Hassen
Hassen
“I’m sorry if I’m a little confused, but we have you listed as the organization that is young-adult-specific. It says you’re designated as an emergency site? That we can send youth over to you, no questions asked? Is that the case?” I questioned, genuinely trying to figure out if I had gotten something wrong somewhere. “Well, it wouldn’t be quite that simple,” she replied, the tone of her voice somewhat apologetic. “For one thing, I don’t think the environment or the set up here would be a good fit for a young adult. We only have a population of grown men. Not only that, anyone we would consider accepting would first have to do an intake, and that’s only after they’ve been referred by one of the organizations who are on our list. Then, depending on the person’s specific situation, we might be able to take them but it would still depend heavily on etc. etc. etc”. Or at least that last part is what I heard her saying. The bottom line was that they were refusing to take him. I eventually ended the call on polite terms but still sat there in my chair several minutes after the call, bewildered. Both of the only two designated organizations who were supposed to be taking youth for this exact emergency purpose that we were dealing with were telling us that we’d have to look elsewhere. There WAS no where else!
We needed to get Hassen admitted into another temporary place for 2 weeks or so and that organization was the second and only other possibility. The other option wasn’t an option–he’d been there temporarily staying there but they were in the process of discharging him any minute. The Director had already given me their list of ‘official reasons’. All of this bureaucracy and red tape, and for what? I was left with the sense that no one was really thinking about what Hassen was supposed to do at this point.
Hassen himself didn’t seem particularly concerned. The clock was ticking and if we didn’t find a temporary place for him, he clearly had no problem venturing out on his own and sleeping outside if that’s what it came down to. He was one of our youngest residents--he was still in high school and we’d been told that his parents were back in his home country and that he was completely on his own. He also spoke very little English so there was a whole network of individuals and organizations, including a translator, who were all continually coordinating with one other to make sure he was somewhere safe, taken care of, and attending his remote classes. In my view, he was too young to be homeless and unaccompanied with no one to look after him. But I suspected that, to some degree, it all felt like a certain kind of freedom to him.
One of the other staff who was fluent in his native language was able to get Hassen on a 3-way call. I wanted to know that he had a plan that didn’t include a park bench or some other outside location. In the middle of the winter. I pressed him about it. “I’m planning on going to a friend of the family to stay with them for a little while.” I continued questioning. He didn’t have a phone number for the family friend, hadn’t been in touch with them any time recently, wasn’t completely sure of the address and wasn’t even certain that he’d be welcomed in. He was just planning to make his way to the person’s home on public transportation with the hopes of being allowed to stay for a little while.
That was no plan at all.
My hands were tied. The only thing I could do was really express the concern that I was feeling and persuade him to stay in constant contact with us. “Thank you, I really do appreciate how you all are concerned about me. I’m going to be okay”, the staff person translated. Since his phone situation wasn’t reliable, we agreed to stay in touch through a social media chat feature.
All I could do at that point was wait and hope that something would pan out. That either the family would accept him or someone would be able to convince the staff of either of those two orgs to take him in. There were a handful of various other individuals at this point, still making calls, still trying to advocate for him.
And then it happened. One of our staff called me the next day, late on Sunday evening, and informed me that they were able to do it, that someone was able to level with the Director of the first facility and get him re-admitted. This was an incredible accomplishment, and extremely fortuitous–especially since we’d heard that the family friend hadn’t taken him in and that he’d just been wandering around. Particularly problematic given the fact that he was in need of some medical attention. But now, he would be all set for a few weeks and then he would return to us, where we could keep an eye on him. I was so entirely relieved.
I had to express my gratitude to the staff. They’d continued to work on it throughout the weekend until they were able to make something happen for him. “You all do not cease to amaze me. I don’t know how you did it, but you did it. Thank you. And also, my blood pressure thanks you.” It was a little miracle I was hoping for--small in size but huge in significance.
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Hassen was particularly vulnerable. He was young, unaccompanied (experiencing homelessness separate from family), and was severely limited in his ability to communicate linguistically. What stands out to me about his situation is that he, and often other youth in situations like his, rarely realize just how vulnerable they are. Hassen’s situation is prototypical of young adults who get shuffled around and/or lost in systems of care.
