o we've established that just by analyzing the physical word, perhaps homelessness is a little              more complicated and nuanced than we originally thought. But hopefully, we can agree that                the way we think about the language we use is important. Let's keep running with this. Here's one definition from the Public Health Service Act:

 

"A homeless person is an individual without permanent housing who may live on the streets; stay in a shelter, mission, single room occupancy facilities, abandoned building or vehicle; or in any other unstable or non-permanent situation.” 

 

This definition specifically provides scenarios and examples that allow us to better classify a homeless person. Someone without permanent housing, who lives on the streets, or who does not have a permanent living situation is homeless. At first glance, it's compelling and actually makes sense. The Public Health Service Act's definition focuses primarily on the physical space—where someone sleeps—emphasizing that if someone doesn't have a home, then they must be homelessness. I know what some of you may be thinking: if someone doesn't have a permanent home, they obviously must be homeless, but it's more complicated than that. Let's take a look at another definition. This next one comes from the Health Care for the Homeless Principles of Practice:

 

“An individual may be considered to be homeless if that person is ‘doubled up,’ a term that refers to a situation where individuals are unable to maintain their housing situation and are forced to stay with a series of friends and/or extended family members. In addition, previously homeless individuals who are to be released from a prison or a hospital may be considered homeless if they do not have a stable housing situation to which they can return. A recognition of the instability of an individual’s living arrangements is critical to the definition of homelessness."

 

It should not be overlooked that both of these definitions came from the National Health Care for the Homeless Council (NHCHC), which—by including multiple definitions on their website—indicates that the definitions must be partially incomplete and even a little too specific. Perhaps the NHCHC's tendency to include multiple specific definitions signals that the definition of homelessness is inherently limited and biased. 

 

           gain, similar to the first definition, the Health Care for the Homeless Principles of Practice                     highlights someone's housing situation, or lack thereof, as the main criteria for homelessness.             In contrast to the first definition, this one takes factors like couch surfing, time in prison, and medical issues into consideration. Why include such specificities when we are really just talking about whether someone does or does not have a home? Factors like prison time and mental health are clearly associated with homelessness: 

 

25 to 50 percent of people experiencing homelessness have also faced some type of incarceration.  

 

"30-35% of those experiencing homelessness, and up to 75% of women experiencing homelessness, have mental illnesses. 20-25% of people experiencing homelessness suffer from concurrent disorders (severe mental illness and addictions)" - Homeless Hub. 

 

In trying to piece together a "true" or "all-encompassing" definition of homelessness, it's noteworthy to consider labels. When defining homelessness, not all "homeless" people fall under the same umbrella. In 2009, the United Nations classified the broader homeless population into two groups: Primary homelessness and Secondary homelessness.

 

Primary homelessness, also known as rooflessness, comprises individuals that live on the streets without a shelter. They literally lack a roof. Duh. Rooflessness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Secondary homelessness, however, refers to people who sporadically oscillate between different types of accommodations such as shelters, institutions for the homeless, as well as friends and families' homes. This can include those who couch surf but lack a permanent address.

 

While it may be obvious, primary homelessness or rooflessness emphasizes a physical roof, implicitly categorizing a home as a physical structure with a roof and thereby indicating—with the word "primary"—that living on the street is inexcusably worse or more common than living in a shelter. While we may assume that all people would prefer to sleep in a shelter than on the street, this distinction unfairly places a stigma on those that live on the street and does not account for their perspective. What if someone preferred to live on the street? What if the street was proudly someone's home? Are they still homeless? 

 

"To stay in a shelter you have to carry all your belongings and leave at a certain time and come back to wait in line to get in at another certain time... For me to move to a shelter and go that route would degrade my way of living right now. It would be like taking a step back.” - Cassidy Sweezey, a resident of "The Jungle" (In Seattle, hundreds of people live in "The Jungle," a large place of residence just under Interstate 5). 

