A. came to the U.S. in 2002 to marry a man that she had never met. "It was an arranged marriage," she says. "I'm from Pakistan and that's how it happens in my country."
It soon became clear that her new husband had lied about many things, including his income. "He told my parents he was well-to-do but he was only earning $30,000, working for his cousin," A. says. "He told them that he had already applied for his green card so my parents thought that I would get one too." Instead, A. was admitted on a dependent visa, which prevented her from working. "I was completely dependent on him for everything," she says.
Worst of all, he was a brute--physically and emotionally abusive. A. told no one. Her parents were far away and could not help her. She knew no one in the United States save for an aunt who lived hundreds of miles away. "I tried for three years with him," she says softly. "In our country, girls have to hope in the beginning with a man,"
After their son was born in 2005, her husband's behavior grew more abusive. He cursed her and their son and when the child was two months old, he kicked her out of their home. He refused to let her take their son and when she refused to leave without him, "he choked me." For the first time, she called 911--and her aunt, who agreed to come and pick her up. "I never did that before in three years," A. says. "Even at that time I didn't do it for myself, but because he was not taking my son from me."
Her husband retaliated by canceling her debit card, and shifting all their money to an account in Pakistan. "He left me with nothing," she says. "He also withdrew my green card application straight away."
A. husband filed for divorce and sued for custody of their child. When American courts awarded custody to A., her former husband returned to Pakistan. "He left because he didn't want to pay child support," she says.
A. was stranded. Still unable to work legally, she lived with her aunt for two years while trying to sort out her options. Because her son is an American citizen, she was able to get food stamps and medical assistance for him, though as an immigrant she herself is not eligible for any kind of public assistance.
She was in limbo, unable to return to her family in Pakistan because her ex-husband has filed for custody of their son there too and "in Pakistan, men generally get the custody." She will very likely also be in physical danger if she returns given her ex-husband's violence and the lack of legal protection for women.
A's visa was due to expire in 2008. She appealed to legislators and immigration officials to help her remain in this country. She applied for asylum but her application was denied. "They said asylum is not for me because my case is not political, but personal."
She was at least granted a work permit and is now teaching at her son's school. "That's how I am holding myself," A. says. "But I don't have any health care" because she cannot afford the policy offered to teachers at the school. "I have to pay for his tuition and my apartment and utilities and everything. I am not earning that much and I have so many costs. It's hard."
A.'s parents send her money when they can. "That's how I am surviving." She has not seen her family in five years. She would like to meet them in a neutral location but according to the terms of her visa, she cannot leave the country. "If I leave, I cannot come back," she says. "Because of him [her son] I stay."
Nonetheless, she is grateful to the United States. "This country, they helped me a lot," she says. "I thank God that this happened here. Everybody supported me and now immigration has at least provided me this much, that I can stay here."
But she will not feel secure until she gets a green card, she says, and that is impossible without a sponsor, someone who will agree to be financially responsible for her.
"There should be some immigration policy for women like me," A. says. "Women like me, what should we do?"
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
No Credit for Good Intentions
Sylvia works full-time and she makes a decent living. She can well afford to rent an apartment or townhouse. But no one will rent to her because "in this economy," she says, "everyone is running credit reports." And her credit right now does not look good.
This time last year Sylvia was engaged and living with her fiancee and her three teenage children in an apartment in Prince George's County. "I made a decision to get married and it didn't work out," she says, "I should never have moved into an apartment I couldn't afford by myself."
When her fiance packed up, he left her with bills she couldn't afford to pay alone. "Every month I was late paying something. It got to the point that I just couldn't keep the apartment. Before they could evict me, I moved out and put my stuff in storage."
PG county social services told her that they couldn't help her so she went to Montgomery County, where she is a government employee. "At this point, we were sleeping in the car," she says. "Montgomery DSS told me to go back to PG county."
A friend told her that he knew someone who was renting a basement. The situation was not ideal--there were animal feces in the house, she says, and the landlady's behavior was "funky"--but she took it anyway because they had nowhere else to go. "I got the kids in school under the homeless act," she says, "and I was trying to pay off my debts so I could get my own place. But I hadn't got to paying off the apartment yet. I still owe them $2000 odd dollars."
