Bringing it home...
San Diego’s streets are full of people one paycheck away from a good home, escaping an abusive relationship or the demons of PTSD. When we take the time to stop and talk with people we learn they are families, brothers, mothers, seniors, veterans, teenagers, sisters, all looking for a home. Some find community and protection among each other, some choose to stay in isolated corners. This site is about our shared humanity; a documentary project in words and visuals by award-winning photojournalist Peggy Peattie, who has been telling the stories of America's homeless for nearly 40 years.
Living outside for 15 years makes you forget certain things about the required responsibilities of living indoors. The transition was so challenging that Henry lived in a tent in the backyard for four months before a storm convinced him to sleep in the room he was assigned. Listening to the wind rattle the windows triggered memories of nights he’d spent in a tent or a car during similar storms. Being responsible not just for himself but for his dog Lulu made the difference. The key to success is changing your mindset, he said, changing your behavior. While he admits he doesn’t like dealing with change, the reward of finally having the security of a home with GLM Housing is well worth the personal work he knows must be done, especially when it means also adapting to a shared living situation.
Chris is a family man. His fondest memories are of the times he and his siblings, cousins and father worked at his grandmother’s thriving board and care business in San Diego. After years of turbulent relationships, addiction, prison, health issues and heartache, all he wants is to be able to have his twin daughters stay with him during visitations. He has battled back the drug addictions, but still struggles with PTSD from all the violence he witnessed in prison and on the streets. That, and betrayal by family and spouses keep him emotionally fragile, but he has housing now and is determined to get his twin daughters back into his life.
Topher, 48, aka Snake, sits on the pavement in the shade behind an old Single Room Occupancy (SRO) hotel in the Gaslamp, pouring alcohol on a pile of paper. Next to him, Otis, 84, is sipping a beer talking about Whitney Houston. Topher grew up in San Diego, got married, had a great job, then lost the job and the marriage. He found a cheap room at a downtown SRO, then after the pandemic he and several others were evicted. He was attacked with a wrench after only four months. He wears that wrench like a talisman against future attacks.
Gypsy explains her black eye and how she defended herself against an attempted sexual assault in downtown San Diego. The assailant had been taunting her for days, and one night he grabbed her and slammed her head against a wall and then the ground thinking that would subdue her enough to rape her. But she grew up tough, learned to defend herself. She is often running into young women who have just arrived on the streets, and offers them advise about who to trust and how to keep your belongings from being stolen. She has her own theories about why men feel it’s okay to assault women.