This is the time of year when we reflect upon what we’re thankful for, and to be sure, that list is long. But it’s also a time for us to recognize the challenges facing so many of our neighbors, challenges that can be overcome only through the concerted efforts of everyone in our community.

While many of us are looking forward to sitting down to a large Thanksgiving dinner with family and friends, thousands of DC residents live in poverty and go hungry. Social services programs and volunteers work hard to ensure that those facing homelessness and poverty have a hot meal on Thanksgiving Day, which is wonderful, but DC residents face hunger year-round and social-service programs alone cannot meet their needs. DC has the third highest poverty rate in the nation[1], and the root causes of hunger – a lack of affordable housing, a shortage of higher-wage jobs, and inadequate access to education, to name a few – are problems that must be addressed 365 days a year. Read more about ways we can work together to end hunger and boost economic security for all members of our community here.

 With that in mind, we’d like to share a few things we’re thankful for year-round:

•  Our clients, who trust and confide in us and invite us into their lives. The strength and grace with which they face the challenges presented to them on a daily basis is always inspiring and often awe-inducing.
• Our volunteers, who allow us to be present in the community in ways that would otherwise be impossible. They give of their time and their talent so that the Legal Clinic can respond effectively to our clients’ needs.
• Our board members, who work incredibly hard to assure that we have the resources we need to do the work they trust us to do.
• Our donors, whose generous spirit makes our work possible.
• Our colleagues in the advocacy community, who join their voices with ours to turn up the volume as we call for justice for our low- and no-income neighbors.
• Our partners in the government, who commit their lives to public services and work hard to meet community member needs.

Last, but certainly not least, we are thankful to all of you who read this blog, share it with others, and who support us in fighting for a just and inclusive DC, where housing is a human right and everyone has access to the resources they need not just to survive, but to thrive.

Written by Amber Harding

On November 6, 2012, Laura White, 45, passed away. At the time she worked in the DC Office of Disability Rights as a Compliance Specialist. Two years ago she was diagnosed with cancer. She continued to work until just days before she died. I’d like to reflect on a few reasons why she will be missed so much.

When I first met Laura about eight or nine years ago, she was an advocate for youth with disabilities and we were working hard to pass the Disability Rights Protection Act. I admired her passion and her expertise, and I loved her sense of humor and bluntness. When we were successful and the Office of Disability Rights was created, the first director was smart to offer her a job, but I admit I was sad to see her leave advocacy to work for the government.

I soon learned that Laura would never leave advocacy, though. She embodied what it meant to be a true advocate for change from the “inside.” The Legal Clinic’s clients immediately felt comfortable with her not only because she herself had a disability but because she was so empathetic and outraged at injustice.

One of our clients had been discriminated against and harassed by a service provider for months before she sought help from me and the Office of Disability Rights. When she first met with Laura she had already been interviewed by an agency employee who was investigating her claims. He accused her of lying and made excuses for her mistreatment. She was reluctant to tell anyone else her story until she saw how carefully Laura listened—and it was particularly affirming when Laura openly and bluntly told her that the service provider had clearly violated the law! Laura then shared the exact steps she was going to take to make sure it never happened to another person– and then took those steps. According to this client (who remains anonymous due to the settlement with the provider): “She was so dedicated to making sure people with disabilities receive the services they need and she fought for the truth to be told. She was so caring and effective, and I don’t know where I’d be today without her help.”

Another one of our clients whom Laura helped on several occasions had this to say about her:

My first encounter with Laura took place several years ago. I had an issue with Medicaid and I called Laura on a Tuesday about it. By Thursday of the same week, she was holding a conference in her office with me, the Ombudsman of DC Medicaid, and a pharmacist on the phone. Within three days of learning about my problem, she essentially solved it.

We had a few conversations subsequent to that when I had exhausted my more immediate resources for various issues and would contact her for ideas and intervention. She helped me on multiple occasions. She had a “take no prisoners” approach.

Laura could be most persuasive. It saddens me that she’s gone. She was the quintessential model on “follow through;” if anyone were to write the manual, it was her. If others who are tasked with helping people were just 10% as good as her, the world would be a better place.

Just one month before she passed, Laura assisted this same client with getting an inspection report from the Department of Consumer and Regulatory Affairs (DCRA) — he had a roach infestation in his apartment and had been repeatedly unsuccessful in obtaining the report by himself. Even if a problem did not directly involve a disability rights issue, Laura empathized with the difficulties many clients face in dealing with government systems, and she took the extra step to ensure that clients received the respect and attention they deserved.

The following is an excerpt from a poem that Laura wrote when she was only fifteen, shared by her family at Laura’s memorial service. I hope her words inspire you even a fraction as much as knowing her did for those of us who were so fortunate:

This is the legacy she leaves behind for countless DC residents whose lives were bettered because they had the privilege of working with Laura. The standard she set by her tireless advocacy and work ethic is what all advocates, both outside and inside the government, should strive to uphold.

