Content warning: This article includes descriptions of sexual assault.
Kiara Meza, a pregnant 24-year-old mother of two, crawled around on the floor in pain. She had tried to convince the staff at her city-funded youth housing program to call an ambulance, but they couldn’t understand her Spanish, and didn’t find a way to translate, she said.
Meza, a Peruvian native, primarily speaks Spanish. She enjoys music, dreams of being an esthetician, and is a devoted mother. Since she arrived in D.C. a year ago, she’s bounced from shelter to shelter. At most of them, she said, none of the staff spoke Spanish. The language barrier was often frustrating, but when she developed a severe kidney infection in January, it became dangerous.
“She never called the ambulance,” Meza said of a staff member at the youth housing program she was staying at, run by Covenant House, which is partially funded by the city. “I couldn’t even stand up myself.”
During the event, Meza says staff at Covenant House did not attempt to use the city’s Language Line to get a translator, even though city-funded services, including shelter and transitional housing programs, are mandated to be language accessible per the 2004 Language Access Act, and the city provides free access to translation through the Language Line. According to Angela Jones Hackley, Covenant House’s CEO, staff are trained on and instructed to use the Language Line as the “first and only mechanism.” But that wasn’t Meza’s experience.
Eventually, Meza reached her bilingual caseworker at SMYAL, a youth homelessness service provider, who called an ambulance for her.
But Meza’s story is not an isolated one. Language barriers in the D.C. shelter system have repeatedly caused harm to people experiencing homelessness, advocates and people experiencing homelessness say, despite the existence of resources like Language Line. The consequences of language barriers can be grave: shelter seekers can be turned away, taken advantage of, or experience abuse.
“Language access is a problem within every facet of the homelessness system,” Carmen Thorpe, a community navigator with District Bridges, a homelessness service provider, told Street Sense. Thorpe, who’s bilingual, works primarily with Latino and Spanish-speaking men who are experiencing homelessness in Mount Pleasant. “Even just meeting clients for the first time, they’re so excited that someone can speak Spanish, it’s an insurmountable barrier for a lot of them,” Thorpe said.
In late April, Ruth Nivar, a former employee at the D.C. Department of Human Services (DHS), was sentenced to two years in federal prison for extorting non-English speakers applying for government assistance between 2018 and 2023, according to reporting from the Washington Post.
But despite the flags that may have been raised by Nivar’s actions, extensive issues with language access persist across the homelessness services system, particularly in DHS-funded shelters, according to outreach workers who serve primarily non-English speaking clients. Thorpe, as well as Andres Meza (no relation to Kiara Meza) and Sierra Barnedo, who are both caseworkers at SMYAL and primarily serve Spanish-speaking youth, say most shelter and program staff aren’t bilingual and oftentimes are unable to communicate with their non-English speaking clients, despite government requirements.
As part of this story, Street Sense reporters conducted a language audit of low-barrier shelters, which receive funding from DHS, mandating they be language accessible. Journalists called the eight low-barrier shelters listed by DHS, as well as the shelter hotline. They identified themselves as journalists, in Spanish, before asking questions about language access.
When reporters called the shelter hotline, which is how most people seeking shelter would reach out to find out about available beds or request transportation, staff used the Language Line, an over-the-telephone interpretation service, to communicate. But when reporters called individual shelters to understand how front desk staff at these facilities might respond to non-English speakers after they had been referred via the hotline or entered the facility, they found Language Line use and bilingual staff were scarce.
Only at one shelter — New York Avenue — did reporters reach a Spanish-speaking staff member, and only one shelter — Pat Handy — had a Spanish-speaking menu option.
At a number of other low-barrier shelters, including Adams Place, Harriet Tubman, Emery, and 801 East, staff hung up on reporters either immediately or after briefly saying they didn’t speak Spanish. When reporters asked about translation, staff did not attempt to call the Language Line or reach an interpreter. At one facility, staff indicated they would call back with a translator, but never did. Reporters completed multiple rounds of calls at different times of day with consistent results.
According to a spokesperson from DHS, which oversees the shelters, all service providers are supposed to follow D.C.’s language access laws, including training their staff on language access. The spokesperson did not respond to an extensive set of questions about language accessibility and Language Line use in shelters, but wrote, “DHS will continue to monitor providers’ Language Access compliance and work to support providers in serving our customers.”
