By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the City Council is taking a look at the problem of street kids. On June 25, Fisher, a Brooklyn Democrat and head of the council committee on youth services, began a series of hearings on homeless youth. According to various estimates, there are 15,000 to 20,000 homeless kids in New York City. Yet there are only about 500 beds in shelters for them. While Mayor Giuliani has been pushing his "quality of life" agenda, clearing away street artists and vendors, the only attention he's given to street kids is extra police sweeps that land them in jail.
Last year, Giuliani commissioned Michael Clatts, a medical anthropologist who has worked with street youth, to study the situation. The report--which detailed in 200 pages the severe bed shortage, government agencies completely unprepared to deal with the number or type of kids, and a potential AIDS crisis-- was mentioned in an AIDS newsletter and on an NPR broadcast in March and was later suppressed. "They were bent completely out of shape in the mayor's office," says Daniel Tietz, the contractor who hired Clatts on behalf of Giuliani's office. "I was essentially told I should call Clatts and tell him 'Any more [leaks to the press] and the city's coming after you.' I had loud arguments about what the fuck is wrong with you? There's stuff in here that all of us can use." No one at the mayor's office was available for comment.
Every year, countless street kids are robbed, beaten, kidnapped, wounded, or killed. And many become prostitutes, panhandlers, drug dealers, or addicts. "They hustle, they pick pockets, they do whatever they have to do," says Santana of SafeSpace, a drop-in center run by the nonprofit Center for Children and Families.
ON A TYPICAL EVENING in Hell's Kitchen Park, a group of these kids sit playing chess, chewing on Cinnaburst gum, and talking about where they want to be. One is Custer,* who, at 21, is too old to be placed in foster care, not willing to go to adult shelters, and won't even think about going back to Bensonhurst. When he was 12, his father used to choke him until he was unconscious, he says. And then when he couldn't contribute his share of his mother's expenses, the tension got to be too much so he took off.
"Most of us are homeless because our families said, 'Fuck you,' " he says. "All I want to do is spread good karma so I can get good things and stop being angry and stop crying. I want to get my shit together. And I want to do it the right way, but unfortunately right now I have to go on the other side of the tracks, " says Custer, who gets by picking pockets. "In order to get what you really want in an expensive city like this, you have to have money. And if you don't have that dollar-dollar bill, basically, you ain't shit."
Mary,* Custer's girlfriend, left home in March, on her 18th birthday. She'd run away from her Bushwick home several times before, mostly because she was beaten by her father and didn't get along with her mother, a crack addict who has AIDS. After Mary left, her younger siblings were scooped up by the city and put into foster care. Because of her age, government agencies didn't bother to look for her. She doesn't have a clue where her siblings are. "I miss my family much, my brothers and sisters," she says. "Last time I saw them I told them if you're ever in a foster home I will find you and I will raise you myself, after I get myself back together. I'm gonna try and go back to school."
A pretty, petite young woman with shining curls who looks 16, tops, Mary worked for a while as a prostitute. But it made her sick to have to trade sex for a place to sleep. Now she makes her living pickpocketing with Custer.
Jean,* who's 19, was diagnosed with clinical depression at 14, after she tried to kill herself by swallowing every pill in her mother's medicine chest. Since then she's gone from program to program, foster home to foster home. Last year, after she finished high school at a home for girls in Massachusetts, Jean came to New York with her younger sister, who was getting abused at home. Her sister was placed with a foster family. But at 18 Jean had "aged out" of the system. Despite her tendency toward severe depression, and the fact that she's on disability insurance, the city and state expected her to make it without help.