Sylvia's new landlady was negligent in many ways including paying her own bills. "The third time the water got cut off and I complained, she told me if I didn't like it to get out." Instead, Sylvia called the county which came out for an inspection. "They condemned the basement I was living in because if a fire starts on the first floor, we'd have no way to get out."
Once again, Sylvia and her children were homeless. This time, Montgomery DSS agreed to put the family up in a hotel if she provided documentation of hardship. She needed a couple of days to pull together the paperwork and put her possessions back into storage. "I had to be humble enough to share with my supervisor that I'm homeless and that I needed a couple of days off from work and ask him not to spread it around the job," she says. "It's embarassing. Humiliating."
"But you just thank God that you've got something over your head," she says, "that you are not sleeping in a car anymore."
In the six weeks Sylvia and her family have been living in Comfort Inn, she has found that living in a hotel is no vacation. "You can't cook so you have to buy breakfast, lunch and dinner. That's sixty bucks a day. Then gas for all the running around to look at apartments. I go out to look every day after work at 9 and I'm getting into bed at 10 or 11 at night. And it's $25 or $30 for each application. Then you realize that everybody is running your credit. And your credit score is steadily dropping down. And you're getting no, no, no. You're exhausting all your money between eating, gas and applications."
Between working full-time, looking at apartments every day, being a parent to teenagers shattered by the turn their lives have taken, and taking twice-weekly urine tests to comply with DSS rules, "I am physically and mentally exhausted," she says.
The other shoe dropped when Sylvia's caseworker told her she had bad news--new county regulations prohibit funding hotel stays for longer than thirty days. "The good news is that I'm finished with the urine tests," Sylvia snorts.
She is still looking for an apartment. She says that she has tried being honest with landlords and management companies about the chain of events that messed up her credit, but promises cut no ice with wary businessmen who have been burned in the past by renters. "They say, we appreciate your being honest with us. But what we need is somebody consistently showing that they've paid their rent."
Her caseworker suggested that she just stay on at the hotel, paying her own rent until she finds something. But that would cost $99/night. "That's $700 a week," Sylvia points out, for one room and no kitchen.
She does not qualify for HOC housing programs because she makes too much money. "You talking about $11 an hour to qualify," she says. "I make $18."
All she wants, Sylvia says, is a voucher to get her into an apartment so that landlords have some assurance that they will be paid. She doesn't need cash assistance, just a voucher. "I didn't ask for a check. I didn't ask for food stamps. I didn't ask for Section 8. I asked for some kind of assistance until I can get something myself. Working people that are trying to help themselves just need a little help. We shouldn't fall through the cracks. "
This time last year Sylvia was engaged and living with her fiancee and her three teenage children in an apartment in Prince George's County. "I made a decision to get married and it didn't work out," she says, "I should never have moved into an apartment I couldn't afford by myself."
When her fiance packed up, he left her with bills she couldn't afford to pay alone. "Every month I was late paying something. It got to the point that I just couldn't keep the apartment. Before they could evict me, I moved out and put my stuff in storage."
PG county social services told her that they couldn't help her so she went to Montgomery County, where she is a government employee. "At this point, we were sleeping in the car," she says. "Montgomery DSS told me to go back to PG county."
A friend told her that he knew someone who was renting a basement. The situation was not ideal--there were animal feces in the house, she says, and the landlady's behavior was "funky"--but she took it anyway because they had nowhere else to go. "I got the kids in school under the homeless act," she says, "and I was trying to pay off my debts so I could get my own place. But I hadn't got to paying off the apartment yet. I still owe them $2000 odd dollars."
Sylvia's new landlady was negligent in many ways including paying her own bills. "The third time the water got cut off and I complained, she told me if I didn't like it to get out." Instead, Sylvia called the county which came out for an inspection. "They condemned the basement I was living in because if a fire starts on the first floor, we'd have no way to get out."
Once again, Sylvia and her children were homeless. This time, Montgomery DSS agreed to put the family up in a hotel if she provided documentation of hardship. She needed a couple of days to pull together the paperwork and put her possessions back into storage. "I had to be humble enough to share with my supervisor that I'm homeless and that I needed a couple of days off from work and ask him not to spread it around the job," she says. "It's embarassing. Humiliating."
"But you just thank God that you've got something over your head," she says, "that you are not sleeping in a car anymore."
