âPhotos of my babies. My wallet. A really warm blanket.â
Kat Fry has lost track of how many things sheâs had taken from her while living on the streets of Portland.
âItâs stressful to try to think about what Iâve lost,â she says. âI go to look for something and remember: âThatâs right, itâs gone. They took it.ââ
Some of Fryâs possessions have been stolen. Others have been trashed by tenants of the buildings near her tent in Old Town. But most of her lost property has been taken by the City of Portland.
After a recent trip to the emergency room for a spider bite, Fry returned to the street where sheâd been sleeping to find her brand-new tent and sleeping bag had disappearedâplucked from the sidewalk by one of the cityâs campsite cleanup crews while she was in the hospital. Fryâs backpack, which contained her prescription pain medication, was also gone.
When Fry went to the warehouse where the city holds property collected during campsite cleanups, she found her backpack was âclean empty.â Her doctor, knowing Fry had a history of substance abuse, wouldnât refill the prescription. At the time, Fry had been clean from narcotics for several weeks.
Two weeks after her pain medication had gone missing, Fryâs friend handed her a syringe. âHe said, âHere!ââ Fry says. âIt was the only thing I could grab. I had no other options. What was I supposed to do?â
Fry is one of the hundreds of Portlanders whoâve lost important personal property during the cityâs frequent homeless camp sweeps, which regularly affect all campsites on public property. Carried out by private firms contracted by the city, the often-unpredictable cleanups have contributed to a cycle of loss that, for many living outside, delays any pursuit of a stable life.
While the city has attempted to make it easier for homeless Portlanders to reclaim their property, many argue that the stress the cleanups inflict on Portlandâs homeless population wonât truly be resolved until the sweeps come to an end. According to both homeless individuals and many of their advocatesâsome of whom are working to build a movement to âstop the sweepsââthe city seems to be using seized property to punish homeless Portlanders for falling victim to the regionâs housing crisis.
âThe emotional impact... it almost feels intentional,â says Alexa Simpson, a Portlander whoâs been homeless for three years. âItâs like theyâre beating us down again and again until we leave town, or we die.â
Ironically, some of the rules that mandate the campsite cleanups were created to protect the rights of homeless Portlanders.
In 2008, a group of Portlanders whoâd been arrested for camping in public areas sued the City of Portland for violating their constitutional protections against âcruel and unusual punishment,â arguing that they had nowhere else to sleep. Four years later, the city reached a settlement agreement with the plaintiffs that laid out strict rules for the city to follow when cleaning up homeless encampments on public propertyâcampsites that, however common, remain illegal in Portland.
Now enshrined as city policy, those rules mandate that city employees must give people at least 48 hoursâ notice before sweeping their campsite and that, if people donât clear the area before the cleanup crew arrives, the city must collect all property that is ârecognizable as belonging to a person and that has apparent use.â That property is then stored at a 5,500-square-foot warehouse in Southeast Portland managed by the cityâs Homelessness/Urban Camping Impact Reduction Program (HUCIRP). Individuals have 30 days to reclaim their property.
The city is alerted to homeless camps on public property through One Point of Contactâa website where Portlanders can report people breaking the cityâs anti-camping rulesâand from direct referrals from law enforcement or city employees.
In 2014, faced with a steadily growing homeless population, the city decided to hire an outside security firm, Pacific Patrol Services, to conduct camp cleanups. The city has since added a secondary contractor, the hazardous waste removal company Rapid Response Bio Clean, to address the consistently growing number of homeless encampments.
By June 2019, these contractorsâoverseen by HUCIRPâwere cleaning up nearly 3,000 campsites a year, with each cleanup costing taxpayers an average of $762. According to the city, HUCIRP currently receives between 700 and 1,200 reports of illegal camping each week from members of the public.
The rapidly rising number of homeless campsitesâand the cleanups that accompany themâhas had consequences. Last March, a city audit found that the demand for cleanup services âhas pushed the program past its capacity.â One of the auditorâs top concerns was that contractors appeared to be using arbitrary guidelines to determine which property was worth keeping.
âWithout better guidance,â the audit read, âcleanup crews are left to decide what should be retained or thrown away.â
While HUCIRP has a list of items that contractors are instructed not to keep during cleanupsâincluding grocery carts, food, drug paraphernalia, hazardous material, water-logged items, and anything soiled with human wasteâseveral people told the Mercury that theyâve seen contractors throw away items that should have been taken to the storage facility, such as bicycles, wheelchairs, personal identification, and insurance documents. Others say theyâve lost personal items with sentimental valueâincluding family photos, letters, and even ashes of deceased family membersâbecause contractors either decided or assumed they were garbage.
âIf they decide an item has no value, itâs gone,â says Barbra Weber, a homeless Portlander and community activist. âItâs devastating.â
Kim Mason, a volunteer attorney with the ACLU of Oregon, said the lack of clarity around whatâs ârecognizable as belonging to a person and that has apparent useâ leaves people with little legal recourse when their property is taken.
