The youth are a delight. They really are. Like all teens, they are full of spunk and humor and enthusiasm. After leaving the shelter, I’m invariably in a brighter mood. They make me laugh. They make me grin. I love talking with them, because they’re so easy to love.

Our volunteers are incredible. They come from all walks of life. Teachers, doctors, social workers. Construction workers, soldiers, police officers, oil workers. Our volunteers come for a hundred reasons. Some were homeless youth themselves, and look to help the next generation. Some are led by their faith. Others are passionate about helping LGBT, abused, Native, or disabled youth. Many are parents whose hearts for their own children have spread open for others. They hang out, problem solve, listen, cook, and play games with the youth – but mostly, they’re positive role models and adults who genuinely care to the young people that come to the shelter.

Two of our volunteers enjoy a game of cards with the youth.

Our donors surprise me every day. They cook for us, delivering hot meals, packed lunches, and prepackaged snacks.  They drop off clothes, towels, backpacks, shoes and socks.  They write checks and donate online. They gift our youth with things that make a measurable, immediate difference.  Often – almost always – they’re invisible and anonymous. We don’t know who they are or why they give. Their quiet gifting blesses us.

We are so grateful and awed to watch Fairbanksans step forward to embrace this shelter and the youth as their own. Thank you for being there with us.

For ways to help, see: Volunteer. Give. Items Needed. Pray.

We’ve been really busy since February. Last week we released our quarterly news update – if you didn’t get to read it then, read it now.

We’re working towards licensing, which means a lot of things, but mostly means we are all hard at work making sure that we’ve designed the safest and most sensible shelter program we can.  We look forward to being licensed. As a licensed program, we will better be able to connect youth to services through case management, as well as broaden the reach of services we can provide to our guests.

The numbers are up.  We’ve been seeing ten to fourteen youth per night.  That is both startling and amazing to us. We are intensely grateful that they are finding our doors, night after night, and that word is spreading and they are learning to trust us. At the same time, we hurt to we realize that more than forty different youth came to our doors last month. More than forty young people didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I was talking with one of our guests, and he was telling me: “this is really the only place I can sleep without being afraid.” He tells me about sleeping in empty hallways and stairwells, trying sleep but afraid to be found and kicked out or victimized. About sleeping with one eye open and not trusting anyone.  He told me how grateful he was that we were here, because he knew he wasn’t going to get ‘messed with’ – and he could sleep long and hard.  When the youth call it the “Safe Place” – the name the youth use to describe our shelter – we are warmed and blessed.

It just reminds us how needed this service is.  How wonderful it is that we’re able to provide it.

Thank you, Fairbanks, for your ongoing support of our efforts to provide shelter to runaway & homeless youth.

For more ways to help, see our items needed list, sign up to donate through Greater Giving, or apply to volunteer.

Homelessness among young people is hard to see.  We call them the invisible homeless: they don’t want to be seen, counted, identified, singled out.  Besides, they don’t consider themselves homeless at all. They’re between places.  Roughing it. Couching it. Living off the land. They’re not seeking services, unless they’ve got no other option.  And they’re young and creative – they feel like they’ve got a hundred options.  Even if it involved trading favors for a place to sleep, sleeping somewhere someone others might balk at, or moving from place to place – it still feels an option.

They look like teenagers. I laugh when folks ask me what homeless teens look like, ask me what the teens at the shelter are like, because there are no ways to answer that.  They’re teenagers, and so they look like teenagers.  They wear the fashions that their peers do – sometimes fashions that us aged folks might gawp at, but that’s an age thing, not a homeless thing.  They’re just about as scruffy as any teen I know – or just as polished, too.  They’re travelling in packs – of other homeless teens, or with teens from other social circles.  They go to school, or they don’t. They make good choices, and they make mistakes. They’re normal.

Except in some ways, they’re not.  They’re tired, and they look tired, world-weary.  They’re walking around the store with a backpack, around and around, keeping moving so as not to be kicked out.  Or they’re sitting wherever they can sit and not be bothered, staying as long as they can.  They look exhausted because they’re not sleeping enough.  They’re trying really hard to look like their peers, but sometimes things slip through – they’re wearing the same jeans they’ve been wearing for three weeks.  They’re not joining their peers in activities that cost money.  They’re stressed.  They’re hungry.  They’re normal teens in a not-normal situation.