 

Despite the UN's attempt to simplify the definition of homelessness, creating two classes of homelessness leads to further assumption, degradation, judgment, and distinction. The NHCHC takes a different approach when categorizing homelessness by creating three groupings: temporary homelessness, episodic homelessness, and chronic homelessness.

 

Temporary homelessness stems from crises such as natural disasters, a family breakup, sudden unemployment, depression, or substance abuse. It’s important to mention that temporary homelessness occurs when these events happen and an individual lacks support from his or her family, which can then lead to homelessness. Often, once someone experiences temporary homelessness, it becomes increasingly difficult to insert one’s self back into the community. Temporary homelessness illustrates to us that rejection from family or a community often exacerbates the conditions that people associate with homeless people.

 

          pisodic homelessness, differing from temporary homelessness, includes people who                            continuously fluctuate in and out of homelessness. If you’re experiencing episodic                                homelessness, you may be dependant on disability checks every month, you may be a runaway youth, or may even be a single mother bouncing around among friends. Often, those who are classified under the episodic homeless population are referred to as the ‘hidden homeless’ because they do not blatantly hold stereotypical homeless traits and tend to be more integrated into society. 

 

Finally, moving to the most severe form of homelessness, chronic homelessness includes individuals who tend to struggle with additional at-risk factors like mental illness or substance abuse. If someone spends more than a consecutive year without housing, that person is classified under chronic homelessness.

 

These three sects of the homeless population push back against the stereotype that when you see someone on the street, they immediately fall under the generic category: homeless. To write someone off as homeless who portrays certain homeless stereotypes is simply unfair to our fellow human beings. This assumption begs the question: why are there so many different definitions of homelessness? Perhaps the multitude of definitions is related to the notion that homelessness is not clear-cut. It does not have a true opposite. It is morphed and manipulated by society. You're either "homeless" or you're "normal." These classifications are problematic because they create and condone judgment, miscategorization, group stereotypes, and a threatening binary (those who are homeless and those who aren't), ultimately allowing this unacceptable status quo to persist. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            ften, as you can clearly see in the image above, there isn't even a huge distinction between                  homeless attire and hipster attire. And yet, we still ostracize the homeless for their                                institutionalized dress code simply because there is a homeless person under the clothing, not a hipster. Why do we think this way? It's inappropriate and demeaning, is it not? Why do we look at a middle-aged couple with suspicion when they do not have children? We might even deem them "childless," but we'd probably refer to a smilier couple with children as... a family.

 

If you don't have children, if you don't have a home, something must be horribly horribly wrong (with you). This systemic binary needs to stop.

 

One particular nonprofit organization does an excellent job at distinguishing between the different kinds of homelessness, treating all people as human beings. Broad Street Ministry (BSM) in Philadelphia is a “broad-minded Christian community that cherishes creativity, fosters and nurtures artistic expression, extends inclusive hospitality and—works for a more just world through civic engagement.” BSM not only beautifully refers to the population they care for as their guests but also addresses them as people experiencing poverty. This way, BSM takes assumption out of the equation and promotes inclusivity. BSM intentionally states why they do not refer to their guests as homeless people:

 

“…even though more than 99% of our guests experience deep poverty, in fact only about 23 to 30% (depending on the time of year) of our guests are experiencing homelessness – that is living outdoors in the city. Most of the other 70% of our guests are experiencing chronic housing (and food) insecurity. This means that, although they may have a place to stay tonight, and some food to eat, they have no clear expectation that such will be the case tomorrow or in the immediate future.”

 

Even more important is their second rationale for why they intentionally make this language distinction: words matter.

 

When you label a fellow human being as “homeless,” you are limiting them to that sole feature, that one identity marker, that one part of their experience, that one part of their life story.

 

In reality, these words and labels matter, a lot. They can make all the difference for someone experiencing poverty, housing insecurity, or food insecurity. Labels and stigmas not only manipulate the way we think about those that appear to be homeless but also affect how people experiencing poverty think about themselves.