Tenants of 285 Turk Street gathered on the steps of San Francisco City Hall on Tuesday. They were protesting rent increases levied against them by their new landlord, real estate mogul Neveo Mosser. They were joined by housing activists and Supervisor Jane Kim. The tenants—including single moms, seniors on fixed incomes, and undocumented immigrants—are facing immediate rent increases of five to 25 percent, which will go into effect on October 1st.

Mosser originally bought the building in 2016 and promptly informed the tenants that rents would go up by ten percent.

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My name is Zak Franet, and I am incredibly excited to be writing for the Street Sheet’s Youth Edition. As a homeless advocate with lived experience, I could not stress the importance more of providing personal testimonials around the issue of homelessness, and as such, applaud the Coalition on Homelessness’s efforts to bring our stories into the light.

I am 23 years old and heavily involved in advocacy and youth empowerment in the City.

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Frustrated by the constraints of my mind,

the fact that I walk in the room and gotta command space, cuz according to colonization, space

aint rightfully mines

the fact that patriarchy got me messed up, telling girls in saudi arabia that they can’t go to

school, tellin my home grrrls in the barrio that their worth ain’t nothing unless their stomach is

baby full

promoting marriage and child rearing amongst young low income women of color,

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THESE PEOPLE

Asleep in a drop in center in the middle of the night

I heard these words, left suspended in the air.

“What’s wrong with ‘these people’?”

These people, said by someone whose job it is to serve and help.

If you don’t like, “these people,” why are you even here?

Too often those managing the homeless see themselves as baby sitters

And treat the clients as such.

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My name is Anastazia. I use she and they pronouns. Homelessness affects many people. A community it affects strongly and most personally, for me, is the Trans and Gender Nonconforming communities. As someone who identifies as Trans and Gender Nonconforming and someone who was formerly homeless, it was difficult to navigate a system of binary shelters in the city. I would fear to sleep in men’s shelters as I did not feel safe, because I did not identify as male.

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Every two minutes a child enters the foster care system due to a traumatic event such as abuse, neglect, abandonment, or sudden parental death in the household. They are ripped from their home and thrown into a new one with strangers who are now supposed to be their new family. Sometimes, this is the end of the story, but most of the time, the child continues to be moved from one place to another.

Let’s meet Emily,

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I’m a Gypsy, at least in the modern-day Western sense of the term. I live with no home because I move around too much to put effort into owning one. I’ve been in San Franshitshow for three months, and I have a full-blown memoir of stupid shit the cops have done since I’ve been here. I’m convinced that nothing would’ve happened if I had a house and a job.

During my time on the Haight,

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San Francisco…I always thought about running to the little city by the bay for the longest time growing up, and as I got older the voice in my head started to get louder. Now at the ripe age of 22, I have a place in the city to call home for the next two years, thanks to Larkin Street Youth Services.

Getting here did not come without struggle. My background is as part of the LGBT community,

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My name is Anubi. I was born and raised in San Francisco. I am a formerly homeless transitional-age youth.

My story began in the late fall of 1993. I was the product of a last-ditch effort to save a failing marriage, and I felt it pretty early on. My brother took the ensuing divorce even harder because he was ten years older than me. Both of my parents are natives of the city,

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Raymond was 22 years old when we buried him. He is alive in our memories and always will be. We called him Salamander. He was a good kid, full of imaginations and always good for a laugh. Like most of us on the streets, he had his dreams, dreams that will now never be realized.  Sal was a good friend and would have been a good father had we not buried him six months before his daughter was born.

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