Post by Banjo on Sept 2, 2022 9:15:40 GMT 7
I’m homeless and have a disability – yet I’m constantly forced to jump through hoops just to prove I need support
Ashleigh Chambers
We are no different to anyone else fighting to put a roof over their head, and we need to be treated equally
When I was born, doctors said I would not be able to walk, talk or feed myself. And if it wasn’t for my grandmother getting on the lounge room floor, distracting me with Elmo and Sesame Street and stretching out my muscles, that may well have been my story.
My grandmother was basically my mother from birth. Nan knew everything medical about me – what I needed, what I didn’t. When she died in 2020, my entire world fell apart. I’ve had to retrain my body to go: “This is what my Nan would have done, this is what I need to ask for.”
I have quadriplegic cerebral palsy and scoliosis, but trying to prove that I need support is incredibly hard, because my grandmother did too good a job. I’m now 31 and, at a glance, you can’t tell there’s anything physically “different” about me.
Refuge sign partially submerged by high flood waters
People are quick to assume that I don’t need help – despite the fact I’m currently homeless.
Trying to get a rental property under my own name is a nightmare, because real estate agents don’t like the look of me on paper. I’m on a full disability pension. I’m searching for work – be it casual, part-time or full-time – but it’s hard to hold down a job when you’ve got weekly medical appointments. And with no employment or rental history, you can’t secure a rental property.
I recently came out of a long-term relationship, and for the last three months, I’ve had to jump through hoops to get a roof over my head. My half-brother and his partner have taken me in, but they’re expecting a child, so this is a temporary solution.
I’ve now been offered a place in a share house that I found on Facebook, where the current two tenants were looking for another housemate. I made an inquiry and told the tenants I’m on disability pension. That didn’t matter to them but it did mean extra scrutiny. I had to meet with the landlords and give them every detail of who I am, what my disabilities are and the supports I need.
After going through this rigmarole, I’m in. Or I will be, within the next month or so if I can scrounge together enough money to make it happen. And here lies the catch.
Because I’m on the waitlist for my own house through Housing Victoria, I can’t ask the Department of Health and Human Services (DHS) for assistance for a bond, because that will knock me off the list. I eventually want to have a house of my own, and Housing Victoria will allow me to have this, permanently, without it affecting my pension.
Grace Dlabik and her son Elijah Armstrong, 19, who is quadriplegic and has cerebral palsy
One-size-fits-all model of accessible housing ‘a disaster’ for Australians with disability
Read more
I want to stay on that list until I’m approved, which means three or four years of waiting. But I can’t continue to couch surf for three or four years. My homelessness affects my mental health like nothing else. I have support around me, but I don’t like burdening other people with my issues.
So to find the bond money for my share house, I’ve had to go to the Salvos, St Vinnies and Women’s Housing Company for rental assistance. If there was an agency or organisation that helped disabled people with bonds – and even just two weeks of upfront rent – we wouldn’t be pulling our hair out. That’s the stage I’m at.
A disability pension is $1,000 a fortnight. By the time I pay for medical bills, food and living expenses, I’m left with less than $200 a fortnight. This is why I’ve decided, screw it, I’m better off looking for some kind of work if I can get it.
This week the disability royal commission is hearing stories from disabled people who’ve experienced homelessness. I hope the message that gets through is that we’re no different to anyone who is non-disabled and homeless. All we need is a little bit of support to make us level with everybody else, so we wouldn’t have to fight this hard to get a roof over our heads.
Homeless or not, disabled people are not treated equally. We need to be.
Ashleigh Chambers is an NDIS participant with cerebral palsy and scoliosis, living in Melbourne. This piece was first published on Hireup
www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/sep/02/im-homeless-and-have-a-disability-yet-im-constantly-forced-to-jump-through-hoops-just-to-prove-i-need-support
Ashleigh Chambers
We are no different to anyone else fighting to put a roof over their head, and we need to be treated equally
When I was born, doctors said I would not be able to walk, talk or feed myself. And if it wasn’t for my grandmother getting on the lounge room floor, distracting me with Elmo and Sesame Street and stretching out my muscles, that may well have been my story.
My grandmother was basically my mother from birth. Nan knew everything medical about me – what I needed, what I didn’t. When she died in 2020, my entire world fell apart. I’ve had to retrain my body to go: “This is what my Nan would have done, this is what I need to ask for.”
I have quadriplegic cerebral palsy and scoliosis, but trying to prove that I need support is incredibly hard, because my grandmother did too good a job. I’m now 31 and, at a glance, you can’t tell there’s anything physically “different” about me.
Refuge sign partially submerged by high flood waters
People are quick to assume that I don’t need help – despite the fact I’m currently homeless.
Trying to get a rental property under my own name is a nightmare, because real estate agents don’t like the look of me on paper. I’m on a full disability pension. I’m searching for work – be it casual, part-time or full-time – but it’s hard to hold down a job when you’ve got weekly medical appointments. And with no employment or rental history, you can’t secure a rental property.
I recently came out of a long-term relationship, and for the last three months, I’ve had to jump through hoops to get a roof over my head. My half-brother and his partner have taken me in, but they’re expecting a child, so this is a temporary solution.
I’ve now been offered a place in a share house that I found on Facebook, where the current two tenants were looking for another housemate. I made an inquiry and told the tenants I’m on disability pension. That didn’t matter to them but it did mean extra scrutiny. I had to meet with the landlords and give them every detail of who I am, what my disabilities are and the supports I need.
After going through this rigmarole, I’m in. Or I will be, within the next month or so if I can scrounge together enough money to make it happen. And here lies the catch.
Because I’m on the waitlist for my own house through Housing Victoria, I can’t ask the Department of Health and Human Services (DHS) for assistance for a bond, because that will knock me off the list. I eventually want to have a house of my own, and Housing Victoria will allow me to have this, permanently, without it affecting my pension.
Grace Dlabik and her son Elijah Armstrong, 19, who is quadriplegic and has cerebral palsy
One-size-fits-all model of accessible housing ‘a disaster’ for Australians with disability
Read more
I want to stay on that list until I’m approved, which means three or four years of waiting. But I can’t continue to couch surf for three or four years. My homelessness affects my mental health like nothing else. I have support around me, but I don’t like burdening other people with my issues.
So to find the bond money for my share house, I’ve had to go to the Salvos, St Vinnies and Women’s Housing Company for rental assistance. If there was an agency or organisation that helped disabled people with bonds – and even just two weeks of upfront rent – we wouldn’t be pulling our hair out. That’s the stage I’m at.
A disability pension is $1,000 a fortnight. By the time I pay for medical bills, food and living expenses, I’m left with less than $200 a fortnight. This is why I’ve decided, screw it, I’m better off looking for some kind of work if I can get it.
This week the disability royal commission is hearing stories from disabled people who’ve experienced homelessness. I hope the message that gets through is that we’re no different to anyone who is non-disabled and homeless. All we need is a little bit of support to make us level with everybody else, so we wouldn’t have to fight this hard to get a roof over our heads.
Homeless or not, disabled people are not treated equally. We need to be.
Ashleigh Chambers is an NDIS participant with cerebral palsy and scoliosis, living in Melbourne. This piece was first published on Hireup
www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/sep/02/im-homeless-and-have-a-disability-yet-im-constantly-forced-to-jump-through-hoops-just-to-prove-i-need-support