In the six weeks Sylvia and her family have been living in Comfort Inn, she has found that living in a hotel is no vacation. "You can't cook so you have to buy breakfast, lunch and dinner. That's sixty bucks a day. Then gas for all the running around to look at apartments. I go out to look every day after work at 9 and I'm getting into bed at 10 or 11 at night. And it's $25 or $30 for each application. Then you realize that everybody is running your credit. And your credit score is steadily dropping down. And you're getting no, no, no. You're exhausting all your money between eating, gas and applications."
Between working full-time, looking at apartments every day, being a parent to teenagers shattered by the turn their lives have taken, and taking twice-weekly urine tests to comply with DSS rules, "I am physically and mentally exhausted," she says.
The other shoe dropped when Sylvia's caseworker told her she had bad news--new county regulations prohibit funding hotel stays for longer than thirty days. "The good news is that I'm finished with the urine tests," Sylvia snorts.
She is still looking for an apartment. She says that she has tried being honest with landlords and management companies about the chain of events that messed up her credit, but promises cut no ice with wary businessmen who have been burned in the past by renters. "They say, we appreciate your being honest with us. But what we need is somebody consistently showing that they've paid their rent."
Her caseworker suggested that she just stay on at the hotel, paying her own rent until she finds something. But that would cost $99/night. "That's $700 a week," Sylvia points out, for one room and no kitchen.
She does not qualify for HOC housing programs because she makes too much money. "You talking about $11 an hour to qualify," she says. "I make $18."
All she wants, Sylvia says, is a voucher to get her into an apartment so that landlords have some assurance that they will be paid. She doesn't need cash assistance, just a voucher. "I didn't ask for a check. I didn't ask for food stamps. I didn't ask for Section 8. I asked for some kind of assistance until I can get something myself. Working people that are trying to help themselves just need a little help. We shouldn't fall through the cracks. "
A Good Job is Hard to Find
Carolyn has been on seventeen job interviews and at the end of each session she hears much the same thing. Thank you. We'll be in touch.
"I went to one on Monday and the man told me he put the job on Craigslist and he had over 300 applications. I have my degree in accounting and everything he needed I can do. But the other people have the same experiences, the same everything. It's just so much competition. We're all," she says, "hungry for a job."
Since she was laid off from her previous job as an administrative assistant four months ago, Carolyn has been looking for work. "I got a temp assignment for like a month but after that it all went downhill."
At first she looked for jobs in her field, billing, but at this point she's willing to take any job at all. "I'm ready to go to McDonalds, Best Buy, anything to put food on the table."
Her job search has become more difficult since she lost her car. "I gave it back to the bank rather than have them take it away," she says, thinking that it wouldn't look so bad on her credit report.
Now she walks or takes public transportation, spending most of her days riding the bus to and from interviews. Her decreased mobility has narrowed the pool of potential jobs even further.
"I'm signed up with a list of temp agencies and I got a call this morning from one of them but the job was in Frederick. If I had a car, I could have taken it," she says. "But even if I had a car, where am I gonna get the money for gas?"
A couple of months ago Carolyn applied for public assistance "for the first time in my life," she says. "I didn't know what else to do." She was approved for medicare and food stamps, but it took six weeks to get into the system. During that time she visited food pantries. "They don't give you a lot," she says--particularly when you are feeding a teenage son. "It doesn't last more than a few days."
She just learned that she has been turned down for temporary cash assistance, which would have helped her pay her rent this month. "This is my first month I'm going to be late," she says. "Because I've always worked, paid my bills." She has filed an appeal, but even if she wins the appeal, without a job she will be facing the same situation next month.
"Even if they help me for one month, what if I still don't get a job," she says. "I'm out here every day applying for jobs, but nothing is coming through."
Her caseworker had one bit of advice. "She said I'd better look into getting into a shelter. She gave me a list."
"I went to one on Monday and the man told me he put the job on Craigslist and he had over 300 applications. I have my degree in accounting and everything he needed I can do. But the other people have the same experiences, the same everything. It's just so much competition. We're all," she says, "hungry for a job."
Since she was laid off from her previous job as an administrative assistant four months ago, Carolyn has been looking for work. "I got a temp assignment for like a month but after that it all went downhill."
At first she looked for jobs in her field, billing, but at this point she's willing to take any job at all. "I'm ready to go to McDonalds, Best Buy, anything to put food on the table."
Her job search has become more difficult since she lost her car. "I gave it back to the bank rather than have them take it away," she says, thinking that it wouldn't look so bad on her credit report.
