Being Just A Number - Counting The Homeless

Back in 2010, I had a police officer tell me that a shopping cart equaled one homeless person and a tent equaled two. Since that day, I have been very suspect of the accuracy of homeless statistics. This week, I participated in the Greater Los Angeles Homeless Count because I wanted to understand their particular methodology. We did count tents, but not shopping carts. The tents also seem to remain tents in the final numbers - instead of equating them to a number of people.

The people running the count were very kind, but there was this air of protecting the volunteers from the homeless that was floating about. The training video explicitly stated that the homeless were people too, but went on to tell us to not talk to them "in order to keep their privacy". I kept imagining some guy coming up to me on the street, not saying anything, writing a tally mark down on a clipboard, and just walking away. I would be so sad. People talk to people. People count items. Homeless people are not items. Can you imagine how our national census would go if census takers just counted houses?

We also counted from 8pm to midnight - and in groups. At 11pm, the organizer called me to tell me I could stop if I felt unsafe. If my safety was a concern, why did we count at night? Is it so we don't have to talk to sleeping homeless people? Is it because they're easier to count when they're not moving? Is it because volunteers can't make it out during the day? I had just walked by a sleeping woman and I felt that SHE was unsafe... because she was asleep outside.

It was not explicitly stated, but I felt that for the sake of the volunteers, The Count was also buying into this idea that homeless people are "the other" - that they are not one of US. The ironic thing is that as long as we have this view of separation, homelessness will not get solved.

Some homeless people can be dangerous, but it's not a rule. A more accurate rule might be that homeless people are sad, depressed, and/or lonely. And treating them as a potential danger and a number to count just makes them sadder, lonelier, and more depressed.

Can we start bridging the gap between "us" and "them" by calling the act of counting the homeless a census? I get that the word change is just a token, but maybe some volunteers might feel safer with that word.