Originally made by a team tasked to raise money from the streets for the shelter, the Homeless Voice was born from the knowledge that freedom of press was a way to raise awareness. We started as a flyer, then a 4-page newsprint, then finally becoming the voice of the homeless with the Homeless Voice newspaper and website in 1999.
The Homeless Voice is owned by the COSAC Foundation, a multi-faceted non-profit agency that feeds, shelters, and arranges access to social and medical services to every homeless person that enters its shelters. We aim to enable them to return to a self-reliant lifestyle, but for the small percentage of people incapable, we provide a caring and supportive environment for long-term residency. Contributers
In this newspaper we hope to present the problems that the homeless population faces day-to-day, the problems these people personally face, and the ways that laws can help and hinder them.
Visit us at to read past issues, see online-only content, and a full map of where you can find this paper.
Many of our vendors are clients of our shelters, brought to different major cities to vend this paper in return for a donation. Based out of Lake City — where our Veterans Inn shelter and Motel 8 is located — or Davie, they are always brought out in groups of four to help each other stay motivated and keep each other company. They’re given plenty of food and water for the day and don bright shirts to distinguish them as our vendors.
Depending on their specific job in vending this newspaper, all vendors take in about 75% of donations that day, with the remaining 25% put back into the paper.
We distribute in all major cities throughout Florida, including Tallahassee, Lake City, Jacksonville, Tampa, Orlando, Daytona, Ft. Lauderdale, Miami, and now Gainesville.
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LGBT Youth Homelessness
Youth kicked out for coming out and the shelters that see them for who they are.
By Mary Rasura
Recovery and Homelessness
Recovery requires stability, and there's help in Palm Beach County
By Mary Rasura
Where Do Women Go When Nowhere's Left?
Harder to count does not mean missing
By Mary Rasura
High Standards, Low Living
Two out of three housing application requirements are not enough.
By Mary Stewart
A Toe in the Door
Must apply online, but internet is scarce for those on the street
By Mary Stewart
High Standards, Low Living
Two out of three housing application requirements are not enough.
By Mary Stewart
When I was homeless and attending college, I was always so eager to receive my disbursement checks for living expenses. I held onto hope every semester that maybe that year, I'd secure a place to live with that money. Instead, I ended up deep in debt and remained homeless, simply because I wasn't a qualified rental applicant.
Back then, the main issues were criminal background checks and a minimum credit score. Many landlords also didn't allow smoking and some efficiencies and studios only allowed one person. I was married at the time and a smoker.
Even though I had enough funds for move-in costs and dependable income, I stayed on the streets because I didn't qualify for a place to live.
Gerry went through this as well. Every time he thought he had a place lined up, there was always one requirement that he didn't meet. He slept on a bench in a shopping plaza while working full time.
Even the caseworkers couldn't help him secure housing. Eventually, he began living in motels before finally finding a room to rent in someone's house.
“I can't afford much even with a job. Rent is outrageous. I kept getting my hopes up, but it was hard to find a place, motels were getting expensive, and I didn't like sleeping on benches after working all day. I have a place now, but I'm living with a family and have to go by their rules,” he told me.
Cliff became homeless following the loss of a job and a break up with his long-time girlfriend. He was heartbroken and couldn't hold down his job while living outdoors, nor did he bring in enough money to rent his own place. He's met several newly homeless people who are also on the streets due to ending a relationship.
“The rent is so high that it's impossible to make it without two incomes. While you're with your partner, it can be done, but once the two of you split, you no longer bring in enough money to qualify to live there,” he explained.
Charlie disagrees. He insists that landlords will rent to you or finance a trailer as long as you have good credit and dependable income. Back in the day, that was true. I remember when all I needed was deposit money and proof I was on an SSI check. As long as I could afford the rent and electric bill, I had a place to call home.
However, times had changed when I embarked on an apartment hunt in 2023. Most landlords were not requiring applicants to have an income that was twothree times the rental amount in addition to credit and background checks, and no smoking allowed. I ended up settling for a beautiful apartment in an extremely dangerous neighborhood and left because I didn't feel safe there.
Many people have begun resorting to living in shared houses. I saw several of those on the list of affordable housing options but refused to pay up to $1000 per month to share a bedroom in a huge house. Private rooms cost even more and were out of my price range. Even then, I'd have to share a kitchen and bathroom with numerous strangers.
Charlie recently tried living in a place like that. At first, he kinda liked it but quickly decided that it wasn't for him. “There was no AC or stove, and rats ate my Ramen noodles. I saw a rat with broken hind legs running in circles in the kitchen, and a lizard crawled out the bathroom sink. It wasn't worth $250 per week,” he told me.