Now she walks or takes public transportation, spending most of her days riding the bus to and from interviews. Her decreased mobility has narrowed the pool of potential jobs even further.
"I'm signed up with a list of temp agencies and I got a call this morning from one of them but the job was in Frederick. If I had a car, I could have taken it," she says. "But even if I had a car, where am I gonna get the money for gas?"
A couple of months ago Carolyn applied for public assistance "for the first time in my life," she says. "I didn't know what else to do." She was approved for medicare and food stamps, but it took six weeks to get into the system. During that time she visited food pantries. "They don't give you a lot," she says--particularly when you are feeding a teenage son. "It doesn't last more than a few days."
She just learned that she has been turned down for temporary cash assistance, which would have helped her pay her rent this month. "This is my first month I'm going to be late," she says. "Because I've always worked, paid my bills." She has filed an appeal, but even if she wins the appeal, without a job she will be facing the same situation next month.
"Even if they help me for one month, what if I still don't get a job," she says. "I'm out here every day applying for jobs, but nothing is coming through."
Her caseworker had one bit of advice. "She said I'd better look into getting into a shelter. She gave me a list."
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Still Haunted by an Old Mistake
Job offer rescinded after background check
Ten years ago, D. made a mistake. She bought a car for a longtime boyfriend who was, she says, involved in illegal activities. "I was young," she says. "That's where it was at."
The boyfriend was arrested and the D.A. wanted her to testify against him, which she refused to do. "The government had numerous people to testify against him," she says. "My thought was if you are going to arrest him and throw away the key, what do you need me there as icing on the cake or something. I still got to live after this. I got a child here. So I didn’t do it but months later here comes the indictment."
D. was charged with intention to commit money laundering--punishment, she believes, for refusing to testify. She accepted a plea bargain, mostly "in desperation, to say okay let me move on with my life."
She served six months in a boot camp and six months in a halfway house. The experience changed her. "They would put us in the back of those woods with all kinds of everything back there and give you an ax and you had to cut that tree down. Because they were building houses or something. That was what your job was. And you had to sit on the side of the road and eat egg sandwiches or whatever your lunch was for that day and be treated like you are pretty much the scum of the earth."
The goal of the program was, she says, "to break you down and then build you back up." And for her at least, it worked. "For me it got down into the depths and lifted up. It was a very spiritual thing for me."
After her release, D. started rebuilding her life, eventually finding her way to a successful and demanding career in the mortgage industry. "I did that grind and I did that hard work to build myself…to watch it all crumble in front of your face is awful."
Last year D. lost her job due to the recession and collapse of the mortgage market. As she searched for work, she watched her savings dwindle. "I have a home and the money that I had saved up for my child’s college because I’m his only resource…gone! I had to use it to pay my mortgage and my bills for the last six or seven months."
Finally, she was offered a job as an administrative assistant for much less money than she had earned previously. "It wasn’t even anything that could reach my bills but it was a start," she says, "a foot in the door."
But the first day when she showed up for work, "I was told that I needed to come back because the person didn’t have their scheduling together. That was on a Friday and I left. Went through the whole weekend and then Tuesday about 3:15, I got a call from the person who made me the offer. She said, well there was some issues that came back on your background."
D. explained that the situation had happened ten years ago, in 1999, and since then not only had she never been in trouble of any kind, she had actually been licensed by the state as a finance officer. The woman said that she would take that information back to the manager and call her back.
"So I waited and I waited and I waited," D. says. "And about 8 o’clock that night, I checked my email and she had emailed me about 3:40 to say ‘due to your background, unfortunately we have to rescind the offer.’"
D. is outraged that despite her years of hard work, she is still being judged by a mistake that she made when she was barely out of her teens. And she's not the only one, she points out. "I see kids out here that get themselves into crazy situations with no chance. There are people out here who can’t even get a good job with a four year degree because of past things."
D. has tried unsuccessfully to have the conviction expunged--"but I can't because it's a felony," she says. She is once again looking for work which is harder for her and other ex-offenders than it ought to be, she says, particularly when a conviction is so far in the past.
"I did my mistakes. I learned from them. I took the hard road. I have the scars today to prove it. But I was able to give my son something different," she says. "I’ve been dealing with this for a long time and now is the time to take a stand on it. Because I think the laws are just wrong. People judge you without even knowing anything. Just pass judgement. That’s kind of where I am right now."