They’re at-risk.  At-risk is a term I’m still struggling to understand (at-risk for what?) – I just know that it means that these are young people on the edges.  Sometimes they’re using substances or engaging in criminal activity – sometimes to survive, sometimes because they don’t know any other options.  Often, they’re struggling under the burden of mental illness – FASD (fetal-alcohol syndrome) and PTSD (post-traumatic stress) are among the most common, but some are working to manage bipolar, schizophrenia, anxiety, or depression.  Many are LGBT – an umbrella term for those who are gay, lesbian, bi, transgender – or, in general, identify differently than their birth-gender or standard sexuality.   Many of these youth face discrimination and rejection from their communities – as well as their families.  This isolation and rejection can lead to homelessness, as well as depression, suicide, and increased risk for violence and sexual assault.  Most homeless youth are behind in school, or have dropped out of school – it is very difficult to focus on education when you don’t know where you’re sleeping, when you don’t feel stable.  They’re at much increased risk for suicide – when you live your life in crisis and it feels like everything is falling apart, and you have nothing left – it can be hard for anyone, especially a young person, to hold onto life and hope.

I keep waiting, hoping that the world will start to see these young people who fall through the cracks, who are hanging on the edges.  Because I know that with the right support, encouragement, and confidence, they can find their feet.  When you think you’re invisible, you think no one knows, no one cares, and no one wants to help.  We want to, we do, and we know that others do.

Join us: Pray.  Give. Donate. Volunteer. Share your story.

Resiliency.  That’s a term that comes up often when talking with other service providers, but may not be one the general public recognizes.

Think strength.  Think endurance.  Think courage.

Resilient.  That’s what these young people are.  And we have the opportunity to see their courage and strength and endurance every day.  It is a blessing and a gift.  These are great kids.  We say that a lot too.

When I talk with new volunteers, I’m often challenged by preconceptions. Understandable ones.  The term ‘at-risk’ usually brings to mind gangs and drugs and violence and all sorts of horror stories and movie synopsis.  It is hard to fight against that image because, yes, sometimes that is what at-risk looks like.  But this is what I see:  I see a young man who gets up early every morning to go to work, a man thrilled with his new job.  I see a youth with light and humor and passion despite the real pain and struggle life has thrown his way.  I see a student who studies and goes to sports practice and hangs out with friends and listens to music is the picture of normalcy – except that he doesn’t have a stable place to sleep at night.  I see a young woman who shines with intelligence and humor, works two jobs and helps friends and sets an example for other teens.

I see strength.  I see courage.  I see endurance.  I see resiliency.

What makes a difference – what helps these young men and women use those strengths to make it in the world – is stability.  Without someplace stable and safe to sleep, rest, recharge, and consider your options, you live in crisis.  Almost universally, youth who enter our shelter for the first time head straight for a cot and are asleep in minutes. They are exhausted.  Those who continue to return are able to re-establish sleeping habits they might not have had for a long time.  They start to have enough energy to eat before falling asleep.  And then to talk and hang out. They can start to think about their next option.  But that seldom happens until their brains and bodies can come down out of crisis and begin to recover.

And then their strength can shine.

It is that time of year again.  Every year in January, across the nation, communities come together to gather information about the scope of homelessness within their own communities.  This organized effort, called a Point In Time Count, helps us as service providers figure out how large the problem is, where it is, and what it looks like.  Each community figures out the best way to reach the homeless in their towns and survey them about their needs – while using the opportunity to connect them to services they might not otherwise be able to reach.

Generally, across America, the homeless youth population is missed.  We’ve talked about it before: they’re invisible.  They’re not turning up at adult shelters or soup kitchens.  They’re not in the homeless camps.  They’re not begging on the street corners.  They’re hidden.  For good reason – they’re often afraid that identification would mean being returned to homes where they felt unsafe, uncomfortable, or rejected, or they don’t consider themselves homeless at all.  They’re camping in a car.  Sleeping at a buddies.  Couch surfing.  Anything but homeless.  Its one of the reasons, nationally and locally, that we struggle to identify – to quantify – the problem, particularly among folks under 25.

In Fairbanks, we’re working to get better ideas of those numbers.  The school district does a wonderful job of identifying youth in school without the benefit of stable housing and family support.  Community agencies identify those they know who are homeless and on their own.  Fairbanks Youth Advocates – and Fairbanks as a whole – wants to do better.  We believe that getting the most accurate count possible will help us to represent the needs of young homeless, and to better know how to meet those needs.

