From the Jewish Journal: The Invisible Student: A Tale of Homelessness at UCLA and USC

Last year, Kaitlin* was an energetic undergraduate at the University of Southern California (USC). With a double major in business and international relations, she’s intelligent, engaging and intuitive.

In fact, Kaitlin looked like many other young women at USC, with a stack of books in her backpack, a youthful energy that’s as much a testament to her age as it is to the Southern California spirit and a group of close, studious girlfriends who talked and laughed while scrolling on their phones and walking to class.

There was only one difference between Kaitlin and her peers: Last year, Kaitlin was almost homeless.

On a sunny afternoon in March, Kaitlin, dressed in the Trojan colors of gold and cardinal, stopped to gaze at the famous globe that sits atop the School of International Relations. It inspired her to make travel plans, though she’s never traveled anywhere “for fun.”

She tied back her long, blonde hair and walked past another building where one of her former professors held office hours to meet with students. That professor, Kaitlin recalled, was the one who let her sleep on her couch when the dormitories closed for the summer, and Kaitlin didn’t have a place to live.

Kaitlin was familiar with nearly every nook and cranny of campus and knew precisely where bathrooms were located inside various buildings. It was in those bathrooms that she pulled large amounts of toilet paper to use as napkins and paper towels throughout the day and as a substitute for menstrual pads — which she couldn’t afford — during her monthly period.

“I always bled through the toilet paper,” she told  the Journal. “It was terrible to walk into class, bleeding through my jeans. I should have tried to find ways to get free pads on campus, but I had so much more on my mind because I was terrified of having to sleep on the street.”

Last year, Kaitlin was one of the 68,000 college students nationwide who are homeless or facing housing insecurity while trying to complete courses, hold down jobs and inch closer toward graduation.

The figures on college homelessness are staggering, particularly in California. In a 2019 report, the Hope Center — a research and policy institute — confirmed that nearly 20% of students enrolled in the Los Angeles Community College District were listed as homeless, and half of the district’s 250,000 students were considered housing insecure. In Oakland’s Peralta Community College District, 84% of students surveyed reported being homeless or housing insecure in 2017.

In addition to community colleges, the California State University (CSU) system is also facing unprecedented levels of student homelessness. A 2015 CSU study estimated that 10% of the school system’s 460,000 students were homeless at schools ranging from Humboldt State to Cal State Long Beach. In the University of California (UC) system, that figure was five percent in 2016.

“‘Homeless college student’ seems like a contradiction in terms,” Wayne State psychology professor Paul Toro told the New York Times in 2017. “If you’re someone who has the wherewithal to get yourself into college, well, of course you should be immune to homelessness. But that just isn’t the case.”

Each of the 68,000 homeless students in the nation has their own story of resilience, fighting their way to a degree as they search for a place to sleep. Here are just a few of their stories:

Kaitlin:

Kaitlin was born to a schizophrenic mother and an alcoholic father in Las Vegas, Nevada. The parents and their six children lived on food stamps, and due to allegations of domestic violence, police were a regular presence in their home. At age ten, Kaitlin was separated from her siblings and placed into foster care, and by the time she was 16, she had moved around to a dozen different homes.

Kaitlin’s relationship with her biological mother, however difficult, was still crucial to her sense of feeling loved and secure. “My mom tried so hard to make our childhood good,” she said. “She would wait in line for hours at the Salvation Army to buy us toys for Christmas, and more than anything, she just wanted to be able to talk to us. But she was mentally ill.”

During her sophomore year of high school, Kaitlin was adopted by a family in Jackson, Mississippi, who, she claims, often “kicked” her out, forcing her to live with friends for weeks at a time. When it came time to apply for college, she had set her sights almost 2,000 miles west of Jackson, at USC.

*Kaitlin, a 2020 graduate of USC who almost became homeless, gazes at a statue of Hecuba, Queen of Troy, at USC Village. Photos by Tabby Refael

“Even if my home life was really bad, I was always going to go to college; that was something I had always known since I was young,” she said.

At USC, Kaitlin qualified for need-based financial aid, but only a few weeks after starting college, her adoptive mother sent her a devastating letter telling her she had been disowned.

“They said that ‘I chose this life,’ meaning leaving Mississippi and coming to California, and they cancelled my health insurance and forced me to send back my modest cell phone,” she said. “Not having a phone like everyone else was really hard, and I badly needed any device with access to Wi-Fi, so I could at least know where my classes were on campus.”

Although USC covered her costs for housing during the first two academic years, Kaitlin soon faced the reality of summer housing. “I couldn’t stay in the dorms any longer, and while everyone else’s parents came to help them move their belongings out, I was alone. I didn’t even have a car, and I put everything I had into some bags, and a kind professor let me stay with her for a few days,” she recalled.

She spent the summer couch-surfing in a 200-square-foot “nasty room over-piled with trash” that belonged to another student, who was soon forced to move out and live in his car because he no longer could afford to pay for housing near USC.

At the start of her junior year, Kaitlin was deeply anxious because she had yet to secure a new job for the year. When her rent for an off-campus apartment was one month overdue, her landlord threatened to evict her.

A representative from a USC support program for former foster children (called Trojan Guardian Scholars) referred Kaitlin to the Jewish Free Loan Association (JFLA) to apply for an immediate loan. Kaitlin’s biggest concern was that she didn’t have a co signer.

With only $3 in her bank account, Kaitlin took a bus to the JFLA office in the Miracle Mile neighborhood. When she received a $1,300 interest-free loan, Kaitlin was overjoyed, but the stress of housing insecurity had begun to take its toll on her academic success.

“I started skipping school because making it to class was the least of my problems,” she said. “I needed to first protect my mental health; I was barely getting by and was living on $10–$15 a week, but I was very resourceful. I bought a few clothes from a local Goodwill, and if having access to a shower was ever an issue, I just didn’t shower.”

JFLA provided critical help in the form of preventative support so Kaitlin wouldn’t find herself homeless. Without a car, her worst fears would have come true.

The organization’s Homeless Student Loan Program was the brainchild of JFLA Executive Director Rachel Grose. Launched in January 2019, it’s the first loan of its kind that doesn’t require a co-signer, and it was exactly what Kaitlin needed to feel a semblance of housing security and continue to attend classes like everyone else.

“Getting through college is hard enough, much less if you are consumed with where you are going to sleep and if you will be safe at night,” Grose told the Journal.

Prevention is at the forefront of JFLA’s services for homeless college students. “The statistics are clear that once a person is on the street, it is much harder to get them back into housing,” said Grose.

In the past year, JFLA has distributed over $121,000 to 21 students, and the repayment rate has stood at an impressive 99%.

Increased poverty as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic has made the work of JFLA more crucial than ever. “In general, we are making many loans for rent,” Grose said. “The homeless situation in general in L.A. is even more precarious now despite the rent moratorium. Our clients continually tell us they are afraid they will be evicted without a loan from JFLA.”

With fewer housing worries, Kaitlin was able to stay in class and in the summer of 2019, she found an internship in the field of banking. This May, she graduated with a bachelor’s degree in international relations and business, and she secured a full-time job at the banking firm where she interned. The job also offers health insurance.

“Senior year was more stable because I had somewhere secure to live,” Kaitlin said. “It was the greatest gift.”