âThere are due process concerns in the city interfering with peopleâs property rights,â Mason wrote in an email to the Mercury. âEspecially when âpropertyâ can be classified as trash, even though it is life-sustaining to its owner.â
Inconsistent enforcement of rules also plagues other steps in the camp cleanup process.
The city is legally obligated to alert people of a coming cleanup by posting a sign near their campsite at least 48 hours before a sweep. But Simpson says those signs are regularly torn down by upset campers or people trying to sabotage campsites, leaving campers unprepared for a sweep. Numerous times, Simpson says, sheâs woken up to contractors in the process of tearing down her camp.
âIâve seen my possessions put in a dumpster... and I was almost arrested when I tried to pull them out,â she says. âOnce they told us that we could only keep whatever items we could carry that was in armsâ reach. That canât be right.â
Those overseeing campsite cleanups can also give campers contradictory information. Weber said sheâs been told by a police officer that she had an hour to clean up her camp, only to be told by a contractor 15 minutes later that she had to leave immediately.
âThereâs no uniformity to the system,â says Weber.
Since the city canât always promise shelter for campers, let alone a path toward permanent affordable housing, many people whoâve had their campsites cleared just move their tent to another public spaceâstarting the cycle over again.
Those attempting to retrieve belongings that have been relocated to the storage facility often face another set of challenges.
After a cleanup, the items that contractors consider worth keeping are taken to a warehouse at Southeast Ivon and 4th, where they are photographed and placed in clear plastic bags that are identified with a tag that lists the items inside and notes the location of where they were picked up. Those bags are stored on rows of industrial shelves, categorized by the date they were brought in.
If someone wants to retrieve their confiscated property, they must call the city and schedule a set time to visit the warehouse, which is open on weekdays between 10 am and 4 pm and operated by the same contractors who conduct the cleanups. On arrival, staffers ask visitors where their camp was located and to describe their property.
âItâs degrading to have to remember everything you had in detail,â says Fry. âThen you give a description of everything, and they may give you a third of it or a fourth of it. Once I got my wallet back, but all my cash was missing.â
There are many reasons that some people are unable to visit the warehouse in that 30-day window: maybe their cell phone was taken during a cleanup, so they canât call to make an appointment; maybe their day job wonât let them take the time off; maybe their bus pass was in their confiscated wallet.
According to HUCIRP, the vast majority of stored property is never picked up. After 30 days in the warehouse, most items are thrown away.
For many, this processâone that was initially meant to restore dignity to a vulnerable populationâonly exacerbates their instability.
One homeless Portlander, who goes by the name Starburst, says sheâs had library books taken during a cleanup of her Eastside camp, a loss she says has prohibited her from using Multnomah County Libraryâs services.
âIt seems like a small problem to have,â says Starburst, whoâs been homeless for nearly a decade. âBut [the library] is something I really rely on.â
Others whoâve experienced unexpected camp cleanups tell stories of losing Social Security cards, insurance documents, cell phones, and food that had been purchased with a state-issued Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program card. Losing such items can be an immeasurable setback for those attempting to escape homelessness.
âPeople are having the only stuff they own ripped away from them [by] law enforcement and city employeesâpeople they are supposed to trust. You lose sight of who you can trust. You end up resenting the government and anyone who tells you they want to help.â
âAlexa Simpson, houseless Portlander
Simpson says her mother, who is homeless and disabled, has repeatedly had her pain medication taken during cleanups. To refill the lost prescriptions, her mother has to submit a report to the Oregon Health Authority, which can then approve or deny the request. While her mother has never been denied a refill, the frequent requests have strained her relationship with her insurance provider, doctors, and pharmacy.
âThey look at her like sheâs irresponsible, or a liar,â says Simpson. âIt makes her anxious to interact with them.â
Unsurprisingly, property loss has driven yet another wedge between the homeless community and Portland officials.
âPeople are having the only stuff they own ripped away from them [by] law enforcement and city employeesâpeople they are supposed to trust,â says Simpson. âYou lose sight of who you can trust. You end up resenting the government and anyone who tells you they want to help.â
The city staff who are most familiar with this system arenât blind to its flaws.
âThe city does not want to take anyoneâs personal property,â HUCIRP spokesperson Heather Hafer said in an email to the Mercury. âWe want people to be able to keep their things, and collecting property is a time-consuming and costly process.â
In the past year, HUCIRP staff have made substantial changes to the program. In early 2019, the city started keeping confiscated property in a warehouse thatâs larger and more centrally located than the original location where items were stored. That alone, the city says, has caused property retrieval rates to quadruple.
Staff have also worked to more specifically outline the ways contractors are expected to interact with campers.