Saturday, January 26th, Fairbanks Youth Advocates, as part of the Fairbanks Homeless and Housing Coalition, is joining other youth-serving agencies to reach out to youth where they’re hanging out during the day, and invite them to join us for an evening of free stuff, food, and great music at the FYA Youth Shelter (547 7th Ave).

The event, called In From The Cold, will feature artists Jesse Hobbs, Circle The Sun, The Naked Men, Raif Kennedy, and Joe Ransdell-Greene.  The event will start at 6pm and shut down at 9pm.  All are welcome.  We emphasize that this is not a fundraiser, but an outreach event, targeted to our young homeless. Any young folks (under 21) needing shelter are invited to stay the night.

We remind folks that the MACS Transit has donated free bus service to all of Fairbanks that day.

A fraction of the many thoughtful donations we’ve received!

Growing up, saying “Thank You,” was a very important skill to master, but also a highly valued expectation of my family. Thank you’s were passed back and forth all day long: parent to child, child to parent, and child to child. If someone did something for you, the ONLY response was “thank you”, whether or not that was really what you wanted to say. The memorable times I really dreaded the infamous “Thank Yous” as a youngster was when it was time to write them – and we did, especially in light of all that we received over  a birthday or Christmas.

Fast forward a few decades (just a few!) and I find myself stumbling and fumbling to write thank yous and say “thank you” once again as founder and now director of Fairbanks Youth Advocates. Why? It has nothing to do with dreading, and everything to do with feeling that no word combinations can express how showered upon, loved upon, blessed, blown away, you name it – how we feel and how thankful and grateful we are to so many agencies, families, individuals, churches and community service organizations who gave, and gave, and gave.

We were exceedingly and abundantly showered upon with calls of encouragement, material items like clothing and blankets, food of all kinds and financial contributions. The kind, caring and generous nature of Fairbanksans showed up day, after day, after day in December and we were left in awe.

Thank you Fairbanks for pouring out your hearts to the youth staying at our overnight shelter. Thank you for the kind thoughts, encouraging words and affirming your partnership in our mission.  We’re still trying to learn how to share how grateful we are.  We don’t always find the right words, or the right way to say things, but we hope you hear our love and gratitude in what we’re trying to say.  When we say “we couldn’t do this without your support,” we mean it! YOU are helping us meet this need in our community and we are so grateful.

Blessings!

Marylee

Happy New Year!

A month ago, we officially opened our doors and admitted the first teens into our temporary shelter, operated out of First Presbyterian Church.  The youth were a little nervous and – hey – so were we. These many months of working and planning and hoping and climbing and we were finally able to accomplish our first, our biggest goal: providing emergency shelter to youth in Fairbanks.  It felt like cresting a mountain.  All of a sudden we could see how far we had yet to go – but we were finally able to see past the rocks, trees and hazards that had blocked our view.  We opened.  We breathed.  We were relaxed, and so, then, did the youth.

This year has been incredible, and we delighted to end on such a high note.  Since the shelter opened we’ve been able to provide a safe place to sleep for four or five youth a night.  We’ve been able to operate continually – and will continue to – because of the dedication of our community volunteers.  Without their help, there is no way we would be able to provide this service – we’re not sure if we can say ‘thank you’ loud enough or enthusiastically enough to these volunteers.  We hope you understand how important you are to us!

We know we have more to do.  This year we will finish construction on our permanent shelter building, open our doors and extend our welcome – and our services – to those who need it.  The permanent shelter will provide extended services for youth: counseling, family reconciliation, case management, connection to resources, education, and more, in addition to 24-7 shelter services.  In the meantime, we work to further develop our temporary shelter at First Presbyterian to provide the best, safest, and most sensible place possible for our youth. We will continue to provide shelter each night between 9pm and 8am to young people in need of a place to go.  We’re growing our volunteer base and spreading awareness in Fairbanks of the needs, our services, and the issues of youth homelessness.  As always, we’ll be reaching out to the community to support us – and to support these young people.

Thank you all for standing with us – we are so very grateful to the Fairbanks community for your ongoing support.

As always, we appreciate your help: Volunteer your time.  Donate things you no longer need.  Give.

November is National Youth Homelessness Awareness Month, and yet, in Fairbanks, many of us have no reference point to understand youth homelessness in Interior Alaska. I sat down with a handful of Interior youth and asked them about their experiences of being homeless as a young person here in Fairbanks.

Days start harshly.