Halfway houses are still a good option, but some people can never afford to get the whole way there. I typically go to an amazing women's halfway house
that's clean, has all the amenities, and is great for sober living. I'd pay out of pocket to stay there but can't even afford that right now. And I'd like to be able to pay off debt and save for my own place.
Charlie likes halfway houses and has spoken of both good and bad experiences. “Each place I've been in is pretty much the same. I think what needs to change is my attitude.” On the other hand, his dream is to buy an RV, and he also feels like he's not getting anywhere by living in programs.
Another issue with halfway houses is that you'll get kicked out and forfeit your rent for minor rule and curfew violations or if you slip up and drink a beer. It makes sense being that they're sober living facilities, but some people aren't ready to quit drinking.
“I enjoy drinking but will give it up to have a good job and my own place. There's no point in getting sober just to still be homeless or spend my life in and out of programs. I can go without alcohol, but drink more to cope with life out here,” Charlie explained.
I feel the same way. I've been on an SSI check since childhood, but have held down a variety of minimum wage jobs over the years. Neither government assistance, nor minimum wage will get me off the streets.
I'm not about to spend the little bit of money I have living in some group home. My only other option is homelessness. Why bother with sobriety if I'll never afford to have the life I want?
The alternative is shelters and transitional living with the Housing First model. Housing is the priority and substance abuse and mental health recovery aren't required. Monthly rent is also subsidized, allowing residents to save money. But there's drawbacks.
Where alcohol is allowed, there's also illegal drug use, and these places are often in unsafe crime ridden neighborhoods. I'm a recovering addict. I wouldn't save money if I was around drugs. It would be a disaster. Charlie couldn't agree more. “There's no way I'd go there. It's not safe. I'd be dead in six months in that environment.”
But what are the other options? Halfway houses? Room shares? A bench or tent? I miss the days when all I needed to do was pay a deposit and prove I could afford the rent. Those days are long gone.
I understand that landlords want to keep properties safe and ensure that renters are responsible and financially secure and won't stain the walls yellow. At the same time, though, those insanely high standards are contributing to homelessness.
Just because a homeless person refuses shelters, halfway houses, and rooms doesn't necessarily mean that we want to sleep outside in the sweltering heat being bit by mosquitoes or that we aren't willing to get sober.
Some of us just want a decent place of our own. We just can't live up to today's rental standards.
A Toe in the Door
Job applications have become more reliant on online forms, accounts and tests that many people on the street can't access easily.
By Mary Stewart
Iremember when I got my first job at Taco Bell at the age of 19. I didn't know much about job hunting, but it was relatively easy to find work. I took the Palm Tran bus to major shopping plazas and walked from business to business asking if they were hiring. I had a folder full of job applications. I filled them out, turned them in, and waited for a phone call.
It meant walking a lot in the Florida heat and patiently standing in lines waiting to speak to managers. Job hunting was time-consuming and grueling, but I had no problem getting hired. For many years, I repeated this process and held down multiple part-time jobs.
Resumes weren't even necessary for hourly positions, nor were there any aptitude tests, or websites to navigate. As long as the application looked good and I made an impression during the interview, I was hired. Today, job searches can be done online from the comfort of your own home. But that can make it even more complicated for those who don't have a place to call home.
Russ has his expressed frustration at the job search process, “I'm not qualified for most of the jobs online. I'll get to the end of the job description and it'll say bilingual preferred or must have valid drivers license and own vehicle, or something. There's no point in applying.”
Homeless people don't usually have the most impressive resumes. While some of us are experienced in certain occupations or even have degrees or trade certificates, most of us can either no longer work in our previous fields or have spotty work histories and gaps
in employment.
None of that looks good on major job search platforms, such as Indeed. Recently, AI has begun to sort through online resumes to help employers identify the best candidates. A great resume isn't always enough. The use of relevant keywords is sometimes necessary to give applicants an edge in the online job market.
Charlie also threw up his hands at the online application process. “I started to apply at a place where I really wanted to work. I completed the application, but then I was given a confusing personality test. They kept asking the same questions but wording them differently. I don't see what any of that has to do with working at a gas station.”
Another issue is that it's often required to set up online accounts with job platforms and prospective employers, which means that you must have a working cell phone and email address. Some homeless people have those things; Others don't. And it's hard to maintain cell numbers and email addresses on the streets.
