Reclaiming “good motherhood”: US mothers’ critical resistance in family homeless shelters

Abstract

Unhoused mothers not only contend with housing precarity and economic hardship but also intersecting classist, racist, and sexist stereotypes that position them as unfit mothers. Classed, raced, and gendered conceptualizations of “good” and “bad” motherhood are reified in US shelter regulations (e.g. strict rules governing parent and child behavior, curfews, mandatory participation in parenting classes) that seek to “reform” homeless mothers. To gain a better understanding of perceptions of and responses to shelter regulations, we interviewed 28 formerly unhoused US mothers about their experiences in family shelters. Participants overwhelmingly rejected “bad mother” stereotypes that equated lack of material resources with inadequate parenting and engaged in a range of overt (e.g. strategic recounting of life histories) and covert (e.g. subverting paternalistic rules) strategies to reclaim “good motherhood” and negotiate daily shelter life. Instrumental, discursive, covert, and overt critical resistance strategies were used to maintain parental authority, preserve one’s self-image as a “good” mother and obtain needed resources from shelter staff. Our findings highlight the complexity of critical resistance to class, race, and gender oppression and call for greater interrogation of how seemingly well-intentioned shelter rules and policies reinforce status hierarchies.

Keywords

homeless mothers family shelters critical resistance classism stereotyping discrimination against low-income women USA

Female-headed households comprise one of the fastest growing segments of the homeless population in industrialized nations around the world, with the US holding the unfortunate distinction of having one of the largest number of homeless women and children (Toro, 2007). Although homelessness is highly stigmatized and subject to social control in both the US and Europe (Johnsen, Fitzpatrick, & Watts, 2018), the US places less relative emphasis on preventing family homelessness and rapid rehousing (Baptista, Benjaminsen, Busch-Geertsema, & Pleace, 2017; Benjaminsen & Andrade, 2015). Consequently, homeless shelters stand out as one of the few options for unhoused US families in crisis, but these environments also challenge mothers and families (Averitt, 2003; Cosgrove & Flynn, 2005; DeWard & Moe, 2010). Although well-intentioned, common shelter regulations (e.g. rules governing parent and child behavior, curfews, mandatory parenting classes) can undermine parental authority and mothers’ self-worth (Mayberry, Shinn, Benton, & Wise, 2014).

In addition to structural barriers to housing (e.g. shortage of affordable housing), low-income mothers routinely confront classist, racist, and sexist stereotypes that inform both policy design and recipients’ treatment within these systems (Bullock, 2013). Welfare programs in the US, UK, and Israel, among others, have long histories of stigmatizing female recipients as “bad mothers” and seeking to control their parental and sexual behavior (Herbst-Debby, 2018; Limbert & Bullock, 2005). The neoliberal ideology of “reform” and personal responsibility extends from cash aid to housing and other safety net programs (Reppond & Bullock, 2018). Unhoused mothers report being stigmatized in subtle yet powerful ways and being the targets of stereotyping and discriminatory treatment when seeking assistance (Connolly, 2000b; Cosgrove & Flynn, 2005; DeWard & Moe, 2010).

Feminist scholarship has played a pivotal role in illuminating systemic biases, challenging the equation of marginalization with passivity and deepening our understanding of how women resist oppression (Dodson & Schmalzbauer, 2005; McCormack, 2004, 2005; Williams, 1996). Much of what we know about critical resistance among low-income mothers is based on US welfare recipients’ experiences with and responses to Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF) and its predecessor, Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC), cash aid programs for low-income families with children. Less is known about homeless mothers’ experiences of stereotyping and discrimination and their use of critical resistance strategies, particularly in the context of family shelters. This study addresses these gaps by examining the perceptions, experiences, and resistance strategies used by sheltered mothers.

Mothering while homeless as a violation of the “good mother” archetype

Stereotypes of unhoused people as lazy, mentally ill, substance-abusing criminals are grounded in attributions for poverty and homelessness that emphasize personal responsibility and minimize structural sources of hardship (Bullock, Truong, & Chhun, 2017; Phelan, Link, Moore, & Stueve, 1997; Phillips, 2015). Unhoused women also contend with being stereotyped as “bad” mothers who are unable to materially provide for their children (Connolly, 2000a). Indeed, unhoused mothers may violate “good motherhood” on multiple grounds including being a single parent, having a child at an “early” age, or by not identifying as heterosexual (Riggs & Bartholomaeus, 2018; Sevon, 2005; Smith 1997). Collectively, these stereotypes can undermine how unhoused mothers think about themselves and contribute to distancing from similarly situated women. Among housed groups, stereotypes about homelessness legitimize exclusion and restrictive policies. Clifford and Piston (2017) found that stereotypes associating homelessness with disease fueled disgust and enhanced support for anti-homeless ordinances.

