Mental Health and Homelessness

Mental Health and Homelessness: The Crisis We Can’t Keep Ignoring

Let’s keep it 100...When you see someone sleeping on a sidewalk, talking to themselves, or digging through a trash can just to eat—what’s the first thought that crosses your mind? “They’re lazy”? “They’re on drugs”? “They must’ve done something to end up like that”?

Rarely do we think: “That could’ve been me.”

 And most of us think this way... And SHAME ON US—if we’re being honest—We have trained ourselves to look away. Maybe it’s out of guilt. Maybe fear. Maybe we’re just too busy surviving our own struggles to pause. But what we often miss is that behind many of those faces is a story rooted in mental illness, trauma, and a system that failed them long before they ended up on the streets.

But here’s the truth no one wants to say out loud: many of us are one medical emergency, one lost job, one mental health crisis away from homelessness. And for millions of people in America, especially in Black and brown communities, that reality has already hit—and it hit hard.

This isn’t about personal failure. This is about a broken system that punishes people for being poor, mentally ill, or both. And today on Shalena Speaks, we’re unpacking the undeniable link between mental health and homelessness, and why we can’t keep pretending this isn’t our problem.

Let’s Talk Numbers!

The Reality of Mental Health and the Streets

According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA):

• An estimated 30% of people who are chronically homeless have a serious mental illness.

• Around 50% have co-occurring mental illness and substance use disorders.

• The National Coalition for the Homeless estimates that over 40% of homeless individuals have some form of mental health condition, ranging from PTSD and anxiety to schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

  
  

But here’s what’s  alarming

Serious mental illness (SMI) affects only about 5% of the general U.S. population—yet it's 6x more common among the homeless. And while over 580,000 people in the U.S. experience homelessness on any given night (HUD, 2023), those with mental health conditions are far more likely to remain unsheltered or cycle through hospitals, jails, and the streets.

Homelessness Isn’t Just a Housing Issue—It’s a Mental Health Crisis

The truth is, mental illness is both a cause and a consequence of homelessness.

Let’s break that down

1. Mental Illness Can Lead to Homelessness

Imagine living with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or deep clinical depression—but without health insurance, a support system, or access to consistent care.

Now imagine trying to:

• Hold down a 9-5

• Manage rent, bills, childcare

• Navigate a cold, overstretched medical system

It’s nearly impossible. For many, the symptoms—especially when untreated—lead to job loss, family breakdown, eviction, and eventually, the streets.

And for Black people, this journey often starts with misdiagnosis, underdiagnosis, or outright dismissal of symptoms by healthcare professionals. Studies show that Black individuals are more likely to be diagnosed with schizophrenia over mood disorders, even when presenting with the same symptoms as white patients.

2. Homelessness Worsens Mental Health

Now flip it.

You’re sleeping outside in the elements, getting harassed by police, dealing with hunger, shame, and isolation. That’s trauma on top of trauma. And the longer you stay unhoused, the more your mental health deteriorates.

• Insomnia from sleeping rough

• Hypervigilance from constant threats

• Depression from hopelessness

• Paranoia or psychosis from an untreated illness

This is a vicious cycle. And it’s one too many, can’t break without real intervention.

Black, Female, and Forgotten

Let’s not sugarcoat it—homelessness hits different when you're Black. And even more so when you're a Black woman. According to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD), Black Americans make up just 13% of the U.S. population, but more than 39% of the homeless population. That’s not by accident. That’s the product of structural inequality, systemic racism, and a mental health system that was never designed with us in mind.

And let’s get specific

Black women—especially single mothers—are one of the fastest-growing groups experiencing homelessness in America.

Many are fleeing domestic violence, navigating generational poverty, or suffering silently through untreated mental health issues while still trying to care for their children.

What makes it worse?

Many domestic violence shelters turn away women with children once they reach capacity.

Therapy remains a luxury—even with Medicaid—because access to culturally competent mental health providers is limited, especially in low-income areas.