“Usually I wake up in a frozen car, and just try to warm up.”  They run the car all night long for the heat, but frequently the gas runs out and they wake to the freezing cold.  The car doesn’t run, and none of them have licenses, but “that doesn’t matter, its a place to sleep,” they say.

“I’d recently become the owner of a car,” another young man told me, “and it was missing windows and I had no insurance, but it was better than anything else.  We’d throw blankets over the top of the car to keep in the heat.  It was so cold, sleeping in the back of the car.  We’d snuggle up for warmth.  I’d wake up in the morning so cold I couldn’t move.  The first thing you think about is how to get warm, how to stay warm all day.”

Days are long.

Winter days are longer.  “I’d walk around all day, every day.  All day, every day.  You’ve got to keep moving, you know, because when you stop moving, that’s when you get cold.”  He tells me that having a good backpack is paramount – backpacks keep you warm, weight on your back keeps you warm.  Heavier backpacks are better, because then you’re working harder to walk, which means you’re staying warmer.

Quality sleep is always a problem.

“Last night I slept on a friend’s couch. I didn’t get much sleep, because his roommate came home and found us on the floor and couch, and he hadn’t been told we were gonna be there. Middle of the night, and I heard him go off about us being there.  I couldn’t sleep through that.  They didn’t kick us out till morning, but I didn’t really sleep.”

“Yeah, I don’t get much sleep.  There are seven of us, in a one bedroom dry cabin. Two in one bedroom, two in the loft, and three in the living room. Someone is always in a fight with someone else.  We don’t have a car, so we have to walk forty five minutes and carry as much water as we can.  But I take showers at the university for free.  We’re not on the bus line, so a lot of our money goes towards getting a cab from the bus stop to our house – seven dollars – when we have groceries or it’s too cold to walk.”

It is difficult to find a place to sleep as a youth on your own.

“We’re trying to get an apartment.”
“Someplace warm, someplace dependable?” I ask.
“Warm.  Having someplace warm to go – that’s what’s most important.  I can live without dependable.  I can make my own dependable.  Warm is what matters.”

He’s 17.  He can’t rent an apartment, and none of the youth he lives with are over 21 – he tells me they have trouble even getting a hotel room.  When they can afford it.

Transiency – moving from place to place, never having a permanent place, is a theme.

“Before [I was living in the car] I was staying at one of my friend’s house.  Before that another friend’s.  This summer we were camping.”

“It’s temporary,” one young woman emphasizes,  “that’s what people don’t understand.  I’m living there, but my name isn’t on the lease.  I’m not supposed to be there. If anyone finds out I’m living there, or she doesn’t want us there anymore, we’re gone.  It’s only temporary.”

“It’s like – it’s October, and you’re sleeping in the graveyard or in parks, because no one will mess with you there.  Its rock bottom.  Its horrible.”

I ask them how they get by.  Food stamps help, they say.  So do food boxes. “I have a job – but I’m sick of working at food places.  My dream job – anywhere but restaurants.”  ”I worked this summer at the state fair.  It was great, I’m a really hard worker and it was a lot of fun. I camped out there and the vendors usually fed us at the end of the day, because they knew how hard we worked.” The youth barter or beg, when they have to. “I’m pretty good at getting what I need.”

Life is hard for youth, if you’re on the streets of Fairbanks, but these young people are incredibly creative and resilient.  They don’t choose this life lightly – they choose it only when they feel they have no other option. Some don’t choose it at all. Many youth have run away from home, facing conflict or crisis that makes them feel that returning home is truly not an option. Many of our homeless youth are not runaways at all – but are kicked out of home, abandoned, or fleeing danger, dysfunction and neglect in the home.  These stories remind us that, however many youth there may be, homeless and on their own in Fairbanks, they are each facing challenges no child should have to.

This winter Fairbanks Youth Advocates will host a temporary emergency shelter for youth, in partnership with First Presbyterian Church of Fairbanks.  They will be providing a safe space for youth to sleep at night, and are actively seeking volunteers willing to commit to one night a month, or one evening or morning a week to assist staff in providing a safe place for youth.

To learn more about drop in services for homeless youth, contact Fairbanks Counseling and Adoption’s Street Outreach and Advocacy Program at 374-9913, and to apply to volunteer or seek information about the youth shelter, contact Fairbanks Youth Advocates at 328-9949 or visit www.FairbanksYouthAdvocates.org

Last week, at the annual conference of the Alaska Coalition on Housing and Homeless, I had the opportunity to meet a young woman who now works as a director of a drop in center for homeless and at-risk youth in Anchorage.  She shared her story of growing up in foster care and on the streets, and how this led to her current advocacy and work with youth.  She is an inspirational and strong young woman, and it was a pleasure to meet her.

