Serving Youth in an Economic Downturn
Referrals from Other Youth-Serving Systems Boosting RHY Numbers
Bill Camp, program manager of Alternatives for Independent Youth, at Hillside Children’s Center in Rochester, N.Y., says budget cuts in his state may be to blame for an influx into his program of yet another subset of young people—youth who would be better served in foster care or mental health programs. Runaway and homeless youth programs do not serve youth in the care of the state; however, experience shows that youth run away from, or are released from, other systems, that for a variety of reasons, have not adequately equipped the youth to live independently.
“It just seems that since the fall, I’ve been working with more high-risk kids who belong to other systems, who I think years ago, they would have been placed somewhere else,” Camp says.
These young people may need intensive psychiatric treatment or long-term services that Camp’s program is not equipped for. “They traditionally don’t do as well with us because they come from such a structured environment, and they have such severe issues,” he says. “We’re lucky, because [Monroe County] is rich in services, so we’re able to pull together and be a safety net for these kids. But it’s hard work.”
Over- or under-representation of certain groups of young people may also stem from systemic biases that long predate the current economic situation. Jim Walker, executive director of Youth Services of Tulsa, in Oklahoma, says African American youth he comes into contact with often have had some experience with the juvenile justice system more often than white youth. “I believe it’s tied to poverty as much as to race,” he says.
Tailored Services
A few programs for runaway and homeless youth specialize in working with specific groups of young people. The thinking goes that programs mindfully designed for, say, Native American, LGBTQ, or pregnant and parenting youth will more successfully cater to their needs.
At Ain Dah Yung, Our Home Center, an urban Native American program in St. Paul, Minn., 70 percent of clients are Native American. Because many Native American youth have been cut off from their languages and traditions, the center not only provides basics such as food and shelter, but also cultural sustenance, says Residential Director Anthony Drews.
“We bring opportunities just to be aware of those languages and traditions,” Drews says. Activities such as sweat groups, netting, and drum groups are offered to all young people, native or not. “It’s a brief overview. We don’t have the funding to do more than that.”
The Ruth Ellis Center, in Highland Park, Mich., sees mainly LGBTQ youth. Because many staff members are gay or have worked with LGBTQ youth for a long time, they have understanding, acceptance, insight, and practical knowledge that staff of other organizations may not have, says Cleney´ Matlock, manager of the center’s drop-in center.
“If you’re working with a person that was born a boy and is living his life as a girl, when they’re applying for a job you have to sit down and help them figure out, are you going to apply as a girl or a boy?” Some youth workers might not be comfortable in such a situation, Matlock says, possibly having a chilling effect upon potential clients. So while Matlock’s services—crisis counseling, job coaching, snacks, showers, foosball, support groups—may look like those of any other drop-in center, the issues that arise and the understanding needed to address them are specific to LGBTQ youth and require staff and administrators with a commitment to treating their special needs.
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