Classist, racist, and sexist stereotypes inform common shelter regulations. Most family shelters in the US include rules governing supervision of children, household chores, curfews, visitors, child discipline, overnight passes, child and adult bedtimes, phone use, budgeting and saving requirements, and class attendance (Connolly, 2000a; Friedman, 2000; Williams, 2016). Although some regulations may be well-intentioned, they also require that mothers relinquish autonomy and control over parental practices (Connolly, 2000a; Friedman, 2000). As Hartnett and Harding (2005, p. 42) explain, US shelter rules that “regulate the behavior and movement of people may be intended to teach people the proper way to behave in a ‘home.’ The underlying message is that people need to be taught and, therefore, these rules are necessary.” Few mothers describe shelter rules as helpful or family oriented (Connolly, 2000a; Hoffman & Coffey, 2008).

Unhoused mothers report being the targets of stereotyping, social distancing, surveillance, and discrimination in family shelters. In Cosgrove and Flynn’s (2005) study of 17 homeless US mothers, all interviewees identified at least one incident of being devalued and/or discriminated against by service providers. As one informant explained, “When you don’t have a place to live … you have no value … you’re nothing” (Cosgrove & Flynn, 2005, p. 133). Power inequities in the status of shelter staff and residents lay the foundation for discrimination (Hartnett & Postmus, 2010; Hoffman & Coffey, 2008). In DeWard and Moe’s (2010) study of US shelter dynamics, mothers reported differential treatment by shelter staff, which in turn affected access to food, clothing, and personal items. Beyond these material losses, mothers described losing their children’s respect as a consequence of this treatment.

Walking a “tightrope”: Critical resistance and shelter rules

Sheltered mothers walk a figurative “tightrope” – challenging shelter rules can jeopardize access to resources or result in expulsion while adherence can reduce autonomy or undermine parental authority. A growing body of research focuses on critical resistance, a term that broadly refers to behavioral and symbolic acts of opposition by individuals with limited power to navigate and resist oppression (Leach & Livingstone, 2015). Although there is no uniformly accepted definition, most conceptualizations emphasize skewed power relations and the interactional dynamics of resistance, with a range of thoughts and behaviors recognized as oppositional (see Hollander & Einwohner, 2004). In addition to these shared understandings, our analysis draws on McCormack’s conceptualization of “everyday forms” of resistance as “those mundane practices that occur as [welfare] recipients participate in their daily lives, challenging in an unorganized and often invisible way the meanings that render them powerless” (2004, p. 374). Resistance by homeless mothers is similarly complex due to their lack of power and reliance on authorities to distribute resources, but can open avenues for sheltered women to challenge and even shift asymmetrical power relations (Hollander & Einwohner, 2004). We use the term “critical resistance” to describe these strategies.

More research on critical resistance focuses on cash-aid recipients rather than unhoused or sheltered mothers; however, these groups share commonalities. Collectively, US-based scholarship in this area identifies four primary forms of resistance (Hollander & Einwohner, 2004; Luna, 2009; McCormack, 2004, 2005). Instrumental resistance, which involves portraying oneself favorably to secure positive outcomes, is particularly likely to be used when access to resources is limited or competition is high (McCormack, 2004). For unhoused mothers, this strategy may be pivotal to gaining shelter entry. Discursive resistance challenges the messages and values communicated by dominant stereotypes, and in doing so can counteract the negative psychological effects of classist, racist, and sexist stigma (McCormack, 2004, 2005). Examples of discursive resistance include reframing low-income status as a form of thriftiness, or reconceptualizing underemployment as increased time to spend with child/ren.

The in/visibility of behavior is central to overt and covert resistance. Overt resistance involves direct confrontation and is recognized as such by targets and observers. Conversely, covert resistance involves subtle subversion that goes unrecognized by targets as resistance but may be “visible” to similarly positioned people (Hollander & Einwohner, 2004). As a “safer” strategy, covert resistance may be used more frequently than higher risk overt resistance (Hollander & Einwohner, 2004; Luna, 2009). Much remains to be known about the types of critical resistance strategies among homeless women living in family shelters with their children.