I've gotten locked out of many online accounts due to my cell phones being lost, damaged, or stolen on the streets. And once I get a new phone number, I often struggle to get back into my email in order to fulfill two factor identification. This isn't only a big problem for those who are unhoused, but it can also problematic for sheltered homeless people whose belongings are often stolen by other residents of halfway houses and public shelters.
I've figured out the aptitude and personality tests but
still find tailoring keywords to each individual job I apply for to be more time consuming and grueling than hitting the pavement walking from business to business. I also always decline allowing AI to evaluate my applications. Lately, I've been having a really hard time getting hired. Not only does today's job application process require the applicant to be tech savvy, which many homeless people aren't, but employers have also seemed to develop higher standards. It's like they're looking for the A team and most people on the streets just don't make the cut.
Many employers now specify that being bilingual is necessary or preferable. I speak basic Spanish, but that's it. I've also been interested in positions that can use my transferable skills, but I lack required licenses, certifications, a bachelor's degree, or ‘three plus’ years experience. It's hard to even get a toe in the door, let alone an entire foot.
While I do have some homeless friends with valid drivers licenses, and in some cases, may even be living in their cars, most of us walk, ride bicycles, or take the bus. These are all still ways for someone to get to work, but given the weather and unreliability of public transportation, some employers prefer to hire applicants who have their own car.
Sometimes, I feel limited to low level hourly positionsat least until I improve my Spanish, finish my bachelor's degree, reinstate my driver's license, and buy a car. But it takes money to do those things. And even fast food joints prefer open availability which can't be offered when you ride the bus.
Russ has resorted to telemarketing jobs even though he admits he's not a good salesman and never keeps that type of job long. I've put my own job search on hold until I'm a more desirable applicant. Charlie doesn't feel the hassle is worth it.
“I'll work, but the problem is that jobs don't pay. I'm not going to go through the headache of applying online just to make $12 an hour part time. That's not going to get me off the streets. If I'm paid fairly with benefits, and it's enough to afford housing, yeah I'll apply. “
These barriers can often be overcome, but finding a job can be a full time job in itself especially for homeless people who need to become job ready prior to even applying for jobs. And how are we supposed to eat and make money in the meantime?
There are places, such as Career Source, Boca Helping Hands, and Dress for Success that can help with resume writing, LinkedIn profiles, and online job searches. Libraries also offer free workshops.
I've started using the Duolingo app and library books to improve my Spanish and am looking into finishing college or getting a professional certification. But some of these options aren't feasible for the majority of homeless people.
Fortunately, that doesn't mean that success is impossible. I have two friends who work full-time while living in their cars and showering at the gym. Another friend saved money to buy a scooter while working and sleeping on a bench. Their problem is now affording housing, but they're at least one step ahead of the game. They have jobs.
Not every homeless person is unemployed due to laziness or alcoholism. There are some very hard workers amongst the homeless population. We might need on the job training, a paper application, or a ride to work, but most of all, we just need someone to give us a chance.
Recovery and Homelessness in Palm Beach County
Homelessness adds layers of extra difficulty for those trying to recover.
By Mary Rasura
Courtney didn’t expect to stay at a queer-specific rehab facility when she entered treatment for addiction. But after years of housing insecurity, rejection, and relapse, she found something unexpected at Inspire Recovery in West Palm Beach: a reason to believe in herself.
“I just know it comes from a place of truthfulness and honesty and being seen,” Courtney said. “Being out there in addiction, no one really sees me for who I want to be seen for.”
A Black trans woman, Courtney said her experience with homelessness was marked by violence, shame, and survival sex. Previously, she had been in a “cis-hetero” rehab where she didn’t feel safe or understood. At Inspire, she found staff and residents who supported her sobriety and affirmed her identity.
For LGBTQ+ individuals, the intersection of homelessness and recovery is layered with barriers. Lack of family support, housing discrimination, and the trauma of being criminalized or fetishized often push queer individuals into cycles of addiction and unstable housing, according to a Center for American Progress 2025 study.
Sara Needleman, a staff member at Inspire, knows this
firsthand. She began her journey there as a client.
“I didn’t come out as trans until I was 25 or 26 and it was because I was drinking just to deal with all of that craziness inside of me from growing up and being told I was a man, being told I have to be a boy,” Needleman said. “And I got lucky, I mean my parents were very accepting. My mom’s bisexual so they’re very chill with it but other people aren’t so lucky.”
She’s now finishing her master’s in social work and moving into a therapist role at the facility. On top of her clinical work, she oversees grant compliance and serves as the board secretary for Transpire, the nonprofit that operates Inspire, helping ensure services continue despite funding challenges.
