. Thus, I find the mayor’s latest proposal deeply concerning. His strategy emphasizes ceasing encampment sweeps and shifting to a housing-first perspective through the proposed Community Safety Bureau. This plan intends to deploy outreach teams alongside social workers to link those in need to supportive and rental housing, while also introducing crisis centers in subway stations.
But the mayor’s statements don’t seem to align with the reality I witnessed first-hand. I genuinely believed in the efficacy of our approach, yet I saw it fall short for those we aimed to support. The prospect of New York advancing similar initiatives again feels disheartening, challenging my ethical responsibilities both as a social worker and as an observant Jew.
Working to Help
I interacted with a wide range of individuals from their late teens to those in their 70s. Their backgrounds were diverse: immigrants escaping cartel violence, military veterans, people recently released from prison, individuals battling severe mental illnesses, those with physical disabilities, women fleeing domestic abuse, and LGBTQ youth ousted by their families.
My colleagues and I visited numerous homeless shelters, subway stations, hospitals, and parks, all while striving to provide housing for those lacking shelter. A glimpse into some stories reveals the struggles of our clients, though I’ve chosen to use pseudonyms for privacy reasons.
* Mario, diagnosed with schizophrenia at 18, came from a devout Catholic family but was disowned for being gay. Lacking job skills, he found himself in a shelter after being bullied and felt he couldn’t return home, as his mother still rejected him.
* Julio, an 18-year-old who fled South America after witnessing his friend’s death, wanted to escape drug-related pressures from the cartel. With aspirations of studying pharmacology, he isolated himself in the shelter, wary of others due to his traumatic experiences.
* Olga, nearly 40 and living on a park bench in Brooklyn, battled addiction and left her daughter with her ex-boyfriend’s family to focus on treatment. She agreed to stay in a women’s shelter, but the team felt it crucial for her to regain custody of her daughter, which she believed would improve her own life. Sadly, after a week, she disappeared.
* James, a black Army veteran in his 60s, had his belongings stolen by a supposed friend while caring for his sick wife. After losing everything, he ended up in a shelter where we assisted him in finding a home through veteran services.
* Tony, a white father in his 30s, lived in a family shelter with his autistic daughter after his wife’s passing and subsequent job loss. Through support, he found work and housing, enabling his daughter to attend school.
* Antionette, a transgender woman in her 20s, faced rejection from her family and was placed in a men’s shelter, where she encountered harassment. Despite our efforts to secure her housing, it took months to find a suitable and accessible place.
Alongside these stories, several others highlight the relentless hurdles encountered in trying to assist our clients, from addiction struggles to severe mental health issues and systemic barriers.
Equity of Care
Throughout my year of service, I visited numerous locations with the intent of aiding individuals and helping them find stable housing. I saw many struggling with addiction, lacking hygiene, and individuals who’d arrived in search of a better life.
My intention has always been rooted in compassion, but I stand against false promises that merely serve as illusions. To truly help those on the streets, we must enhance mental health care, educate on mental illness, and create programs to equip the younger generation with essential life skills to avoid future homelessness.
It’s vital to educate families with mentally ill members so that youth like Mario aren’t left abandoned without support. We need to implement programs fostering fundamental work and life skills before these individuals face homelessness.
Moreover, we must recognize that equity in resource distribution does not equate to equitable care. Mental health treatment should be personalized and adaptable, contrary to the standardization often found in socialist systems.
In my experience as a social worker, I’ve learned that addressing mental health isn’t a simple matter. Delays in treatment can be fatal, and a mismatch in therapeutic approaches can exacerbate symptoms. We must look beyond the individual to their broader context—culture, environment, and trauma all play significant roles.
For me, as an observant Jew, seeking justice is crucial. True justice is not about ideological purity but rather about not abandoning individuals who struggle with policies that fail to meet their needs.
