Not too long ago, I work near the world trade center. And every morning, I would make my way to the Chambers Street stop on the A Train. It was during this commute that I made friends with a homeless man. But in hindsight, I’m not a hundred percent sure I can call him a friend. We never learned each other’s names, he had never been to my house, and I know for sure I had never been to his, we never exchanged, gifts or imparted advice. So really we were just two humans acknowledging each other’s humanity. For the sake of this story, we’ll call him Irving. 

Irving was in his late 50’s or early 60’s. He was 5’8 with a slender build and brown skin. He had bushy black hair, with an ever-growing spattering of grey, and his face wore the look of someone whose life had been a constant struggle. There was no way to look at him and not wonder what led to his primary residence being the floor of a train station in lower manhattan. Most days you would find him lying down casually at the foot of the steps with a newspaper or two by his feet. Sometimes he would be asking for money, but mostly he read his papers and people watched.

I spoke to Irving every single day, honestly, how could I not? I had to walk past his station to get to work. The thing that stood out to me more than anything was our conversations, they weren’t especially interesting, and I didn’t really learn anything. if we’re being honest, they almost never lasted more than 45 seconds, and the same topics were covered. Our routine was simple, If I gave him money, he would thank me, smile, then say, “Pretty good, I can’t complain.” If it was a day when I didn’t have anything on me, he would crack a joke about my needing to get a new job, then respond once again, “Life was good.”

I found Irving to be endearing and funny, what I didn’t understand, was how someone who seemed to have so much life, and optimism (At least when we talked) could be in this situation and still be able to smile? I mentioned this to a friend, and she put things in perspective for me. “How often do you think people in the streets talk to him, let alone acknowledge he even exists?” The thought had never crossed my mind, but she was right. I planned to ask him for coffee and have a real conversation the next time we saw each other, but then COVID happened, everything shut down, and I stopped getting off at Chambers Street. 

It’s been a couple of years now, and he’s not there anymore, I’m not sure where he is, how he’s doing, or what our small interactions meant to him, but I still remember him. As sad as it is to say, Irving may well be nothing but a footnote in my life, a name, and face that will soon fade away, a question that is never answered, a life with a question mark for an ending. While our particular relationship may stand out, Irving’s story is not that special. Every single day in New York, thousands of Irvings are navigating through the streets. Most of them will die, and no one will know or care.

On any given day, there are half a million people sleeping on our streets, staying in homeless shelters, or struggling to find a place to rest their heads. With the current housing and rent crisis we’re currently facing, that number is about to explode!

You walk past them all of the time, so desensitized by their presence that it barely registers as a problem anymore. Not just you, we all do, we look right past the people who have fallen on hard times, we turn a deaf ear to their pleas for help, we groan in frustration as they block our walkways and smell up our streets. They no longer exist, they are not human, and with no humanity to respect, we easily forget that not too long ago, these were people who laughed, loved, lived, and had a story to tell. A story that took a sharp left turn, but was nonetheless a story.

The truth is, we choose to let people die on the streets, their blood is on our hands, the system isn’t helpful, but we are the architects of those failures. Thankfully, just as we have built a platform that stifles the fight to end homelessness, we also have the power to tear it down and create a plan that works, a plan that has already been put to action, one that can save the lives of more people than we could ever imagine. It’s simple, just give homeless people homes.

As crazy as this idea sounds, it’s not. Several states have already tried this strategy, and it works. For example, the state of Utah decreased its number of chronically homeless people by over 90% after implementing a program that provided no-questions-asked housing to homeless people. When the state of Maine tried the program out, they also saw some positive benefits. According to a report titled, “Maine, Cost of Homelessness,” “Permanent supportive housing cut by more than half of emergency room costs (62% reduction), health care costs (59% reduction), ambulance transportation costs (66% reduction), police contact costs (66% reduction), incarceration (62% reduction), and shelter visits (98% reduction).”

This idea hasn’t just been successful in smaller states. Countries in Europe have seen positive benefits as well. According to the Guardian, In Finland, “From 2008 to 2014 the number of people who were long-term homeless decreased by approximately 1,200.” Once people were in stable housing, they were more prepared to deal with other issues that attributed to their homelessness.

Providing homes alone won’t solve the problem obviously, but if we give people a stable place to call their own, cover expenses for that place until they can support themselves, and then work with them to address issues with mental health, employment, job readiness, or other inhibitors towards housing stability, we would be able to put a serious dent in our housing crisis. while potentially saving a lot of money. In our current system, we spend billions of dollars trying to manage homelessness, and instead of seeing progress, the issue of housing insecurity is only getting worse. What we have always done obviously doesn’t work, that’s why it’s time to try something new. Just give homeless people homes.