Needleman says clients often arrive at Inspire after cycling through various forms of unstable housing like couchsurfing, staying with abusive partners, or living on the street. Inspire offers scholarship beds, ID recovery assistance, job interview support, and connections to affirming health care providers. They also partner with organizations like Compass and The Lord’s Place for housing referrals and HIV care.
Providing shelter isn’t just logistical, she says. It’s foundational.
“Look at Maslow’s hierarchy of needs,” Needleman said. “If somebody doesn’t have shelter, if somebody can’t eat, if somebody is worried about where they’re going to sleep at night, I can’t sit in a room and do therapy with them.”
Jill Singer, a grants specialist for Palm Beach County’s Office of Behavioral Health and Substance Abuse Disorders, echoed that sentiment. She said the county is adopting a systemic approach that addresses housing, addiction, and public health together.
“You can’t make a difference in one unless you address all of the areas,” Singer said.
Palm Beach County accredits two Recovery Community Organizations: Rebel Recovery, and a county-operated hub with locations in Belle Glade, Lake Worth Beach, and Delray Beach. These RCOs offer harm reduction tools, peer support, and housing navigation for people not ready for abstinence-based treatment.
Singer noted that while the Florida Association of Recovery Residences now requires certified sober homes to accept clients on Medication-Assisted Treatment due to a Florida statute that went into effect January 1, 2025, stigma still lingers.
“That was a big plus that there was no longer as big of a stigma, I think we’re still fighting that stigma a little bit,” Singer said.
Ace, who requested a pseudonym for privacy, knows the balance of recovery and homelessness all too well. She spent years living in her car and sleeping in abandoned buildings in Little Haiti, trying to escape the concern from her family as a teenager about her substance use. She’s six years sober now, an accomplishment she credits to Alcoholics Anonymous. “I literally chose to be homeless and pretend that I wasn’t for the sole purpose of having zero accountability,” Ace said.
Ace survived off change found in the street and fruit from public trees. She refused to steal, not only as a moral stance but because she needed safe places to use the bathroom.
After multiple failed attempts at recovery, Ace was pulled into treatment after a reconnection with her family. She got sober, got custody of her daughter back, and now works the 12 steps while raising a baby and staying active in local meetings.
“I’m so glad I was homeless,” she said. “I’m so glad, there’s just so many things, little things that I’m grateful for every day because of that experience that I don’t think I would even have acknowledged.”
Now, she says she’s grateful for small things: air conditioning, access to a bathroom, and a washer and dryer. And she’s clear about one thing: not everyone who is homeless is an addict, and not everyone who’s addicted is hopeless.
“Some of them had mental health issues and no loved ones to help them,” Ace said, describing the fellow homeless people she shared space with on the streets. “Some of these people have been out there their entire lives and this is just all they knew.”
Despite systemic obstacles, Courtney, Sara, and Ace each found recovery through compassion, structure, and stability. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t quick. But it started with someone seeing them not as a problem, but as a person.
“Even in addiction, I still was trying, was still a good person,” Courtney said. “And just constantly having that be abused, it just hurts so much more and that’s when I was like ‘there’s gotta be more to life.’”
Lhadn’t intended on staying in South Florida when he flew down in February for a short vacation.
But something clicked.
“I was feeling something I’d never felt before,” he said. “Whatever was happening here, I couldn’t ignore it.”
When he told a staff member at Compass, the local LGBTQ+ community center where he had been volunteering, that he planned to live in his car just to stay in the area, help was offered. So, L stayed. Since May, he has been navigating housing instability, rotating parking lots, and finding creative ways to manage hygiene, food, and medical care while living out of his car.
A gay trans man in his early thirties, L speaks candidly about the layers of complexity that come with being unhoused and queer. From planning which Planet
"...we know how people perceive someone who’s presumably unhoused. There’s this instant downgrade in their opinion.”
Fitness locations have 24-hour bathrooms to managing hormone therapy in the Florida heat, L's experience reflects the quiet calculations required to survive — and maintain dignity — without permanent shelter.
“I can’t look homeless,” he said. “Because we know how people perceive someone who’s presumably unhoused. There’s this instant downgrade in their opinion.”
For LGBTQ+ people, the experience of homelessness is often shaped not just by economic precarity, but by safety concerns and social stigma. According to the National Alliance to End Homelessness, young adults aged 18-24 who identify as gay or transgender are twice as likely to experience homelessness compared to straight young adults.
And for trans adults like L, using the bathroom while homeless is not just a logistical hurdle.