The cityâs cleanup contractors currently adhere to a 2016 contract that, among other things, requires them to be trained in the handling and disposing of hazardous waste. âContractor(s)... shall perform work in a timely and efficient manner, and conduct themselves in a courteous and business-like fashion,â the contract reads. Once a cleanup has begun, the contract grants campers one hour to âremove their possessions and leave the site.â
An updated contract currently under consideration asks for contractors that employ staff who have been trained by the Crisis Prevention Institute, an organization that specializes in de-escalation training. It also requires employees âbe trained and experienced in... non-violent conflict resolution, assertive engagement, [and] trauma informed communication,â along with hazardous waste disposal.
Unlike its 2016 predecessor, this updated proposal requires that staff âbe polite, diplomatic and professional at all times, and treat all persons with dignity and respect.â While campers will be given âat leastâ one hour to remove their possessions and leave their campsite, the proposal also offers an addendum: âIn instances where individuals are making a good-faith effort to collect their property but are unable to do so within an hour... it may be appropriate to move onto another location and come back later in the day.â
The new contract language still needs City Councilâs approval, but Hafer expects it to go into effect for current and future contractors by January 2020.
But for houseless Portlanders, the fact that campsite cleanups could become more humane and that property retrieval has been made more accessible are only Band-Aid solutions. Neither change addresses the primary issue: the cityâs lack of affordable housing.
âThe city should respond to the lived experiences of the houseless and their requests for support,â says the ACLUâs Mason. âAdequate housing is the most obvious step.â
In lieu of that, Mason says, the city should at least allow people a space to camp and âexist safely and legally.â
Itâs a suggestion that HUCIRP staff are exploring. The programâs 2019-2021 strategic plan mentions a department goal of finding âunderutilized city properties, or properties in pre-development stages, that could be used for alternative shelter purposes to provide lawful and organized places for people experiencing homelessness to sleep.â
Homeless advocates are hoping to take that a step further. A new coalition made up of homeless community members and local advocacy groups has created an information campaign about the impact sweeps have on Portlandersâand is working to request a citywide moratorium on camp sweeps.
The coalition, led by members of Sisters of the Road, Right 2 Survive, and the Western Regional Advocacy Project (WRAP), brought the proposal to the Multnomah County Democrats in November, asking for their support. Not only did the group pass a resolution calling for a moratorium on camp sweeps, but the county Democrats pledged to meet with local and state leaders to demand the suspension.
Portland has attempted to halt camp sweeps on public property before, most notably in 2016, under then-mayor Charlie Halesâ âsafe sleepâ policy. Butâfaced with mounting lawsuits from business groups and neighborhood associationsâthe cityâs moratorium only lasted six months.
Until the camp cleanups halt, the local coalition is devoted to lessening the sweepsâ impact on vulnerable Portlanders. At the moment, that means offering to accompany people to HUCIRPâs warehouse to help them navigate the property retrieval process and creating a system to provide emergency supplies to people whoâve lost their property in a cleanup.
WRAP Executive Director Paul Boden has followed Portlandâs many attempts to soften the blow of city policies that disproportionately target the homeless community. Boden, who experienced homelessness as a teenager, says the cityâs cleanup system is a clear example of anti-homeless policymaking.
âIf somebody came into your house when you were at work and threw out your personal possessions, youâd get pretty freaking upset,â Boden says. âHowâs that any different from a sweep? There isnât a difference in attachment to personal belongings between a housed person and an unhoused person. They arenât a different species.â
Boden says the âother-ingâ of the homeless population makes it easier to violateâboth practically and legallyâcertain groupsâ basic human rights.
âAs soon as you donât have permanent housing, youâre seen as different,â Boden says. âYour rights are different. We tell [houseless people], âIf we let you maintain your personal possessions, itâs an inconvenience to us.ââ
Legally speaking, if someone has their property thrown away during a cleanup, they can sue the city or contractor for damages. In reality, however, itâs not that simple.
âIf somebody came into your house when you were at work and threw out your personal possessions, youâd get pretty freaking upset. Howâs that any different from a sweep?â
âPaul Boden, Executive Director Western Regional Advocacy Project
âNot only is it difficult to prove that someoneâs belongings were taken,â says the ACLUâs Mason, âbut itâs also incredibly difficult for the poor and houseless to file a claim against the city when their rights have been violated.â
Several houseless Portlanders told the Mercury that while theyâd be interested in joining a class-action lawsuit against the city, the cost and energy required to file their own suits would be too prohibitive.
That burden could lighten, Mason says, if houseless people were considered a protected classâgiving them the same protections granted to people who are discriminated against for their sexuality or race. The ACLU of Oregon and other civil rights organizations have supported past legislation that would create these protections for homeless Oregonians, but none have been passed into law.
If those protections were in place, Mason says, âThe courts would apply a higher level of scrutinyâ to the treatment of homeless Portlanders and the confiscation of their belongings.
âWe would be forced to answer the question we should have been asking all along,â Mason says. ââAre we solving a problem, or are we just punishing the victims of a larger one?ââ