She used to have a job, a house and a marriage with children. Now she lives in a park and she is trying to make peace with it.
When Jennifer Flores, 42, lays in her tent during a sleepless night, she starts dreaming of a different life. That’s the only way she can make it through the lonely and claustrophobic hours.
Her tent is cramped with all her belongings, no airflow, bugs and a moist ground. There are also a ton of worries: Where am I going to go to the bathroom next? How am I going to get breakfast? Is this the way I’m going to die?
“I think of my goals, my hopes, what ifs. If I’m ever going to have a future,” she said during a recent interview outside her tent at Echo Park. She is one of the more than 50,000 homeless residents in Los Angeles, making it the second largest homeless population in the country.
For the last few months, Jennifer’s home has been among other tents, an illegal community off Glendale Blvd and one law enforcement can dismantle at any time.
Surrounded by leafy trees, strolling families and a lake with lotus flowers, the setting is idyllic.
“In the morning, I hear ducks and see the geyser [fountain]. It makes it a little more tranquil to live like this. Actually, it’s a million-dollar view.”
It’s been a long and complicated journey to her million-dollar view, like most of the journeys that make the homeless and housing unstable community.
She had an abusive mother and began living with family and boyfriends starting at the age of 13. At 20, she was married with two kids, but her husband was abusive too.
Raised Mormon, Jennifer had never been a drinker until her kids were taken away when her mother-in-law called child protection, she says.
“She saw I was falling apart, with a black eye and a cracked foot. My husband dealt with guns and drugs,” she said. “At that time, the best decision that I’ve ever made was to call my aunt to get and save my kids.”
After that, Jennifer started – what she calls – a road of nightmare that moved her from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Her children now live with her aunt.
“When I first got homeless on Skid Row, I thought I could easily bounce back to the society and get a job. That couldn’t be further from the truth,” she says now.
The homeless years, on and off housing, have humbled her greatly. Only on the streets, she has discovered who she really is and what her strengths are.
“I didn’t know I was resilient. I have a great knowledge of people. I’ve been blessed to have the understanding that money isn’t what this is about. It’s about learning how to adapt. Loving your fellow man,” she says.
Jennifer has also learned she can’t keep self-medicating with alcohol, so now she goes to AA meetings and meditates.
“This all humbled me to a point where I was able to look at myself: OK, this sucks, but you know what – let’s make the best of it. I’m going to move forward even with baby steps. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. We all make mistakes.”
She applies for jobs at the library nearly every day, but there are many additional challenges to getting and maintaining a job when you are homeless.
“I’ve lost quite a few jobs that I’m qualified for because of the lack of being able to keep myself up.”
Without a shower, hairdryer and other necessities it’s difficult to get yourself ready for work, Jennifer says. Another headache is how to get photocopies of resumes or move from one place to another.
Somebody has to guard her belongings when she’s away too.
When people using the park walk by her tarp-covered tent, Jennifer puts on a smile and makes sure to say good morning.
She rarely gets a reply.
“They view you as drug addicts, uneducated, scum of the earth,” she said. “They don’t want their kids around you. So, I just take a deep breath and accept that person for whatever they’re going through to make them feel scared.”
Jennifer understands why people are scared, because she was too when she first faced homelessness. It’s the fearfulness of the unknown, she says.
“But do not judge a book by its cover. They’re moms, dads. They might have the raggedy clothes, but they have feelings. Some of them are so highly intelligent that you’re just blown away by the situation that economically has placed them in a tent.”
If she ever gets her own place, she will never stop cherishing a toilet, a fridge or running water, Jennifer swears. A door she can lock.
“They’re gold. I will never take for granted that I wake up in the morning and I’m still alive. And feeling good about myself, I’ll never take that for granted.”
Jennifer thinks of her kids every day, but knows that it’s better she stays out of the picture. She’s grateful that they have more opportunities than she ever had.
“They don’t need to know about my baggage. I do not want to bring them into a life of poverty, sadness and anything that has to do with not being positive,” she said.
Jennifer made the decision to go back to school to get a degree in business management at Los Angeles City College.
“My one dream is to finish that bachelor’s degree to say: I have overcome all this. I have this little piece of paper and that’s me. I made it,” she says with watery eyes.
When you see a homeless tent, you may not fully appreciate the thoughtfulness and strategy it takes to survive in the streets. Through this augmented reality experience Jennifer will give you a tour of her Echo Park tent through Snapchat.
Or click on this link: http://bit.ly/jovrnalism-hr-jennifer
For help on how to unlock and use Snapchat Lenses: https://homelessrealities.jovrnalism.io/2018/12/01/how-to-unlock-and-use-snapchat-lenses/
UPDATE: By the time the story was published, Jennifer Flores left Echo Park and has moved into transitional housing. She doesn’t know what her future will bring, including if she’ll end up in a tent again.