And even when we do speak up? We're told we’re “angry,” “ungrateful,” “too emotional,” or “crazy.”

There’s no space for vulnerability when society expects you to be strong all the time.

There’s no healing when your pain is either invisible or mocked.

Let’s talk about LGBTQ+ Black youth, too—because many of them face a triple threat

1. Rejection from families for their gender or sexual identity

2. Discrimination from shelters that don’t know how—or don’t want—to protect them

3. And mental health struggles that go completely untreated due to stigma and fear

   
   

In fact, according to True Colors United, Black LGBTQ+ youth are 120% more likely to experience homelessness than their white counterparts. That’s staggering.

But let’s go even deeper.

What about the formerly incarcerated Black woman who served time for nonviolent offenses—maybe survival crimes like theft or drug use linked to untreated trauma—and now can’t get housing or a job?

What about the Black mothers whose children were removed by the state not because of abuse or neglect, but because of “unstable housing” or untreated mental illness, creating even more grief, trauma, and stigma?

What about the older Black women, the caretakers of generations, who now find themselves aging into homelessness after a lifetime of unpaid labor, caregiving, and systemic economic disadvantage?

These women exist. They are your neighbors. Your aunties. Your sisters. And in too many cases, they are invisible.

Mental health in the Black community has always been complex, layered in silence, prayer, strength, and survival. But we cannot pray away PTSD. We cannot manifest our way out of systemic poverty. And we cannot keep losing our sisters to a system that refuses to see them—until it’s too late.

Homelessness is not just a policy issue. It’s a racial justice issue. It’s a gender justice issue. It’s a mental health issue. And at its core, it’s a human rights issue.

We deserve better.We deserve to be seen, to be heard, and to be healed.

Mental health struggles within the Black community are often ignored or minimized. Add to that systemic racism, generational trauma, and lack of access to care—and you have a storm brewing before someone ever ends up without a roof.

Where the System Fails—Again and Again

Let’s be real: the system was never set up to save us.

• Mental health care is expensive—even with insurance.

• There’s a shortage of psychiatric beds in public hospitals.

• Most shelters don’t have trained mental health professionals.

• The criminal justice system has become a de facto mental health provider—with many incarcerated people suffering from untreated mental illness.

  
  

Instead of getting care, people are criminalized for being poor and unwell.

And that’s not just in the movies. That’s real life.

What Needs to Happen—Now

We need bold, unapologetic action on every level

• Housing First models that prioritize permanent housing, not just temporary shelter

• Universal access to mental health care—especially in Black and low-income communities. More Black therapists, counselors, and social workers who understand cultural trauma

• Mobile mental health clinics that go to the streets, not expect people to come to them

• Decriminalization of homelessness—because poverty is not a crime. Public education to erase stigma and shift the narrative

  
  

So, What Can You Do?

If you’ve made it this far, you care—and that’s powerful.

Here’s how you can show up:

• Speak up when you hear people mock or shame the unhoused

• Donate to or volunteer with mental health and housing justice orgs in your city

• Normalize therapy and mental wellness conversation, —especially in Black spaces

• Share content like this that educates, empowers, and holds people accountable

• If you see someone in distress, don’t just look away. Ask if they’re OK. Offer food, water, or information about nearby help centers. Even a kind word goes a long way.

This isn’t about charity. It’s about justice. It’s about building a world where no one gets thrown away because their brain chemistry is different or because life broke them in ways they couldn’t control.

With That Being Said...

I created this blog to talk about the things folks like to whisper about—or avoid altogether. Mental health and homelessness is one of them. But silence doesn’t heal. Conversations do.

Mental illness doesn’t make you weak. Homelessness doesn’t make you worthless.

And if you or someone you love is struggling? You are not alone.

Here we’re not just talking about what’s comfortable. We’re talking about what’s real.

So let’s keep talking. Let’s keep pushing for change. Because everyone deserves a safe place to lay their head—and a fighting chance at peace of mind.