The first full-fledged count of Marin’s homeless population since the pandemic began found the population rose 8.4 percent from 2019 to 2022, or from 1,034 to 1,121 people. That growth has been largely attributed to turmoil caused by Covid-19 but hasn’t been helped by additional factors like high housing costs and inflation.
The growth is a reversal from declines in homelessness, particularly chronic homelessness, seen since the county turned to a housing-first approach in 2017—a strategy that prioritizes housing individuals before or while securing them services, rather than forcing people to go through hoops to prove they are ready for housing. “We have been hearing anecdotally from providers since pretty early in Covid that they were seeing a big increase in requests for help,” said Carrie Sager, a senior homelessness policy analyst for the county.
But it would have been worse without government and nonprofit assistance that came from multiple fronts. The county has distributed over $38 million in pandemic-related rental assistance, mostly from state and federal funding but also its own coffers and the Marin Community Foundation.
Last year, the county delayed a full point-in-time homeless count, which is typically conducted every other year. Instead, it counted those living in cars and R.V.s, finding this population had almost doubled since 2019. County officials did not think this year’s count, conducted on Feb. 17, would show a steep jump, but they weren’t sure how drastic a shift to expect. Though any increase is concerning, Ms. Sager said, 8 percent isn’t as bad as it could have been.
So how exactly did the pandemic impact homelessness? There isn’t one answer, but Ms. Sager pointed out a few factors. When people lose housing, they usually turn to family or friends for a temporary place to stay. But Covid meant more people, especially those with health issues, might hesitate to take in loved ones, especially those working public-facing jobs, fearing the risk of added exposure. And though the eviction moratorium and rental funds were significant, some people lost jobs early in the pandemic and moved out of their homes before financial assistance became available, worried about building up huge amounts in back rent. Some people are also otherwise vulnerable or undocumented and may fear asserting their rental rights.
Fatai Tokolahi, the West Marin lead for one of Community Action Marin’s care teams, connects homeless in the area to housing and other services—transporting people to medical appointments, picking up food at food banks and assisting with paperwork to access benefits like CalFresh. He said Covid was partly to blame for the increase, but in West Marin he saw other issues, too. For instance, he’s encountered people who have been squatting in barebones structures like sheds who perhaps until now hadn’t been counted, “coming out of the woodwork” because they are getting older or developing health issues.
Since the county adopted the housing-first strategy, many have been assisted with “rapid rehousing,” meaning short- or medium-term assistance, while 478 people have been placed in permanent supportive housing, which usually mixes longer-term voucher assistance with case management. The county is continuing to increase that number. Yet the number of people in such supportive housing in West Marin remains low.
“I think there’s like one,” Ms. Sager said, adding that the dearth of housing on the coast and the challenges of finding landlords to accept vouchers make it extremely difficult. “If any West Marin landlords are interested in accepting vouchers, please contact me,” she said.
Mr. Tokolahi said in his 18 months working in West Marin, he had housed roughly a handful of folks, one in Point Reyes Station. “We were so happy for her,” he said. Others have been housed over the hill, although some don’t want to leave the area. “They do not want to leave West Marin, but the housing opportunities there are just not looking good for them,” he said.