Ten years ago, D. made a mistake. She bought a car for a longtime boyfriend who was, she says, involved in illegal activities. "I was young," she says. "That's where it was at."
The boyfriend was arrested and the D.A. wanted her to testify against him, which she refused to do. "The government had numerous people to testify against him," she says. "My thought was if you are going to arrest him and throw away the key, what do you need me there as icing on the cake or something. I still got to live after this. I got a child here. So I didn’t do it but months later here comes the indictment."
D. was charged with intention to commit money laundering--punishment, she believes, for refusing to testify. She accepted a plea bargain, mostly "in desperation, to say okay let me move on with my life."
She served six months in a boot camp and six months in a halfway house. The experience changed her. "They would put us in the back of those woods with all kinds of everything back there and give you an ax and you had to cut that tree down. Because they were building houses or something. That was what your job was. And you had to sit on the side of the road and eat egg sandwiches or whatever your lunch was for that day and be treated like you are pretty much the scum of the earth."
The goal of the program was, she says, "to break you down and then build you back up." And for her at least, it worked. "For me it got down into the depths and lifted up. It was a very spiritual thing for me."
After her release, D. started rebuilding her life, eventually finding her way to a successful and demanding career in the mortgage industry. "I did that grind and I did that hard work to build myself…to watch it all crumble in front of your face is awful."
Last year D. lost her job due to the recession and collapse of the mortgage market. As she searched for work, she watched her savings dwindle. "I have a home and the money that I had saved up for my child’s college because I’m his only resource…gone! I had to use it to pay my mortgage and my bills for the last six or seven months."
Finally, she was offered a job as an administrative assistant for much less money than she had earned previously. "It wasn’t even anything that could reach my bills but it was a start," she says, "a foot in the door."
But the first day when she showed up for work, "I was told that I needed to come back because the person didn’t have their scheduling together. That was on a Friday and I left. Went through the whole weekend and then Tuesday about 3:15, I got a call from the person who made me the offer. She said, well there was some issues that came back on your background."
D. explained that the situation had happened ten years ago, in 1999, and since then not only had she never been in trouble of any kind, she had actually been licensed by the state as a finance officer. The woman said that she would take that information back to the manager and call her back.
"So I waited and I waited and I waited," D. says. "And about 8 o’clock that night, I checked my email and she had emailed me about 3:40 to say ‘due to your background, unfortunately we have to rescind the offer.’"
D. is outraged that despite her years of hard work, she is still being judged by a mistake that she made when she was barely out of her teens. And she's not the only one, she points out. "I see kids out here that get themselves into crazy situations with no chance. There are people out here who can’t even get a good job with a four year degree because of past things."
D. has tried unsuccessfully to have the conviction expunged--"but I can't because it's a felony," she says. She is once again looking for work which is harder for her and other ex-offenders than it ought to be, she says, particularly when a conviction is so far in the past.
"I did my mistakes. I learned from them. I took the hard road. I have the scars today to prove it. But I was able to give my son something different," she says. "I’ve been dealing with this for a long time and now is the time to take a stand on it. Because I think the laws are just wrong. People judge you without even knowing anything. Just pass judgement. That’s kind of where I am right now."
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Dominoes
A car accident leads to disability and homelessness for mother and daughter
"In this country, once you get sick you're finished," says Sherri.
At 53, she has been homeless for the past year with her 25 year old daughter Michelle, bankrupted by the high costs of medical care.
Both women are well-educated. Sherri has medical and law degrees and Michelle is a graduate of George Washington University. But the auto accident that left Sherri with a severely damaged spinal cord and bedridden for nearly five years inexorably led them to the streets.
After a serious auto accident in 1997, doctors "basically rebuilt my spinal cord," Sherri says. She's had six major surgeries and innumerable smaller procedures over the past twelve years. At one point, she was paying, she says, "thousands of dollars a month for medication. One prescription was $800 per month and I had 18 prescriptions."
Sherri owned a home in Michigan which she sold. She moved to Maryland to purchase a home with her sister. But her monthly disability check was not enough to pay the mortgage and they lost the house. She and her daughter then rented an apartment but were evicted in June 2008. Since then, they have floated between public and private shelters, friend's apartments and the streets.
