Why $0$? — $0$. (Hey everyone. This is Tug. Normally I…
By: Anna Almstead
Tags: Nonprofit, Homeless, Bay Area, Change, Poverty

(Hey everyone. This is Tug. Normally I am the one who writes these blog entries, but today my partner, Alan Underwood, is subbing in. He is the guy who started this whole thing, and today he’s going to talk about why. Take it away Alan.)

Since we are about eight months in, I thought it might be a good time to explain why I started $0$ and what it’s for. Originally $0$ wasn’t for the homeless, and to a degree it’s still not. Homelessness, as I’ve learned, doesn’t mean what we think it means.

That picture shows a person who is what we call “visibly homeless,” as in you can see it… and most likely smell it. That person is probably homeless, and you can tell it just by looking at them. Visible homelessness is a real problem and we do intend to address it but it isn’t what inspired me to create $0$. What inspired me was something that I hadn’t previously realized the scope and scale of:

Invisible Homelessness

People who are invisibly homeless may not be homeless all the time. They may be able to shower and have a relatively stable place to stay, usually for limited periods of time and without much negotiating power. They most likely have clean clothes. In fact, they frequently prioritize having clean clothes over other things. The goal is to not let anyone know that you are actually homeless, and dirty clothes are a dead giveaway. Invisibly homeless people often live in alternative housing situations such as cars, RVs or even boats. Family land, friends’ houses, garages, attics, shops, trailers, sublets, sub-sublets, couches, futons, anywhere they can exist and keep the things that they still own relatively safe.

If it’s invisible, how can we see it?

For me, it was brought to my attention. My fiancee and I split up back in 2013. I was devastated, but I went along with it because what can you do? I leased a small studio apartment in downtown Raleigh and immediately people started trying to move in with me. Before I had even moved into it myself people were already trying to split a STUDIO apartment with me. I thought it was weird and I didn’t understand it at the time.

One person did move in. He moved all the way from Wisconsin even after I told him no, and that I wasn’t going to get a two bedroom or even a one bedroom. I was just going to live on my own in a studio. This, I thought, was a simple miscommunication. He moved in anyway and six months later I finally managed to get him out.

After that it seemed like every third person was trying to move in with me. I got nervous about inviting people over because I thought that if they found out that I had an apartment to myself they would suggest that they be my roommate, always half joking, never actually joking. I still didn’t get it. I didn’t understand that to some people housing is a game of musical chairs and sometimes you lose.

The worst part is I didn’t even live in the Bay Area at the time.

So several other people moved in with me, some for weeks, some months, once for years. Some sober, some not. All of them were technically homeless… except for the fact that they lived with me. On my own, I have never had a larger apartment than a one bedroom. The palatial 3 bedroom apartment that my fiancee and I used to have would have made sense for people to try to move into, but it never happened. They never even asked. Why now that I am on my own was there this constant pressure from my friends and peers to let them live with me in a cramped and crowded space?

Because the alternative was homelessness.

And you say, ok so you just hang out with poor people… and honestly maybe that’s true. I kind of don’t trust rich people. I guess I shouldn’t say that on a blog that my rich friends will read and that I’m intending to use as a fundraising platform, but it’s true, I don’t. You can ask Jesus why I don’t. Something about a camel and the eye of a needle.

My friends range in income. I won’t say where I personally fall on the scale, but I know millionaires and I know people so broke and destitute that if you saw me with them you’d think I was buying drugs. But I was determined not to judge people on their income level or economic status, one way or the other. That’s part of how I saw the invisible homelessness problem, and while it’s not a decision that I regret, it’s a decision that irreversibly changed my life.

I want to tell you what I did on my own without $0$, but first I want to be very clear that you should probably not attempt this yourself. Please do not do this and don’t say I didn’t warn you if you do. My lawyers aren’t making me say this. I really seriously actually mean it. Do not try this at home.

Ok, so here’s what I did.

I decided to help them.