The following is adapted from testimony given by our own LaJuan Brooks, Administrative Assistant at WLCH, at the October 26th hearing on the Local Rent Supplement Program.

My name is LaJuan Brooks and I am a Local Rent Supplement Program (LRSP) voucher holder. I have been a participant of the program since 2006. It was because of this particular voucher that I, along with my family, was able to move out of the District Family Shelter System and into our own home.

My family and I were homeless for approximately four years from 2002 to 2006 when I received my tenant-based voucher. I was gainfully employed at the time but could not afford any suitable housing in the very city that I grew up in. For my family, it seemed as if we would forever be in a circle of poverty. Fortunately, I was able to move out of the family shelter and into a stable home thanks to this voucher. I did not have to worry about my rent being more than my income. I did not have to worry about facing homelessness again. And I did not have to worry about where my family and I would lay our heads or if we would even be able to be together. This was an opportunity for me to move forward in a positive way in spite of all the set-backs.

Mayor Gray, please reconsider any ideas you may have about discontinuing this vital program. There is a major lack of affordable housing in the District. There are many families whose dynamics are very similar to what mine were. For these families, as it was for me, this voucher could be the segue out of poverty and homelessness. It could and would provide for that single mother or father an opportunity to give their child a stable home. It could provide an opportunity for a single mother or father to be gainfully employed or to even return to school without having to worry about how the rent will be paid on a limited income. It is nearly impossible to succeed without the comfort of knowing that you will have a safe, secure, stable, and affordable place for you and your family.

I am hopeful that you will take into consideration what our homeless situation may look like if the decision is made to not fund LRSP. It not only affects me on a personal level but from a professional perspective as well. I work at the Washington Legal Clinic for the Homeless and daily I receive calls from clients who are working, be it part-time or full-time, and who can barely scrape by. The threat of eviction looms constantly over them. A program like LRSP would be ideal for these people, just as it was for me.

Finally, as a District resident I am truly shocked that the Mayor is even considering shutting down or reducing funding to this program. However, I remain hopeful that this is just a passing idea and that he will see how vital a program like LRSP is for the constituents he was voted into office to serve.

We hope everyone stayed safe and inside during the storm. As we all worry about the safety of our friends and families, deal with power outages, and wonder if the roads and public transit will have delays or get us to work on time, DC residents who are homeless have far graver concerns.

Without question, men, women, and children who are homeless are at increased risk of serious harm when a storm like Sandy hits. While the rest of us are concerned about flooding in our basements, these residents are worried about actual trees and power lines falling on them as they struggle to find a safe place to take shelter from the storm. Sleeping out on the street is dangerous on a night when the weather is calm and temperatures are mild; it is exponentially more life-threatening when faced with torrential rains, near freezing temperatures, and wind gusts of over 60 miles per hour.

Natural disasters have a way of bringing communities together. Neighbors who may have never spoken more than two words to each other beforehand will reach out to express concern about one another’s safety and offer help. Underlying that concern is the feeling that no one should have to live without basic needs like food and shelter being met. As a community, it’s time for us to channel this same empathy towards our homeless neighbors who essentially live under disaster conditions every day, without access to adequate food, shelter, or heat.

Under DC law, there is only a right to shelter under “severe weather conditions,” which are defined narrowly as “whenever the actual or forecasted temperature, including the wind chill factor or heat index, falls below 32 degrees Fahrenheit or rises above 95 degrees Fahrenheit.” This means that there’s no right to shelter during a hurricane like Sandy unless the forecasted temperature is also freezing.  If this doesn’t sound right to you, it’s because it isn’t.

For the last two days, low-barrier shelters and recreation centers were kept open during the day and through the night for those who needed shelter from the storm. Because forecasted temperatures were freezing both Monday and Tuesday, the city called a hypothermia alert at night, which means that any residents who needed shelter should have had access to it while the alert was on by calling the city’s shelter hotline at 1-800-535-7252. The city responded with an appropriate sense of urgency in assuring that everyone who needed it had access to a place that was safe and dry during the storm. That same sense of urgency should be carried into addressing the ongoing storm of poverty and lack of affordable housing in the District year-round.

Keeping DC residents safe when storms like Sandy catch us off-guard is one reason the District must always maintain adequate emergency shelter space, and why the right to shelter should be expanded past nights when the temperatures are freezing, as freezing temperatures are not the only threat to health and safety. But having sufficient emergency shelter isn’t enough. As a city, we must also prioritize the creation and preservation of long-term affordable housing so that no DC residents are ever forced to stay outside and be exposed to the elements during inclement weather or otherwise.

Today and going forward into the next several cold months, please take note of the shelter hotline number above, and if you see someone outside who needs shelter assistance, tell them about the hotline or help them call if they don’t have access to a phone. Operators of the hotline have information about shelters and day programs, and can also send out a hotline van to assist those who cannot safely get to a shelter location on their own or who need other resources, like food, medical care, or blankets.

