A few things I learned during the pandemic: What stay-at-home orders mean for people who don’t have housing. How to make a handwashing station out of a trash can. Why “set it and forget it” is a recipe for irrelevance. And when the flight safety instruction “put your own oxygen mask on before helping others” applies on the ground.
These lessons stand out in a year in which LavaMaeˣ, the organization I lead, quickly re-engineered our direct service delivery while implementing a new consulting model — and ended up better prepared than ever to change the way the world sees and serves our unhoused neighbors.
One shift on top of another
We started out the year with a new focus and a new name. In our previous incarnation as Lava Mae, we were primarily a direct service provider, delivering mobile showers and other on-the-street hygiene programs to unhoused people in the San Francisco Bay Area and Los Angeles. We’d received over 4,500 requests to bring our services to other communities since our 2014 launch, so in 2018 we created a mobile hygiene toolkit to help people do it themselves. When that was downloaded over 3,000 times, we realized we could have the greatest impact by teaching others to set up programs like ours tailored to local needs.
We shifted our focus in late 2019 to building a worldwide network of community-based enterprises trained in our Radical Hospitality approach to providing mobile showers and other critical services. At the same time, we committed to maintaining our core direct services as a way to stay connected to unhoused people and offer real-world training to new providers. We rebranded as LavaMaeˣ and our street service team began reinventing themselves as consultants. They were up for it, but it was a big change, and I urged everyone to “be comfortable with being uncomfortable.”
Little did I know how relevant that mantra would become. When COVID-19 hit in March, we had to suspend street programs — mobile showers and Pop-Up Care Villages, where guests can get haircuts, medical care, legal advice, employment assistance and other free services — and it wasn’t clear that replicators could provide them either. With the risk of airborne virus transmission, the team agreed it wasn’t safe to host large groups of people. We weren’t trained to deliver shower service in a pandemic and we couldn’t secure the appropriate PPE gear. We felt defeated, unmoored and fearful. But we all agreed on one thing: we would not leave the people we serve — our guests — behind.
New ways to serve: learning from the lockdown
One of our team members, Annie Stickel, had a simple idea: We have a warehouse stocked with hygiene supplies for shower service — soap, conditioner, razors, toothbrushes, toothpaste, socks and more. Why not assemble kits and bring them to places where unhoused people congregate?
Two weeks after we suspended shower service, we began delivering about 250 kits a week to each of our locations in LA, Oakland and San Francisco. We spent most of our time canvassing the streets, asking basic questions: Where have our guests gone? What do they need? And most of all, how are they doing? What we found was heartbreaking. Many of their go-to resources for bare necessities like drinkable water, food and clothing had disappeared overnight. They worried that they risked COVID-19 infection if they sought healthcare at hospitals or clinics. And they feared being moved out of locations where they had formed communities.
We listened to people’s needs and sought out in-kind donations so that we could add critical items to our kits. These included drinking water as well as masks, hand sanitizer, gloves and body wipes. Our partners on the University of California San Francisco Street Nursing Team mobilized alongside us to deliver wound care and menstrual kits, conduct health checks and make real-time referrals to hospitals and clinics.