When Joe Martin became a father, he wanted to give his children the stability he never experienced growing up. For six years after his separation, he lived with his daughter and son in the same trailer park, close to family, in Talala near Oologah. Sometimes Martin, 41, was late on rent, but he always caught up, paying with the wages he earned from butchering or other hard labor.
He and his children were about to join the ranks of the invisible homeless, a problem so prevalent in Oklahoma that experts estimate the numbers in the thousands.
When a new Utah-based landlord bought Fair View Mobile Homes last year, there was suddenly no more leniency. In October, Martin was waiting for some money to come in, but the new landlord, Jordan Lee, threatened to evict for nonpayment of rent immediately, as Oklahoma Watch reported last year.
“I’ve dealt with some rough landlords over the years,” Martin said. “I’ve dealt with many slumlords. This was just insane.”
Martin wasn’t sure he wanted to pay someone so aggressive. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to buy his trailer. Lee, who often boasted on social media about his real estate successes, justified a sudden 40% rent hike as the price tag for Martin eventually owning his home. But the trailer had a broken window, an unsafe porch and a leaking roof, problems Lee refused to fix.
Martin went back and forth for about a month and a half on whether to stay, until he was served an eviction notice and threatened with a visit from sheriff’s deputies. Showing up to court wasn’t possible; Martin was working out of state. So he spent Thanksgiving alone in the trailer, packing up what he could, while his kids visited with their mother.
The holidays counterintuitively marked the start of more separation for the usually close-knit trio. Martin moved into a hotel near Oologah, clocking extra hours pouring concrete to earn the $110 nightly room rate. The work was brutal, but Martin described losing his routine with his children as the hardest part.
“Before, we were always together,” Martin said. “Our lives were completely upended.”
Martin was technically homeless, but neither he nor his children were counted in the annual January effort that sees volunteers gathering data on how many people are unhoused. The Department of Housing and Urban Development’s required Point-in-Time count is tied to funding for services. Advocates see it as necessary, but it’s notorious for its inadequacy, as people with the most going on, like Martin, are often missed.
And Martin’s experience of homelessness was just beginning. Over the next few months, he and his children would struggle with so-called invisible homelessness, a situation still so common that some cities estimate those dealing with it could fill stadiums. And the problem is expected to get worse.
It Depends on the Weather
Stacee Capps, a case manager for the Northeast Oklahoma Community Action Agency, distributes grant-funded emergency housing assistance to people dealing with literal homelessness, or the type of homelessness that’s easily seen. But Capps, who is based in Jay, said there are many who don’t register as homeless during January’s count.
“It depends on the weather,” Capps said. “Let’s say it’s snowing, below freezing. People are going to take refuge wherever they can, so the people doing the count cannot find them.”
Then there’s how HUD defines homelessness. Couch surfers or those paying out of pocket for hotels, like Joe Martin, wouldn’t count because they don’t meet HUD’s definition of literal homelessness. Becoming more visible later in the year wouldn’t matter, either, because the Point-in-Time count is restricted to a single night.
“It’s just a once-a-year thing,” said Capps. “You cannot get accurate numbers with a once-a-year thing.”
Still, Point-in-Time count numbers show a significant increase in unsheltered Oklahoma families. In 2020, 86 people in unsheltered families were counted. That number was 238 by last year, a nearly 177% jump. As wages lag behind rent and affordable housing shortages persist, situations like Martin’s are becoming more common, even if they aren’t becoming more obvious.
“In every community, there are homeless people who aren’t seen,” said Capps.
They Grew Up Here
A determined few, like Janice Bell, have tried to fill in the service gaps. Bell and a few others in Pryor got together to figure out how to solicit donations for the needy. Things started slow, but Bell chalked her eventual success up to divine intervention.
“I don’t solicit anything,” said Bell. “It just happens. And I know why. It’s because God is providing.”
In 2017, Bell, an evangelical Protestant, had a vision. She was overtaken with the notion that she must open a resource center. In Christianity, seven is a perfect number. Bell’s center would have seven service divisions for the impoverished, though she described the number as being a coincidence. She started small, initially offering free monthly church dinners.
It took five months for the dinners to become weekly. Three years later, Bell moved out of the church and into a building with enough room for a clothing closet. Once she realized there was more need, she expanded with a day facility, a place where people could rest, take showers, and eat. She started a tax-exempt nonprofit and called her effort the Impact Center.
Bell continued to chase her vision. She began to let people sleep outside the center. For 13 months, 16 to 20 tents were allowed on the center’s grounds. Bell estimated helping as many as 250 people during that period. But not everyone agreed with her mission. Despite having few services in the area, the city of Pryor Creek objected to Bell’s set-up that she emphasized was safe and clean. She was issued citations and eventually forbid overnight guests.
“The claim is that they’re transients, passing through, they’re going from one place to the next,” said Bell. “However, if you get to know the people who are actually homeless, they are long-time Mayes County residents. They grew up as children here, they have family here. They have a full history of being in our area.”
Bell said she met people enduring all sorts of circumstances, from chronic homelessness to situations lasting a single night. Her guests have been included in HUD’s Point-in-Time count, though she said critics would prefer unhoused folks be encouraged to move out of Pryor altogether.
“In my personal opinion, that is the goal of many in the community,” Bell said.
Bell isn’t surprised that homelessness among families has risen so dramatically. People with children in tow have sought help at Impact Center. But she said it’s far more common to meet parents who’ve lost custody of their children, just like Joe Martin is now facing.
Only So Much You Can Do
Homelessness is expected to get worse in the coming years. Experts said the Trump administration’s move away from Housing First, a celebrated policy that prioritizes shelter before dealing with problems like addiction, will put more than 100,000 people, including families with children, at risk of homelessness.
Trump’s mandate compelling service providers to spend less on housing in favor of funding a Treatment First model is on hold. If the policy were to become law, critics said, a dramatic and ineffective shift in the way housing aid funds are spent would result.
Little of that aid reached Joe Martin, anyway. Just before Christmas, Martin switched to a cheaper hotel in Claremore, near his ex-wife. It was a move he initially resisted because he didn’t want his children to change schools, but he needed their mother’s support. The new room was $70 a night. Over the holiday, the little family watched movies and played with gifts picked up from a charity drive.
“We liked being together,” Martin said. “We enjoyed the time together, but there’s only so much you can do in a hotel room.”
Martin estimated he spent more than $1,000 in less than a month on hotels, money that could have gone to a more stable housing situation had he not been in crisis. But after about a week in Claremore, he got a break: a family friend offered him a room. There were other strokes of luck, too. Martin found a stable job in the Claremore area. It involved tree work, something he tried to avoid because of several prior accidents, but the job was local and familiar. A friend also insisted on helping him buy a car, an experience he described as moving.
Around the same time, however, Martin’s ex began to raise objections about his unstable living situation; the kids were missing too much school due to the turmoil. Martin’s now doing his best to keep his family together. He has a GoFundMe and hopes to live down the eviction he marks as the start of his current troubles. He’s never been faint of heart, though.
“I’ve pulled tougher out before when I had to,” Martin said.
Oklahoma Watch, at oklahomawatch.org, is a nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization that covers public-policy issues facing the state.