That number again is 1-800-535-7252. Take a few seconds to program the number into your phone. It could help you save a life this winter.

To mark the end of National Pro Bono Week, we’d like to thank our amazing volunteer attorneys, whose steadfast advocacy on behalf of low and no income residents allows the Legal Clinic to provide representation to thousands of clients each year and to engage in transformative systemic litigation. As a direct result of the contributions of these attorneys and their dedication to pro bono work, our most vulnerable neighbors are able to access justice in the District of Columbia. 

The following was written by one of our outstanding volunteer attorneys, Paul Lee.

Representing the homeless or near homeless is not easy. It’s not glamorous. It can be downright frustrating. So why would anyone do this work, and, on top of that, do it for free? For one reason, it’s incredibly rewarding to help a family get a grasp on the most basic of all functions—living. But here’s another reason: because as challenging as it can be to represent people on the brink of homelessness, it’s a thousand times more exasperating to be the single mother living behind a church with her 18-month-old child as the temperature each night gets colder than the last. Or to be the woman struggling with bi-polar disorder, who gets kicked out of a housing program because she just can’t seem to “play by the rules.” Or to be the undocumented family about to lose their home, that can’t comprehend the English-only pamphlet on emergency shelters.  These are the people who have nowhere to turn, no refuge in which to find safety, and almost no one to lend them a helping hand.

These are all clients that my firm, Dechert LLP, has represented through the Washington Legal Clinic for the Homeless’ legal intake site at the Virginia Williams Family Resource Center (FRC). The FRC is where any family facing homelessness in the District can go to apply for shelter and other services. They sit patiently in the waiting room, sometimes for six, eight, twelve hours at a time, hoping that a spot at DC General, the former hospital now converted into a family shelter, will open up.  That spot often never opens up, and the family must return the next day to give it another shot.  That is what happened to one of our clients, a single mother who slept behind a Catholic church in Southeast DC every night over the summer, often with her 18-month old child. They’d ride the bus as long as they could to avoid getting picked up by the police for loitering. Recently, as the temperature got colder and colder each night, that mother came to FRC desperate for shelter. After weeks of being told there was nothing available, she met us through intake and we were able to advocate with DC government officials on her behalf.  She was finally placed at DC General with her daughter. Dealing with bureaucracy and lack of space was a tough obstacle, but one that would have been virtually impossible to overcome without pro bono counsel.

We also represented a woman at a shelter who suffered from severe bi-polar disorder. Her mood swings would be marginally controlled by medication, but she would tell me about her “bad days” when she fought so hard to “keep it together,” some days successfully, other days not. She had trouble keeping her room at the housing program clean, and sometimes had abrasive encounters with fellow residents. The housing program, which was fully aware of her mental health needs, did nothing to work with her. Instead of helping her figure out what medication dosage was right for her, or giving her an extra day to get her possessions out of the hallway, they wrote out citations and penalties and eventually tried to force her out onto the streets. I represented her at a hearing before the DC Office of Administrative Hearings, where my client nervously, but eloquently explained her struggle with bi-polar disorder, and how she wanted so badly to do her best but on some days, it was just too hard.  Even on the day of the trial, I could see my client breathing deeply and gripping the edge of table behind which we were sitting, doing everything we practiced in our prep sessions to make sure she did not lose her cool in front of the judge. We were able to buy her enough time for her to move into another apartment, one that allows her more flexibility and freedom to live in peace.

Finally, I recall another intake session where I met a Hispanic man sitting in the lobby with his 8-year-old son. I quickly ascertained that the man was undocumented and spoke only Spanish, but the boy was fluent in English. They were staring blankly at a pamphlet about emergency shelter options that had been given to them by the front desk staff at FRC. The father could not read (in English or in Spanish, I later found out).  The son, remarkably bright for his age, could pronounce the pamphlet’s words in English, but didn’t understand what complex terms like “landlord-tenant” and “hypothermia” meant. The staff had asked the boy to “translate” it for his father, and then have his father sign the back. I asked the boy if he had any siblings, and he said he had a younger sister, who was seven. I asked the precocious boy where his sister was, and he said she was in school. I then asked him why she was in school that day and he was not. He looked up at me, with a look in his eyes that was somehow both proud and sad, and said, “My dad told me I had to come help him talk to the homeless shelter people.” My heart just about dropped on the floor – this courageous kid was missing out on his education because his dad wanted him to help him navigate the convoluted government systems designed to keep his entire family from becoming homeless. This was an unbelievable responsibility placed on his small shoulders. I helped translate the pamphlet for them and gave them our business card. The family did not have a functioning phone, so I told them to call me when they got a chance. They never did. To this day, I still wonder if that family was able to survive, find a place, and avoid becoming homeless. I know for sure that the little boy would have given it his all to help his family. What I don’t know is if it was enough.