In south Louisiana, we don’t worry too much about not having enough water. Too much water? Well that is many totally different stories for another day. But not having enough water? That thought rarely even crosses most New Orleanians’ minds… The overpasses and the oaks were...
Mr. B. with his case manager, Ali Salinas. Photograph by Katy Quigley[/caption] We are happy to announce that one of UNITY’s clients has been featured on the HUD Homeless Resource Exchange website as a ‘promising practice and success story’ of the Homelessness Prevention and Rapid...
Every day I pass the intersection of Opelousas and Newton. There’s a roof there with a hole carved out the top, shingles tossed to the side. It’s where someone was pulled from the depth of their Katrina hell sequestered in a dark attic waiting for...
I can personally verify Mr. Sullivan’s homelessness going back 13 years. When I first landed in The Crescent City I used to work at a bar on South Peters Street. It was in the Warehouse District before the area became an address or a destination; before...
Technically it’s not homeless; at least not tonight. Instead of steering our blue outreach van toward the abyss of vacant buildings and into the darkened neighborhoods of New Orleans, we head to the neon glow of the West Bank Expressway. Our guy has hollowed out...
Homelessness in New Orleans remains a pervasive crisis in our community. There are 9,165 persons meeting the HUD definition of homelessness in New Orleans and Jefferson Parish on any given night. This report provides an in-depth analysis of homelessness in our community, including factors leading...
[caption id="attachment_1453" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Mike Miller spends his days and nights doing outreach work with New Orleans' homeless, looking to help "the sickest of the sick." Jesse Hardman for TIME"][/caption] By Jesse Hardman / New Orleans Monday, June 06, 2011 "Don't throw up now," Mike King says...
It’s the most physically demanding, mentally challenging and exhausting kind of social work there is. While the greatest occupational hazards of a lot of my colleagues are the occasional paper cut or the draining hum of overhead florescent lighting, I managed to stab my foot...
I’ve got a headache. It all started with a conversation through the threadbare screen door of an abandoned house. A week ago myself and Clarence scampered over a chain-link fence, trail blazed through an overgrown side yard, pushed open a crumbling back door falling off the...