Darlisha Moore and her 13-year-old daughter have been in and out of hotels since January. It makes saving money impossible.
“I never thought in a million years in my hometown, in the state that I grew up in, that I'd be homeless and sleeping in a car,” Moore said.
Moore, 44, is a certified nursing assistant. She works full-time at an assisted living facility in Hampton Roads and makes around $3,000 a month. Still, she can’t afford housing.
Moore has tried getting help, but the answer has been the same for the last eight months: “There’s no resources.”
She tried again one afternoon in late August. The statewide line for non-emergency assistance, 211, sent her an email with possible options. One program in particular looked promising.
“It says Norfolk Hope Village Salvation Army,” Moore said, reading the email. “It's a transitional shelter. Services include transitional shelter for single women or women with one of four children. Residents also receive case management, employment counseling, budget counseling.”
It’s exactly the kind of help she’s been looking for. Eventually, Moore wants to go back to school to become a licensed nursing practitioner. But she needs a lifeline first, and a way out of homelessness.
The phone rang. Moore was wary. A flicker of hope hung in the air between trills.
‘I’m tired’
Available housing resources aren’t enough to meet the growing — and changing — needs of the community.
“85% of folks that are calling right now, there is not an active resource available,” said Thaler McCormick, CEO of ForKids, the nonprofit that runs the Regional Housing Crisis Hotline.
The help that does exist often includes strict eligibility requirements. Those who do qualify for assistance are often told they’ve missed the boat; the money’s run out.
“What often happens is that a resource exists, but it’s tapped out by the 5th of the month,” McCormick said. “Or a nonprofit group may have the ability to help 10 people a month, but they have filled those spots almost as soon as they're available.”
In the last year, hotline partners could fulfill fewer than one in five requests for utility assistance and fewer than one in 10 requests for rent assistance.
Rising costs, stagnant wages, federal cuts to public aid programs like SNAP all play a role in the mounting crisis. So does the lack of affordable housing.
But to the hundreds of people who are told month after month they’re on their own, “resources” start to feel like a myth.
“I'm tired of going to bed and don't know where I'm gonna be able to lay my head the next day,” Moore said.
Dead ends
Moore’s hope evaporated that August afternoon when the automated voice from the Regional Housing Crisis Hotline answered.
“See?” Moore said. “I'm thinking I'm calling the Salvation Army. They put me straight to regional hotline.”
The hotline operator didn’t have information for the Salvation Army program. She referred Moore to other possible shelter options, but she’s already tried them. They’re either full, or could take her but not her daughter. The operator suggested Moore Googled the program.
The Salvation Army does have a HOPE Village program for women in Norfolk. In the past decade, it’s helped 246 women and 119 children become stably housed, said Pamela Blount, the program’s manager.
The program only has about 20 slots every six months, and getting in is a multi-step process.
Moore, for example, would have to go to a shelter to connect with workers who would then pass her information to the people who would decide if she’s eligible.
But there’s no way for Moore to know that. The program’s website simply directs her back to the Regional Housing Crisis Hotline.
“They know the resources (are) not out there,” Moore said. “Y'all just got people just going around in circles, looking crazy, basically.”
McCormick said the hotline operator should have redirected the conversation to Moore’s general situation, starting with where she slept the night before.
But even if the call went perfectly, the outcome likely would have stayed the same.
“Working families with income and children, and working individuals with income, often get trapped outside of stable housing,” McCormick said.
Moore makes too much money with her job as a CNA to qualify for housing assistance. But she doesn’t make enough to afford housing.
“When I tried to get into an apartment, they turned me down because I didn't make the three times the rent. I was off $1,000, and that was in Chesapeake,” she said.
Moore hung up with the hotline, disappointed.
That night, like the nights before, she had to figure out whether she could afford a hotel room or if she and her daughter would sleep in their car.
Again.
