Week 4-5:
Break from Filming

June 28, 2020

So I needed to undergo surgery last week so it’s been a moment since I updated this blog; I’ve been in recovery for about a week now, and will be starting to film again next week. It has been a timeless week filled with pain medication, antibiotics and sleep. Meant to work on this blog – and get back to editing the film – but had an infection scare around the site of the surgery. Thankfully, I’ve been feeling much better lately and to make-up for lost time, I’ll be extending my technical internship. If I don’t finish the film, my supervisor is alright having me edit the film once I’m back at school.

Since it’s been a while, I’ll write about the last time I filmed a client. 

James* isn’t from Cedar Rapids, but Waterloo, IA. He felt lonely in Waterloo, like he was “the only homeless person there.” Cedar Rapids has given him a “community within a community,” a common sentiment among Willis Dady clients, and appreciates the services available. The overflow shelter was closing, so I spent the day filming James moving out and setting up camp near the lakefront of Cedar River. We went with Aaron from outreach and a Willis Dady ambassador, a paid position reserved for the formerly homeless. Ambassadors are integral to the Cedar Rapids homeless ‘community with a community,’ often acting as liaisons for service providers and police. Ambassadors are trained in de-escalation and patrol Greene Square Park downtown where the homeless often congregate, near the library. Ambassadors promote community safety and connect the unhoused with resources – they are or were members of the community themselves and for this reason are more easily able to earn the trust of clients. 

The ambassador is taking James, who arrived in Cedar Rapids this most recent winter and has been staying at winter shelter, to her old camping spot. The three of us hike – the spot is miles away from the downtown area and, frankly: it’s beautiful. It is an interesting thing, tragedy surrounded by beauty. James is anxious to spend the night out in the woods alone, and as we walk along the river path into a dense patch of green, I’m reminded of the facts of homelessness: it is solvable. This should not be happening. The U.S. has more than enough money to provide universal housing vouchers or to subsidize and build enough affordable housing units to house the homeless. 

But for Aaron, the ambassador and James himself, the situation is normal. James has been homeless for years. He’s a funny, thoughtful man in his late 40s. An Iowan native and son of a biker. James has a physical and mental disability that makes working difficult for him (it is hard for him to stand for long periods of time and we have to make frequent stops on our short hike to camp) – but doesn’t qualify for state benefits. He talks to me about the stigma surrounding mental disability, and what that means for a man in his condition – especially when the benefits application discounts mental illness and disability. James is anxious. Really, really anxious, to the point of panic attacks. While James was able to score a job that would work with him, the pandemic hit just as he was in training. His anxiety, panic and paranoia were exacerbated the pandemic; as an essential worker and person with underlying conditions, James was at risk. He left work and doesn’t know when/if he will be able to find a job to support himself. 

James’s story is a reminder of how COVID-19 impacts the most vulnerable and how, in some cases, state programs fail to protect those who are in need of them the most. Strict requirements and the policing of who gets to be disabled, for what and why can render some Americans homeless. Strict requirements pose real consequences. 

I’ve been thinking about James a lot lately, and his campsite around the lake. I hope he’s able to enter into Willis Dady’s supportive housing program.  

See you next week.  

*Name changed for anonymity purposes. 

The path by Cedar Lake, with downtown in the distance.