The results of Street Sense’s audit are consistent with Thorpe’s experience helping her clients navigate city-funded low-barrier shelters and housing case management services. Out of Thorpe’s caseload of 40 clients, only three have a Spanish-speaking case manager, she said.
“I always have to translate for them with DHS. Even though they have a language line, oftentimes the language line isn’t even effective,” Thorpe said. “The case managers that I’m working with, oftentimes they cannot speak Spanish, so it really puts the onus on me — without my facilitation, a lot of these folks would have fallen through the cracks.”
Language barriers not only mean non-English speakers reach housing or shelter more slowly but they can also make navigating shelter and emergency housing unsafe.
Between January and April, Davyd Abreu was living at SHINE, a transitional housing program funded by DHS and run by Covenant House that offers case management and trauma-informed services for LGBTQ+ youth. Abreu, who is from Venezuela, is learning English, but his proficiency is still quite limited.
Abreu used a different name while at the SHINE program, but did not want to share that name publicly due to privacy concerns. Street Sense has verified his identity with extensive documentation, including text messages, police and incident reports, and photos.
At SHINE, Abreu said staff would treat him differently for being unable to speak English, and he felt as though he couldn’t advocate for himself or lodge any complaints because of the language barrier. Even simple requests like wanting different food options were difficult to communicate because SHINE staff relied on Google Translate, he said. From his perspective, it was “as if they don’t have access” to the Language Line.
“I was never able to make a demand for food because the truth is, I don’t know how to speak English, and it bothered them,” Abreu told Street Sense.
According to Jones Hackley, the Covenant House CEO, staff are trained to support all clients they work with respect, and instructed to use the approved interpretation services, including the Language Line.
“Our intent is to make sure that the youth that are able to access to serve all the services we offer,” she said. “We just retrained the staff, we can overtrain the staff, our stance is that the language access line is the proper use, Google Translate is not the proper use, we don’t use it as a mechanism as communicating with our youth.”
But J, who Street Sense is only identifying by her first initial due to privacy concerns, had similar experiences to Abreu while at SHINE. She said staff relied on Google Translate to communicate with her, which meant it was difficult to explain her unique needs as a trans woman.
Abreu was still at SHINE in February. That month, he was in an accident and broke his leg. The evening he was released from the hospital back to SHINE, another program member attempted to rape him. Abreu said he tried to communicate what was happening to shelter staff, but according to Abreu and Meza, his SMYAL caseworker, staff refused to call MPD and made no attempt to use the Language Line.
Instead, as photos Abreu took of a staff member’s phone and shared with Street Sense show, staff Google translated instructions telling Abreu: “We just moved him from his room, you can go back,” referring to the alleged assailant.
“I called Andrés, he usually never answers me at night because it is not during his work hours,” Abreu said, referring to Meza, who is bilingual. “But by the grace of god, he answered me and I told him to call the police, to call me the ambulance.”
Street Sense obtained a copy of the DHS unusual incident report filed by SHINE, which aligns with Abreu’s account of the attempted rape. It notes, “Due to some language barriers [DA] was on the phone with a case manager from SMYLE and that case manager unbeknown to CHDC called MPD and reported a sexual assault occurred at the Shine facility.”
While Jones Hackley could not speak to the specific incident, she said Covenant House is cooperating with the police. Meza, Abreu’s caseworker, said Covenant House did not offer any “supportive services” including legal help or therapy after the incident.
Moving forward, Jones Hackley said, Covenant House would “make sure we go back and retrain and re-communicate with our staff as well as our values when serving youth.”
“We want all young people to feel welcome when they walk through our doors, and we follow all District laws,” she said.
Following the incident, Abreu began to take steps to exit the SHINE program. He now lives in SMYAL provided housing, which has its own challenges — he doesn’t get along with some of the other youth he lives with — but he said, at least he’s able to express himself.
Currently, he is focused on healing from his accident in order to feel more settled and in control of his life. But he underscored his belief the city needs to improve language access in homeless services, so everyone can be understood.
“There are a lot of people who are just trying to live life, and find resources, and oftentimes they can’t find any help because of the language barrier,” he said.
Graham Krewinghaus and Cody Slutzky contributed reporting and translation. Quotes from Kiara Meza, J, and Davyd Abreu were translated from Spanish.
