Homelessness Action Week 2011, continued

Stereotypes, stigma and shame confront people in need

Haunted by homelessness

October 14, 2011

By Mike Youds
Daily News Staff Reporter

She's been homeless many times but never lived on the street.

Living among the "hidden homeless" is not an experience Tammy Caza likes to recall, but as a part-time support worker, she uses that knowledge to help others.

She speaks as one who knows, willing to be a voice for those unable to express their needs, but the past always lingers just outside her door.

"At this time last year, I was among the hidden homeless," said the mother of two grown children. "I had a relationship break up and that dual income was gone."

For two months she stayed with a friend, then moved into subsidized housing, but that didn't work out. With signs of violence close at hand, she was too close to the dark past and felt unsafe.

"I knew when I moved in there it was not the right place. It was like I was surrounded by insanity."

The term "hidden homelessness" is used to describe people who cannot afford to obtain safe or appropriate housing. They are hidden because they are not as visible as people living in the street, but there are other reasons why they subsist below the social radar: stereotypes, stigma and a profound sense of shame.

"All these negative voices, they come back to haunt you," Caza said.

In her case, those voices originated in childhood when she was given up for adoption in Ontario. She moved from home to home, one of them an alcoholic household, and was abducted by her biological father at one point. Then she turned 18.

"All of a sudden, I was an adult — from a child in the system to a child on welfare."

Caza was married at 21 but the relationship soon broke apart. That's when she moved to B.C. to make a fresh start. Instead, she started using marijuana regularly and injected cocaine for a couple of years.

"I was always dependent on something but I didn't think I was an addict."

She went clean seven years ago, worked in the hospitality industry, volunteered on the side and obtained her human services diploma from TRU. When the break-up happened, the dread of darkness returned, even as she worked for the Elizabeth Fry Society.

"I was struggling with poverty, struggling with homelessness, but I still have to go to work. Here I'm working with women who are homeless, but I'm still homeless."

Pride and dignity — seen as assets that can help people lift themselves out of the depths — can also be impediments.

"Truth is, I can't go to the food bank. I'm not going to go back there, yet I'm there … So much of it resembles the past and that's what the struggle is with the mental and emotional effects."

She is far from unique. In her work, she encountered many people in similar straights who don't use support services because of the stigma and fear of being stereotyped. Anxieties, chronic depression, disorders and mental illness compound the problem. It can be more difficult for women, she feels.

When her daughter turned 18, some of those supports were gone.

"What does a mom do, still on welfare and her child turns 18? The child doesn't move out but the assistance goes."

The generational cycle is a spectre in itself.

"That worries me, too. As much as I've improved my life, here's my 18-year-old child facing the same challenges."

Caza considers herself fortunate to have had personal resources – her church and her friends — for support. Her current landlord has been compassionate when she couldn't make the rent. She's looking for more work.

"Right now, I'm actually struggling. If it wasn't for the landlord, there's a very good chance I would have wound up homeless."

She feels it is important to speak out so that others know they are not alone.

"They have dignity and pride. They aren't gone, they're just stripped away."