Homelessness is tough on anyone but for the disabled it is nearly unendurable. "You have to get out of most shelters at 5:45 every morning," Sherri says. "It doesn't matter if you are sick or well."
They spend most of their day in libraries and parks. "Just hanging around basically," Sherri says. "Because there's no place to sleep at night, you wind up sleeping a lot during the day."
They've slept on the deck of their old house, which is still unoccupied. They've stayed with friends. "Every once in a while we get a motel room, just to regroup, do laundry, shower, get stuff together."
One of the reasons they have been living on the street since the weather turned warm is that in shelters they are often separated. Michelle is her mother's PCA (personal care assistant) but that doesn't cut any ice with some providers. "They get frustrated that we want to stay together," says Michelle.
"The doctor told me that I need someone with me all the time," says Sherri. "They would have to pay for someone but she is doing it for free. But we're not even considered family," since Michelle is an adult.
Sherri has the misfortune of being a member of two groups that are not very well served by safety net programs--the disabled and single women. "They are the most neglected," she says.
She has been referred to shelters that are three floors up, and she has been harassed by staff members because she is not able to do chores. At one private shelter, she was ill one Saturday and wanted to stay in bed. "They threatened to call the police if I didn't get out of bed and do my chore," she says.
More generally, "shelter discriminate against you if you have physical disabilities," she says. "They have told us, 'because you are physically disabled, it's going to be hard to get you help.' We've been told that over and over again."
As single women, Sherri and Michelle have also had trouble accessing assistance. "If you have children, you can get help," says Sherri. "But as a single woman, you get the least amount of services."
She recently visited the office of aging and disability services for help. "I told them that I couldn't be out on the streets anymore and that I couldn't climb three flights of stairs at the shelter. My arms and legs are swelling--I have autonomic dysfunction and my blood pressure is sky-high. I'm exhausted."
While filling out the application form, the counselor asked Sherri about her hobbies. The question struck her as beside the point.
"I said, 'well I used to have hobbies but now I'm just trying to survive from day to day.' But she didn't write that down."
"In this country, once you get sick you're finished," says Sherri.
At 53, she has been homeless for the past year with her 25 year old daughter Michelle, bankrupted by the high costs of medical care.
Both women are well-educated. Sherri has medical and law degrees and Michelle is a graduate of George Washington University. But the auto accident that left Sherri with a severely damaged spinal cord and bedridden for nearly five years inexorably led them to the streets.
After a serious auto accident in 1997, doctors "basically rebuilt my spinal cord," Sherri says. She's had six major surgeries and innumerable smaller procedures over the past twelve years. At one point, she was paying, she says, "thousands of dollars a month for medication. One prescription was $800 per month and I had 18 prescriptions."
Sherri owned a home in Michigan which she sold. She moved to Maryland to purchase a home with her sister. But her monthly disability check was not enough to pay the mortgage and they lost the house. She and her daughter then rented an apartment but were evicted in June 2008. Since then, they have floated between public and private shelters, friend's apartments and the streets.
Homelessness is tough on anyone but for the disabled it is nearly unendurable. "You have to get out of most shelters at 5:45 every morning," Sherri says. "It doesn't matter if you are sick or well."
They spend most of their day in libraries and parks. "Just hanging around basically," Sherri says. "Because there's no place to sleep at night, you wind up sleeping a lot during the day."
They've slept on the deck of their old house, which is still unoccupied. They've stayed with friends. "Every once in a while we get a motel room, just to regroup, do laundry, shower, get stuff together."
One of the reasons they have been living on the street since the weather turned warm is that in shelters they are often separated. Michelle is her mother's PCA (personal care assistant) but that doesn't cut any ice with some providers. "They get frustrated that we want to stay together," says Michelle.
"The doctor told me that I need someone with me all the time," says Sherri. "They would have to pay for someone but she is doing it for free. But we're not even considered family," since Michelle is an adult.
Sherri has the misfortune of being a member of two groups that are not very well served by safety net programs--the disabled and single women. "They are the most neglected," she says.
She has been referred to shelters that are three floors up, and she has been harassed by staff members because she is not able to do chores. At one private shelter, she was ill one Saturday and wanted to stay in bed. "They threatened to call the police if I didn't get out of bed and do my chore," she says.
