As South Yakima Avenue shows, Tacoma's homelessness crisis has reached a tipping point

Jul. 23—The tension is building in Tacoma, and it's palpable.

In many places throughout the city — like Yakima Avenue or near the I-705 underpass downtown — it's hard not to feel like Tacoma is quickly losing ground in its effort to address homelessness, and there's little question why.

Four years after city officials declared homelessness a public health emergency, the problem appears more dire than ever. There are more tents and encampments. There's more unnecessary human suffering on daily display. After spending millions upon millions of dollars in hopes of making things better, to the average eye very little seems to have changed. If anything, the situation feels like it has deteriorated.

So what are we going to do?

No, really. What are we doing to do?

Because it can't go on like this — for anyone.

In what's become a conversation fraught with division and political polarization — not to mention healthy doses of toxic dehumanization of those living on the street — this is about the only statement you can make that won't quickly elicit outrage and indignation, which is a sad and telling part of the problem. Everyone seems to agree that we're in the midst of a crisis that demands an answer. No one seems to know or agree on what that answer is.

Still, in Tacoma, one thing is quickly becoming apparent: If the city can't find a way to stanch the bleeding — and identify solutions that provide dignity and real alternatives for people surviving in encampments while also making local residents and businesses feel safe in their neighborhoods — it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.

It's either a crossroads or a tipping point, but something has to happen — and soon. Human lives are at stake, but so is the community's trust in the government's ability to respond. Once that's lost, all bets are off, and those who need help the most will be hit the hardest. It should shock precisely no one that fed-up business interests and residents are attempting to rewrite Seattle's homeless policy via a divisive and controversial ballot initiative. That's what happens when the situation erupts and too many lose trust in the system. It's also a future Tacoma should try to avoid.

Corey Gaffney, the 44-year-old fourth generation owner of Gaffney Funeral Home, knows how complicated the problem of homelessness can be. From his Yakima Avenue office — which his grandfather built and opened in 1932 — he's encountered plenty of it over the years, he says.

Like others along his block, Gaffney says the situation over the last two years near his family business has devolved to the point that he now regularly worries for the safety of his staff and the grieving who come in search of solace. Recently, he said, he was forced to install a large wrought iron gate at the front of his property. On Tuesday, he told me that he's considering abandoning Yakima Avenue altogether.

When he did so he didn't sound angry or irrational or like someone who's spent far too much time on the Nextdoor app.

Yes, he believes that city laws against trespassing and vandalism should be better enforced — and he has the kind of stories you'd expect from someone with these views — but Gaffney mainly sounded tired.

"Even though he built this building, I think my grandfather would look me in the eye and say, 'It's time to move. You can do this work elsewhere,'" Gaffney said, describing the possibility of leaving a building that's been in his family for nearly 90 years.

"I'm on the fence, but what may be the best path forward is for us to relocate," he continued.

"And that's sad."

While Gaffney has more name recognition than most — given the important role his family has played providing funeral services in Tacoma over the years — he's not alone. Down the street, Colby Parks has practiced law on Yakima Avenue for 14 years.

Like Gaffney, Parks acknowledged that the problem of homelessness is complex and remained adamant that the city's response should be rooted firmly in compassion. He knows encampment sweeps aren't the answer, and the COVID-19 pandemic has complicated matters over the last 16 months. He also knows the city is trying.

Most of all, Parks knows it's becoming more and more difficult to run a law office with a growing encampment right outside his door.

"My concern is that at some point, our neighborhood's condition is going to start having long-term effects on the downtown core, and the ability of people to do business downtown. I think that's a fair concern to have, don't you?" Parks said. "I don't think that's anything that makes me unforgiving or less than compassionate."

Importantly, Parks said, he isn't searching for a magical solution to a societal problem, just something local to believe in, and faith that things will get better.

Not far from Parks' office, 46-year-old Kenneth Fowlkes expressed a similar sentiment.

The only difference is that Fowlkes has been living in a tent along Yakima Avenue for the last six weeks.

On Thursday, as the early afternoon sun began to bake the asphalt, Fowlkes said he also wants things to change — more than anything.

"I'm a human being. I'm not a squirrel or anything that lives under a tree," Fowlkes said. "I'm here. I don't want to be here, and I wish I wasn't here. Anybody down here, if we were offered a better situation or opportunity, we'd jump on it."

"Every second of the day I hope something changes for me. I will do whatever it takes. I'm just in a situation I can't even get out of," he continued. "And a lot of us feel that way, because there's nothing safe about this. It's inhumane."

If you listen closely, it sure sounds like one more thing we can all agree on, which should provide a starting point.

But, for Tacoma, the question remains:

What are we going to do about it?

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