There Is a Place for Us: Working to End Homelessness in America

I was recently gifted Brian Goldstone’s book There Is No Place for Us: Working and Homeless in America. There was nothing revelatory in it for me; I did not expect there to be. Every family whose story is chronicled felt familiar. I have heard versions of those struggles, impossible choices, and constant uncertainty too many times to count—not personally, but through nearly 16 years of proximity to families living them.

What did surprise me was how deeply I felt the experiences of the five families chronicled throughout the book. I found myself feeling their fear, frustration, and exhaustion as though I were living alongside them. I never felt angry at a decision a family made. Instead, it felt like watching a horror movie when you know what is about to happen but cannot warn the people on the screen. You see the choices coming. You know the consequences. And you are powerless to stop them. The worst part was knowing the outcome would not mirror a Hallmark movie.

Eventually, I had to switch from reading the book to listening to the audio version while driving or cooking dinner. The distraction helped me finish it—and probably helped keep my outbursts to a minimum.

On Aug 14th, Brian Goldstone spoke at Blacknall Presbyterian Church, one of FMF’s longstanding faith partners. We were invited to attend, and what an honor it was. The passion and urgency that came through on the pages of the book were just as evident when he spoke. The same emotions I felt while reading rose again as I listened. You cannot do this work and not feel deeply. I was joined by a board member and a staff member, and I am sure they noticed my shifts as I struggled to contain my anger, frustration, and sadness.

The stories in this book are a powerful reminder that families can do everything “right” and still find themselves at a homeless shelter—or, in the case of the families in this book, facing an extended period of homelessness. They can work, care for their children, make responsible decisions, and do everything they can to remain housed—and still lose their home.

Although the families discussed in the book were living in Atlanta, they very well could have been here in Durham. In fact, I could think of at least three to four families I know for each family mentioned. This is happening all across America; this is happening in our own city. We are part of the story. And we have choices to make about how we show up for families before, during, and after a housing crisis.

It is no surprise that for someone that has been doing this work for as long as I have that Goldstone’s book did not show me a new problem. It reminded me that the same stories will continue to repeat themselves unless we choose to respond differently. Homelessness may be a national crisis, but how we respond to it is deeply local. It is shaped by the choices we make as a community, the policies we support, the systems we build, and the way we treat our neighbors when they are at their most vulnerable.

Sometimes we have the privilege of living inside a bubble. Our lives are full of the everyday bustle—childcare, schoolwork, community activities, caring for our parents, work, and church. In the fullness of those lives, it can be easy to miss what our neighbors are experiencing just beyond our own doors.

So, I invite you to look beyond the bubble. Look for opportunities to volunteer. Listen to the stories of people experiencing homelessness. Learn more about the systems and policies that shape whether families can remain housed. And, most importantly, find a way to move a little closer to the families whose stories are unfolding around us.

Because these are not just stories in a book. They are stories happening here, too. And our response matters.