What it’s Like Living in a Homeless Shelter
By someone who’s been doing just that in a major U.S. city
In December of last year, I lost my apartment in the downtown of a major U. S. city. For the first time in my life, I was without a home.
I crashed on two friends’ couch a little past the first of the year, but I was in the way and I knew it. It was time for me to leave.
There was a men’s-only homeless shelter on the outskirts of downtown, about a mile from my now-former apartment. However, I had unanswered questions about the place.
Was it safe? Would I be beat up inside the facility? Would I be robbed of my one remaining backpack of stuff?
Would I get enough food there to stay alive?
Would I go months before I got my next shower, wearing the same clothes day in and day out, stinking, cooped up in close, un-air-conditioned quarters with dozens of other men who also stink?
I’d heard that in faith-based homeless shelters, men who stayed there were required to attend chapel daily — but that the sermons degraded the very people forced to attend them. Was that accurate? And if so, was I willing to tolerate the nightly verbal abuse in exchange for a place to sleep?