When we talk about the struggles faced by homeless and at-risk youth, we usually talk about the challenges they face.  We share about the incredible odds stacked against them, the likelihood that, without support, they will struggle to rise and succeed. This paints such a grim, distorted picture of the future of these youth that it makes us, at times, feel the weight of those odds on our shoulders.  That weight is also felt on the shoulders of these resilient young people.  When the world believes you cannot succeed, you are more likely to believe that as well.

We seldom share about the folks who do rise.  The strong, courageous, and lucky folks who, with or without support, survive and thrive despite the weights and burdens life has thrown their way.

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to sit down with a young man who spent much of his teen years homeless on the streets of Fairbanks.  A sweet, smart, and dedicated person, it was a joy to see where he is today – working hard at a job he loves and enjoying stability in his life, despite the real challenges he still faces.  I have met legislators, business owners, nurses and teachers, social workers, therapists and musicians whose teens years were marked by crisis, abandonment, loss, and struggle.  I’ve heard stories from community members across Fairbanks, from all types of professions and lifestyles, who experienced homelessness as teens, and who rose, slowly, from those difficult times to find a life that they chose.

At Fairbanks Youth Advocates, we believe that young people of all experiences and backgrounds can succeed in the way they choose.  We know that with care and support they are better able to reach their goals.  We know that young people are naturally creative problem-solvers, resilient, and incredibly strong.  Despite the odds stacked against them, they break those expectations and prove that they control their own destinies.  We are inspired and strengthened by them.  We would like to share that hope and possibility.

We would love to hear your stories.  Have you experienced homelessness as a teen?  Where are you now?  Would you be willing to share your story with Fairbanks Youth Advocates?  Please contact me at Sarah@FairbanksYouthAdvocates.org if you would be willing to share your story.

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IStock Photo 1185545 © nuno

As a teen, my home-life sucked.  Abuse, neglect, and my mom’s severe mental illness made home the last place I wanted to be. The ways I dealt with the traumas and horrors at home were maladaptive and dangerous.  Like many teens, I didn’t have the tools to handle things, and I desperately wanted out.  My path out of those dark times was directly related to leaving home at fifteen.  I preferred to be anywhere else than the environment of fear and dread I faced at home. Finally leaving my mom’s home for the last time at seventeen, I was able to pull myself up from the depths.  Difficult though it was, I couldn’t have done that at home.

I didn’t have a safe space to turn to as a teen.  Though I’m fairly certain my hometown hosted some sort of emergency shelter for teens, the thought never crossed my mind to go looking for one, in times when I felt trapped, or unsafe, or in crisis.  Instead of turning towards a place and people who were safe, I turned to unsafe behaviors.  I felt I was alone, and that I had no way out.  Had I known that there were folks who could – and would – help me navigate the bumps and potholes that was young adulthood, who would connect me with people who could really help, and treat me with respect and compassion – I believe I would have struggled less, and found stability sooner.

After graduating college, I immediately left to serve as an AmercorpsVISTA with Fairbanks Youth Advocates on something I felt was critical – helping young people in critical situations find safe solutions.  Working now to develop a shelter that is safe, warm, caring, and does the best it can to connect teens to resources and solutions – I feel incredibly lucky. My experience as a teen is not that of a homeless youth – I never slept on the streets, never didn’t know where I’d sleep that night, never felt the pressure to trade favors for couch space – but I vividly remember not wanting to go home.  The pain of knowing your family doesn’t have the tools to care for you in a healthy, loving way.  I remember feeling lost, abandoned, and scared.

There are many, many reasons young people leave home. We have a saying – for every 100 homeless teens, there are 98 unique reasons they’ve left home.  While a significant percentage of youth leave home because of abuse, molestation, neglect, or parental addiction and mental illness, many also leave because of escalating family conflict (we fight all the time!), personal crisis (oh! I’m pregnant! I can’t tell mom!), or being kicked out by their parents – parents who are at the end of their ability to deal.  I am incredibly proud to serve an agency whose goal is to safely reunite teens with their families, to connect them with partner agencies and services they desperately need, and to help them understand that they don’t have to swim those terrifyingly dark waters alone.

Join me in supporting this incredible agency.  Volunteer your time.  Donate things you no longer need.  Give.

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