Myself. On my own. With no organization between me and them. These people needed help, and they felt very strongly that they weren’t going to get it. So quite simply and matter of factly, I told them that they would get it. And then I gave it to them. Myself. Without help, without backing and sometimes through great efforts that I did my best to never tell anyone about how much it took out of me. I just handled it.

My household budget has suffered the worst of the losses but the savings account is long gone too. I figured if they didn’t have a savings account then it would be ok that I didn’t either. Like I said, do NOT do this. These people are homeless or almost homeless. They’re like the worst people on the planet to take financial advice from.

(Tug’s note: When Alan did what he did, he was working a very good job that more than paid his bills (a job he is planning on sacrificing to work full time on $0$), and for as long as I have known him, he has not been someone who has had much use for material goods. He had a lot of spare money at his disposal, and a very sizable cushion. He knew what he was getting into, and made some very calculated decisions when he undertook this mission. He was able to take care of himself while taking care of others, which is the only reason he survived. Seriously, do not try this at home, unless you are really, sure you can survive the process.)

But here’s the thing. They’re right.

There really is no cavalry coming to rescue them. When they apply for aid, they won’t get it. The odds of them being able to navigate the byzantine myriad array of social services, even just the ones provided by the government are low, never mind non-profit organizations. If the government is impossible to navigate, the private sector is even more impossible. Each organization has a lengthy and tedious application process. And even if they do manage to figure out if they qualify, fill out all the paperwork, and get it all turned in in the right way, it most likely won’t matter, because in the time that you most need help, the word that you will hear the most often is

No.

To a person in that situation “yes” seems like an impossible dream. Their options are bad, bad, and worse — certainly not yes. They don’t feel that risking the amount of time it would take to fill out the paperwork would be worth it since most of the answers would be no and it takes up a lot of valuable time that could be spent working or applying for jobs.

Many of them are not sober. Again, it’s not like you make it all the way to the brink of homelessness because you made a bunch of good decisions. And you surely didn’t get there because you’re good at paperwork. You get there because you made a bunch of mistakes that you didn’t realize were mistakes.

So here’s this person (me) who says “Yes, I’ll help you. I’ll give you what you need to do the thing you are trying to do” and it sounds like the voice of an angel in their despair.

I’ve been called stupid for doing this. A lot. A lot. I’ve been called stupid by more smart people for helping people than I ever have in my whole life. And again, I just want to be very, very clear that they’re right. I am stupid for doing this.

(Tug’s note: I would argue that while Alan’s decisions have been risky, they weren’t stupid. If he had gone in without a plan, that would have been stupid. If you want to follow in his footsteps, make sure that you are very clear on how much you can give and still survive.)

But I have changed peoples LIVES.

Literally I myself personally have changed people’s entire lives and they will acknowledge that. Sure sometimes it didn’t work out but it wasn’t going to work out anyway and I had nothing to do with that. I was just trying to help.

This was a bad idea.

Helping people is never a bad idea, but taking questionable people into your own very small apartment for a period of more than five years was really bad for my mental health. I suffered a lot more from that than I think people ever realized.

(Tug’s note: This is definitely true. I’ve known Alan for years, and I definitely saw a change in him during this time.)

By opening myself up to helping people in this situation, I allowed myself to hear their financial panics which caused me stress — of course it did, they are experiencing the worst panic of their lives. The whole point of telling me about their financial problems was to make sure that I felt the panic of it too — which would then induce me to help (have I mentioned that you shouldn’t do this).

So while helping people isn’t bad, taking on their problems is. It isn’t fair to yourself and it’s not fair to them. Some people need more help than others, but the amount of help that I am obligated to give is none.

By now you’re like, are you ever going to get to the point and tell us what $0$ is for?

No. Short answer, no. It’s a blog. You’ll have to tune in next time for that. But longer answer — I’m good at long answers — is that what $0$ allows you to do is to help people without getting too personally involved. It’s an exit strategy. It lets you help people and then when things get too hairy or too difficult you can say, ok I’ve done all I can, now you need to contact $0$ and they’ll help you.

$0$ is the last resort. What we do is we don’t say no.

We say yes.

To be continued.