More generally, "shelter discriminate against you if you have physical disabilities," she says. "They have told us, 'because you are physically disabled, it's going to be hard to get you help.' We've been told that over and over again."
As single women, Sherri and Michelle have also had trouble accessing assistance. "If you have children, you can get help," says Sherri. "But as a single woman, you get the least amount of services."
She recently visited the office of aging and disability services for help. "I told them that I couldn't be out on the streets anymore and that I couldn't climb three flights of stairs at the shelter. My arms and legs are swelling--I have autonomic dysfunction and my blood pressure is sky-high. I'm exhausted."
While filling out the application form, the counselor asked Sherri about her hobbies. The question struck her as beside the point.
"I said, 'well I used to have hobbies but now I'm just trying to survive from day to day.' But she didn't write that down."
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Stepping Stones to Self-Sufficiency
Single parent grateful for the safety net
Tonya's ex is supposed to pay $500/month in child support--except that he doesn't.
"It's June already and since January I've only seen two payments," she says. "He's moved on."
The Child Support Enforcement Assistance Program has not been very helpful because the father is self-employed, making it difficult for the state to garnish his wages. "They don't have a system in place for people like him," she says.
Tonya's ex's failure to pay child support regularly has had a disastrous effect on her ability to pay bills and support herself and their daughter. "If the child support was consistent, I could muster by and make a living for us," she says. "But because the child support payments were not consistent I had to take money out of my paycheck to make my car payment and so I started falling behind and the car was repossessed. I couldn't get to work so I wound up resigning."
After trying to work full-time and running into trouble with transportation and child care, Tonya began working as a substitute teacher and temp worker. But since she never knows how many hours she will work in a week, her child care vouchers are constantly at risk.
"Even if I get approved for one month, I could lose the voucher the next month if my hours drop," she says. "I've seen a lot of other people go through that too."
She thinks that child care vouchers should be available no matter how many hours a person is working. "Even if it's only 5 or 10 hours, that mother is trying," she says. "Unless you know somebody [who can babysit for free] these programs are what you have to fall back on."
Tonya lives in the city of Rockville and receives rental assistance from the city as well as food stamps, energy assistance and other state and federal safety net programs. "They have been very helpful," she says, "because they estimate that to live here you need close to $70,000 for a family of 2."
When she was on her own, Tonya says, "I didn't have a problem because it was just me and I could go and work two jobs." But that is no longer possible because of her parental responsibilities. She is grateful for the programs which have enabled her to survive until her daughter is in school and she can begin working full-time again.
"It's a stepping stone," she says. "It helps you get to that next level."
Tonya's ex is supposed to pay $500/month in child support--except that he doesn't.
"It's June already and since January I've only seen two payments," she says. "He's moved on."
The Child Support Enforcement Assistance Program has not been very helpful because the father is self-employed, making it difficult for the state to garnish his wages. "They don't have a system in place for people like him," she says.
Tonya's ex's failure to pay child support regularly has had a disastrous effect on her ability to pay bills and support herself and their daughter. "If the child support was consistent, I could muster by and make a living for us," she says. "But because the child support payments were not consistent I had to take money out of my paycheck to make my car payment and so I started falling behind and the car was repossessed. I couldn't get to work so I wound up resigning."
After trying to work full-time and running into trouble with transportation and child care, Tonya began working as a substitute teacher and temp worker. But since she never knows how many hours she will work in a week, her child care vouchers are constantly at risk.
"Even if I get approved for one month, I could lose the voucher the next month if my hours drop," she says. "I've seen a lot of other people go through that too."
She thinks that child care vouchers should be available no matter how many hours a person is working. "Even if it's only 5 or 10 hours, that mother is trying," she says. "Unless you know somebody [who can babysit for free] these programs are what you have to fall back on."
Tonya lives in the city of Rockville and receives rental assistance from the city as well as food stamps, energy assistance and other state and federal safety net programs. "They have been very helpful," she says, "because they estimate that to live here you need close to $70,000 for a family of 2."
When she was on her own, Tonya says, "I didn't have a problem because it was just me and I could go and work two jobs." But that is no longer possible because of her parental responsibilities. She is grateful for the programs which have enabled her to survive until her daughter is in school and she can begin working full-time again.
"It's a stepping stone," she says. "It helps you get to that next level."
