The ugly truth about Charlotte, ‘Tent City’ and the homeless

The Charlotte community’s failure of imagination and leadership in addressing homelessness was evident long before the county health department moved in February to shut down the massive encampment of homeless people who had pitched tents along the highway in what has become known as “Tent City.”

It’s a reality residents, businesses and property owners in the North Tryon Corridor have lived with for decades as the area just north of Uptown became a magnet for people drawn by the presence of a temporary shelter and other homeless services.

Now, with the rat-infested encampment evacuated after being declared a public health risk, important questions remain about what will happen when the next encampment pops up and whether a more compassionate long-term strategy on homelessness will ever emerge.

Homelessness is a community problem for which we all must share responsibility. We cannot stand idly by as the most vulnerable among us endure inhumane living conditions.

Property owners in the North Tryon Corridor and North End Partners, a nonprofit formed in 1992 to help revitalize the area, have long advocated for better ways to meet the needs of those who have found themselves in precarious circumstances.

While Charlotte has made some strides, our elected officials largely ignored the crisis in the making at the encampment, citing CDC “guidance” that such clusters of homeless people should be left alone to minimize the risk of spreading the coronavirus. Humanity and fairness to all constituents – those in need as well as the encampment’s neighbors – should have prompted action long before the Feb. 19 evacuation.

Although people have been squatting on privately owned land along North Tryon for years, it was extraordinary nonetheless to watch the encampment take hold and mushroom over the past year. The health hazards posed by the filth and lack of basic human services was just one danger. The encampment, according to a lawsuit filed by nearby property owners, also had in effect been designated an enforcement-free zone rife with drug dealing, violent crime and sex trafficking involving minors.

How could city leaders let this happen? While it’s true CDC officials advised against breaking up homeless encampments during the pandemic, the agency almost certainly did not envision leaving our fellow citizens to live in squalor. Other cities at least made encampments safe by providing bathrooms and showers, healthcare, food service and security – none of which was offered here.

Even better, other cities are much more aggressively and effectively addressing root causes of homelessness by providing counseling, case management, job training and permanent supportive housing solutions.

In Los Angeles’ North Hollywood neighborhood, the city recently opened its first “tiny home village,” with 40 homes and 75 beds. Denver voted to allocate nearly $1 million for safe-camping sites, providing tents with heated blankets and floor pads, bathrooms and showers, and access to service providers on site. And Portland, Ore., joined Multnomah County in seeking proposals for homeless shelter alternatives to focus on “the real world for people who are suffering and living on the streets.”

Charlotte, too, has shown some innovation in recent years – thanks to the efforts of Roof Above, which runs the facilities on North Tryon. But this community’s unwillingness to act as Tent City grew exposes the ugly truth that our heart may not really be in this fight.

In addition to the human impact of our inaction, Charlotte’s growing homelessness also has become a serious barrier to the redevelopment of the North Tryon Corridor. One landowner there has seen three potential sales fall through due to the encampment. A nearby apartment community has lost tenants.

Imagine how quickly a solution would arise had tents been pitched in Romare Bearden Park or in the median along Providence Road. As is always the case with homelessness, because the encampment was out of sight of most of our community, it remained out of mind – until we could no longer look away.

As a community, we can and must do better.

This story was originally published March 8, 2021 at 12:00 AM.