“I don’t have the luxury, being trans, of just using the
bathroom in a normal way like I just hike up against the tree,” L said. “I don’t have that option.” He said he prefers to drive somewhere to use the bathroom so he doesn’t have to risk outing himself.
Compass, where L still volunteers regularly, offers a range of services to help LGBTQ+ individuals experiencing housing instability. According to Latisha Gonzalez, the organization’s Program Marketing and Media Director, Compass provides access to computers for job and benefits applications, harm reduction supplies, mental health referrals, HIV testing, and connections to partner organizations in the community,
“Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of funding for housing at this moment, so we do as much as we can with the resources that we have available,” Gonzalez said. Despite limited funding, the center remains a hub
for connection. For L, it’s been a lifeline, not only for tangible resources, but for a sense of belonging.
“I’ve been doing this a long time, very alone, very stealth, very let me blend in and just get along. I made it over 30 years without a community, so maybe I didn't need one,” L said. “But whatever feeling I was having, I was like ‘I have to have more of this,’ because it’s giving me something that’s making me feel very whole, very well rounded.”
That sense of purpose has become the reason L stays, even through 90-degree nights in a car and food budgeting that leaves just two dollars a day. L continues to volunteer, share knowledge, and build community, even when others don’t know he’s doing it all without a home.
“I don't want to be defined by it or treated differently by it,” L said. “I do a lot of the volunteering, but I don't
Henry Scott Tuke
want to ever be in a situation where anything feels transactional. I'm doing things because I want to do things, and I just happen to sleep in my car.”
Still, the reality is fragile. One parking citation, one impounded car, one missed testosterone shot, and everything could unravel.
“There's a lot tied up in that, having my car, having the mobility,” L said. “That my whole life's in there.”
“I have to be doing shots weekly for the rest of my life,” L continued. “If my whole stash was lost, my body would fall apart very, very quickly.”
And yet, L remains grounded by conviction.
“I get asked ‘Do you think you're going to still be doing this a year from now?’ And I was like ‘I don't know what I'm going to be doing a week from now,’” L said. “As long as I'm still doing something that feels purposeful, I'm going to keep doing that thing.”
"Green and Gold" by
Where Women Go When Nowhere's Left
By Mary Rasura
Dana, 61, spent months living in a Super 8 motel, recovering from surgery on her own while teaching herself how to walk again using a small ladder she bought. She had no idea where she’d go once the money ran out.
“God works in mysterious ways,” Dana said, recalling the moment she got a call from a local shelter with an open bed. A few days later, she moved into Burckle Place, a transitional housing facility for women in Palm Beach County, where she’s been living since April 2024.
According to Joey Nieves, Director of Homeless Outreach at The Lord’s Place, women experiencing homelessness often face increased vulnerability to physical and sexual violence, which can lead them to form codependent relationships for protection. He says factors like domestic violence, mental health struggles, and lack of income are major drivers of women’s homelessness in South Florida. Programs like Burckle Place are designed to address these genderspecific needs by offering transitional housing, life skills training, and trauma-informed support in a womenonly environment.
“The outrageous rent prices in Florida have affected everyone, but we have especially seen an increase in the number of single mothers with underage children who have been forced into homelessness as a result of being priced out of local rentals,” said Nieves. “The cost of two and three bedroom units far exceeds the average income for the single parents that we encounter.”
Dana is one of 21 women currently housed at Burckle Place’s cross-generational campus. She said she offers advice to the younger women and has made several friends.
“We have conversations and we might go to the store, just doing things and enjoying life,” Dana said. “This place right here is a beautiful place to be because you have time to think about what you’re going to do when you leave here.”
She hopes to return to South Carolina, where she says it’s easier to find work and rent isn’t $1,200 for a one bedroom.
Another transitional option is The Lord’s Place which operates several gender-specific programs in Palm Beach County, including other campuses that together
offer dozens of transitional housing beds exclusively for women.
“Women tend to get off the street quicker than a man would because their vulnerability index is a lot higher than a single male’s,” Nieves said.
A 2024 report from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development supports his sentiment, finding that women made up only 30% of the homeless population with 72% of them in shelters.
Recent state policies have also complicated things. Florida’s 2024 anti-camping law, which prohibits people from sleeping in public spaces overnight, has pushed many unhoused individuals into more isolated, less visible locations. Nieves says women have reported entering relationships with men purely for safety in these secluded environments.
Despite these challenges, places like Burckle Place aim to provide more than just a roof. They offer group therapy, job coaching, and wellness workshops to help residents rebuild their lives.
“It’s very helpful to me,” Dana said. “And you can get something out of it if you really put your mind to it.”