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
A One Room Family
Losing everything except each other
Nine months after he was laid off from a full-time job as an electronics engineer, Chris and his wife RJ have been evicted twice. Their new car was repossessed. Now they and their one-year old baby are living in a room that they rent from "someone who is already trying my patience," says Chris. "I try not to get into an argument or dispute because I know that it's temporary."
Things started to fall apart for them in the summer of 2008 when Chris' employer started cutting his hours. "At first it was just five hours, go home a little early or whatever. But it go to the point where they were just scheduling me for five hours of work a week," Chris says. "At that point, we started losing everything."
If he were alone, Chris says he could deal with his current situation. "I'm a guy," he says. "I could live in a box truck and be happy." But his wife and son can't live in a truck and the stress of the past year is putting a strain on the marriage.
"We've been together for five years and as God as my witness, we never argued. Now we're arguing. I saw my parents go through that and I don't want to do it."
The stress has also taken a toll on his health. This past spring, Chris was hospitalized for nearly one month due to a liver abcess. He didn't have health insurance because he lost it when he lost his job. The hospital treated him but "they never really gave me a proper diagnosis or told me what caused it," Chris says. He left just as soon as he could. "I lied and told them I was feeling better even though I didn't. I was still throwing up but I thought that I would just take my chances at home."
Chris is uncomfortable with applying for government aid. "I'm the head of the house and it's very embarassing for me to ask for help," he says. His wife convinced him to go to a crisis center in Montgomery County when they were facing their second eviction. The Department of Social Services contributed emergency funds to which they added $1000 of their own money to bring their account current. Three weeks later, they were evicted anyway.
They currently receive food stamps and WIC, but nothing else. "I haven't really spoken with my social worker about the other programs because it's not something I want to pursue," Chris says. "I'd rather spend my time going out to find employment."
But so far, he's come up dry despite his ambition, drive and experience.
"I've been supporting myself since I was 15 years old," he says. "I have skills. I can hook up security systems. I can hook up conferencing systems. I can do lots of things. I think that maybe I haven't presented myself right to employers."
Chris is eligible for unemployment insurance but hasn't applied, he says, "because I know that there's millions more that could use it more than me right now. I'm borderline but until I'm falling over I'm not gonna ask for it."
Nine months after he was laid off from a full-time job as an electronics engineer, Chris and his wife RJ have been evicted twice. Their new car was repossessed. Now they and their one-year old baby are living in a room that they rent from "someone who is already trying my patience," says Chris. "I try not to get into an argument or dispute because I know that it's temporary."
Things started to fall apart for them in the summer of 2008 when Chris' employer started cutting his hours. "At first it was just five hours, go home a little early or whatever. But it go to the point where they were just scheduling me for five hours of work a week," Chris says. "At that point, we started losing everything."
If he were alone, Chris says he could deal with his current situation. "I'm a guy," he says. "I could live in a box truck and be happy." But his wife and son can't live in a truck and the stress of the past year is putting a strain on the marriage.
"We've been together for five years and as God as my witness, we never argued. Now we're arguing. I saw my parents go through that and I don't want to do it."
The stress has also taken a toll on his health. This past spring, Chris was hospitalized for nearly one month due to a liver abcess. He didn't have health insurance because he lost it when he lost his job. The hospital treated him but "they never really gave me a proper diagnosis or told me what caused it," Chris says. He left just as soon as he could. "I lied and told them I was feeling better even though I didn't. I was still throwing up but I thought that I would just take my chances at home."
Chris is uncomfortable with applying for government aid. "I'm the head of the house and it's very embarassing for me to ask for help," he says. His wife convinced him to go to a crisis center in Montgomery County when they were facing their second eviction. The Department of Social Services contributed emergency funds to which they added $1000 of their own money to bring their account current. Three weeks later, they were evicted anyway.
They currently receive food stamps and WIC, but nothing else. "I haven't really spoken with my social worker about the other programs because it's not something I want to pursue," Chris says. "I'd rather spend my time going out to find employment."
But so far, he's come up dry despite his ambition, drive and experience.
"I've been supporting myself since I was 15 years old," he says. "I have skills. I can hook up security systems. I can hook up conferencing systems. I can do lots of things. I think that maybe I haven't presented myself right to employers."
Chris is eligible for unemployment insurance but hasn't applied, he says, "because I know that there's millions more that could use it more than me right now. I'm borderline but until I'm falling over I'm not gonna ask for it."
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