In just seven days, District authorities closed three encampments, displacing over 40 people, many without a plan of where to go next.
At the end of July, the Office of the Deputy Mayor for Health and Human Services (DMHHS) closed three encampments: one outside Community for Creative NonViolence (CCNV) the city’s largest homeless shelter, on July 23, one in Eastern Market on July 25, and one in Foggy Bottom on July 30.
The encampment at Eastern Market had only one resident, but no tents or other structures. The resident declined to comment on the closure. According to a DMHHS spokesperson, neighbors forwarded concerns about the resident to DMHHS, but the decision to close the encampment was “due to the numerous health and safety concerns that were observed during months of outreach engagements,” including “human waste and bulk trash.”
The biggest closure, a joint operation between DMHHS and the Department of General Services, was outside the CCNV in the Judiciary Square neighborhood. The encampment consisted of blankets and sheets of tarp tacked to scaffolding along the front of CCNV. Encampment residents arranged furniture, bedding, and their other belongings behind the sheets.
A DMHHS spokesperson told Street Sense the city identified the encampment for closure due to the health and safety hazards posed by the structure, and that the blankets covering the wiring and vents on the side of the building created a fire hazard.
A resident of the encampment, Alejandro, told Street Sense there were more than 30 people living underneath the scaffolding before the city closed the encampment — mostly migrants from Venezuela and other countries in Latin America. Alejandro has a cousin in D.C. and before coming here had been in New York.
Sitting in a camping chair in front of the scaffolding, another resident of the encampment, who declined to give her name, told Street Sense most people knew about the closure beforehand, and a few had left ahead of it.
“There are families that have gone, but there are a lot of families here who do not know where they’re going,” she said. She said in the previous month, the city knocked down a portion of the encampment and erected a fence.
Andrés, a young man wearing a domino around his neck, told Street Sense he wasn’t sure where he was going to go after the closure. He said there had been some outreach ahead of the closure from Pathways to Housing and Catholic Charities, but much of it had been limited to offers to get him a bus ticket to another city.
The forced busing of migrants to sanctuary cities is a controversial program instituted by Republican governors in places like Texas and Arizona. In 2022, Mayor Muriel Bowser declared a public health emergency in response to the influx of people. But it’s not only red state governors who engage in busing — D.C. also offers to bus people elsewhere, although completely voluntarily.
Andrés has tried shelters but found them restrictive — not being able to leave after 7 p.m. or before 7 a.m. disagreed with him. Another resident, Franklin, told Street Sense he thought the Office of Migrant Service (OMS) shelters set up for newly arrived migrants on New York Avenue in Northeast were unsafe.
Other encampment residents told Street Sense they hadn’t been able to access OMS shelters because they are only open to families, not single individuals. Residents emphasized they wished the city offered them more resources. Alejandro noted that unlike in New York, in D.C., he hadn’t even received help with obtaining an I.D.
Four residents of the encampment accepted shelter services, according to a DMHHS spokesperson.
D.C. has been rolling back its migrant services in recent months, and although OMS is supposed to help migrants with case management services, some migrants said they have not received assistance from the District with getting an I.D. or work permits — documents needed to rent apartments.
Across the city, at an encampment closure at 21st and E Street in Foggy Bottom on July 30, residents were viscerally angry the city was forcing them to move — for many, for the second time this summer.
“Fuck Muriel Bowser, Fuck the government, Who’s going to watch the destruction of our home?” one resident yelled at DMHHS staff, outreach workers, and other onlookers as residents packed up their belongings.
Fifteen residents lived at the encampment in half a dozen tents. At least 10 of the residents were displaced in a series of joint National Park Service and DMHHS closures in May, after which they moved to 21st and E, according to Abigail McNaughton, an encampment case manager at Miriam’s Kitchen.
Street Sense talked to David Beatty and Kirk Johnsen, ahead of the closure. Both men are residents of the encampment and had been displaced in May.
Beatty expressed his frustration at being forced to move from 21st and E in the first place — in part because he can see his old camp site from where he is now, and he’s noticed none of the rehabilitation that was cited as the reason for the closure has taken place yet. Beatty’s old encampment was closed in preparation for the 250th anniversary of U.S. independence in 2026.
“It’s like a slap in the face, like we got harassed,” he said. “They closed it over two months ago, if they’re going to kick us out, they’ve got to start the work right away.”
Johnsen questioned the need for the closure of 21st and E and told Street Sense he felt as though the city was just pushing him around because they could.
“It’s cause we’re an eyesore, they’re grasping at straws,” he said.
According to a DMHHS spokesperson, the D.C.’s Department of Transportation, which governs the space, told DMHHS the space needed to be cleared due to “future scheduled maintenance, and to ensure that the dumping of various items inclusive of human waste does not have a critical impact on the primary function of the ventilation mechanisms beneath the triangle park space.”
Johnsen and Beatty told Street Sense no one informed them the vents were an issue before the city announced the closure — and they would happily move the small wicker table which partially stood on top of one if it meant preventing a move.
Johnsen also argued there are ways to mitigate some of the issues the encampment’s neighbors could raise, though a local advisory neighborhood commissioner said he hadn’t heard any concerns. The city could have, for example, provided portable restrooms, a water spigot, access to showers, and an increased police presence at night to prevent altercations between residents.
“They could have given us an opportunity for community outreach,” Johnsen said.
Beatty agreed and told Street Sense at the previous encampment across the street he had — with the help of a housed neighbor — planted and tried to grow over 100 lbs of grass seed. At 21st and E, he cleans up both his trash and some of his neighbors’ sorting out the recycling as part of his commitment to sustainability.
Not knowing where to go next was a stressor for both Beatty and Johnsen. Beatty has thought about returning to his brother in Kansas City, but has an ongoing court case in D.C., making leaving tricky.
Johnsen has toyed with the idea of trying to get a bus ticket to California, hoping for a view of the ocean and warmer weather, but is wary of what the Grants Pass decision could mean for his rights to sleep outside there. Recently, the governor of California ordered state officials to begin removing all encampments. Johnsen is adamant, however, he won’t go into a shelter — he has tried them before and said he found bed bugs the size of his pinky finger, a lack of running water, and an environment which triggered his PTSD.
Both, however, told Street Sense if given the opportunity to access a non-congregate shelter, like the Aston, which is scheduled to open in late August and is just blocks from the encampment, they would take it.
On the day of the closure, both men chose to move to other encampments nearby, hoping that they wouldn’t be cleared or closed any time soon.
“Every single person is moving to other encampments, and they will continue to do so until a dignified option is available,” McNaughton said, explaining shelters are often full and even when beds are available, residents may not feel comfortable going inside.
In addition to Miriam’s Kitchen, community members, including those with the mutual aid group Food Not Bombs, helped residents move their stuff on the day of the clearing. McNaughton said she was deeply grateful they were willing to come and help as early as 7:30 am.
“Tell your elected officials this isn’t an effective way to end homelessness, and come help people pack, we couldn’t have done this without community volunteers,” she said, referencing the feat of packing up over half a dozen tents in a couple of hours.
When asked what else readers should know, “all we’re asking for is a little empathy,” Johnsen said.
Samantha Monteiro contributed reporting
Editor’s Note: Some of the interviews in this article have been translated from Spanish.
