I became homeless at 3. I remember that day very well. We were evicted from the house I was born in because of my stepfather doing drugs there. We lost everything-clothes, furniture, family photos, pets, and toys.
The first night we stayed at my stepfather’s foster family’s house. Then, a couple of days at my grandmother’s. Then, finally landed in my mom’s best friend’s apartment while she was in Asia.
We stayed a couple of nights in a hotel. Then a shelter for abused women. And finally got an apartment on Vermont Street. That was home for 6 years, until the landlord sold the place. We had 30 days to find a place or lose everything again.
At this time, my stepfather had gotten out of jail and went to NYC to help his family. He started using again and would promise to come home. My mom would send him travel money, but you don’t hand an addict cash, so it went in his arm instead. My mother wouldn’t make a move until he returned. And I became desperate as the eviction dates (she got 2 extensions) came closer.
One Sunday, I decided to go to church with a friend and ask God for help because clearly my parents were not taking care of business. On the way, I saw a house for sale. I brought the number home excitedly. But my mom did not respond. So little girl Eve called the realtor and set up a date to view the house.
It blows my mind today that they would have taken me seriously, but they did. We saw the house and did end up buying it with some money my mom inherited when father died.
At 11 years old, I really had my 1st house because it was my responsibility, from packing and moving in to cleaning, learning how to do DIY before the internet, and hiring repairmen. Instead of playing and being carefree, I was learning adult skills and had adult worries.
The fear of homelessness has never gone away. The house I bought after my mom passed was so cheap that if I ever lost my job, I could collect bottles and cans to pay for it.
I never wanted my own children to have the experience of homelessness so when I bought my current house, the “family compound,” I got a multi-unit building that has enough room for my dad, all 3 of my children, me, and a few house guests to live separately and comfortably.
This sounds like a success story and in a lot of ways it is. But strength, grit, and perseverance all take their tolls. I did not come through this without battle scars that still ache on a cold damp day.
Note: Eve Shippens-Nieves is a science teacher, Buffalo City School District.
Especially for Women in Buffalo, New York 