Purpose of the current study

Family shelters are a microcosm of the stereotyping, paternalism, and power disparities that low-income mothers navigate in broader society as well as their own unique context. The overarching goals of this study were twofold: (1) to gain a better understanding of how homeless mothers in the US perceive family shelter regulations – and (2) to identify critical resistance strategies used by unhoused mothers to disrupt stereotyping and bias in the context of US family shelters.

Method

Participants

Semi-structured interviews were conducted with 28 formerly homeless mothers living in central California, USA. To avoid potentially straining shelter relationships and jeopardizing participants’ housing security, current shelter residents were not interviewed. Only mothers who had lived with their children in a residential shelter for homeless families for 30 or more days within the past two years and were currently housed were eligible to participate. Participants were recruited through flyers and contacts at nonprofit organizations serving low-income families.

Participants ranged in age from 22 to 48 years old (M = 33 years) and had between one and five children (M = 1.89). Most respondents reported that one or two children lived with them in the shelter. Respondents were racially diverse: 43% self-identified as Latina, Chicana, or Hispanic; 32% as White or European American; 11% as Native American; 7% as multiracial; 3.5% as African American; and 3.5% as Southeast Asian. Seventy-five percent of respondents characterized their social class as “working poor” prior to losing their housing and 21% as middle class. Ninety-six percent of the sample identified as heterosexual and 29% reported currently being in a relationship. None were married. Sixty-one percent of informants spontaneously shared that they were survivors of a physically and/or sexually violent relationship with a male partner. Demographic information and pseudonyms are summarized in Table 1.

Table 1.

Participant demographics.

Participant Pseudonym	Age	Race	Number of Children in Shelter
Sofia	33	Latina	5
Terry	46	Native American, Navajo	1
Andromeda	28	White	1
Marcie	32	White	1
Chenoa	48	Native American	2
Brisa	43	Latina	2
Betty	26	White	1
Belle	30	Latina	1
Maria	22	Mexican (undocumented)	1
Vanessa	36	Chicana	3
Sally	27	White	1
Sarah	35	Southeast Asian (undocumented)	1
Grace	27	African American & White	1
Chelsea	34	White	1
June	22	African American, Filipino & White	1
Veronica	33	African American	1
Taylor	28	White	1
Nicole	20	Latina	1
Demi	35	Native American	2
Mary	29	Latina	4
Samantha	36	Latina	1
Victoria	33	Latina	3
Susan	42	White	2
Peggy	34	Latina	2
Maree	22	Latina	2
Jill	34	White	1
Toni	36	Latina	1

Materials and procedure

An open-ended, semi-structured interview protocol was designed to assess mothers’ demographics, experiences of living in a family shelter, their perceptions of shelter rules, their interactions with other shelter residents and staff, and their relationship with their child/children during their shelter stay. Participants were asked to focus on their most recent shelter stay. All materials and procedures were reviewed and approved by the Institutional Review Board at University of California, Santa Cruz.

Interviews were conducted in participants’ homes, parks and coffee shops, and ranged from 100 minutes to 195 minutes (M = 105 minutes). All interviews were conducted in English by the first author, a European American woman in her 30s with a family history of economic hardship. We were mindful of our positionality as researchers as well as potential socioeconomic and racial differences between ourselves and the interviewees (Hesse-Biber & Yaiser, 2004). To build rapport and mitigate interviewer-interviewee status differences, meetings began with a discussion of non-research related topics. Before starting the interviews, the purpose of the study and handling of data was explained. Interviewees were assured that their participation was voluntary and comments would not be shared with caseworkers or shelter staff, and that pseudonyms would be used when sharing the findings. All participants provided their consent to be interviewed and audio-recorded. We also sought to increase familiarity and comfort with the interview questions by providing participants with a copy of the protocol and by describing each section in advance. Informants received $50 for their participation, an amount deemed sufficient to recognize their time and potential associated expenses (e.g. transportation, child care) but not be coercive. Participants were told that the payment was theirs to keep regardless of whether they completed the full interview.

Data management and analysis

Each audio recorded interview was transcribed verbatim by trained research assistants. Transcription instructions were adapted from Braun and Clarke (2013) and DuBois (2005). To reduce errors and maximize the accuracy of both verbal and nonverbal expressions (e.g. laughter, crying, inhaling, exhaling, pauses, emphasized words and phrases), each transcript was checked against the audio recording.

Our analysis was guided by both constructionist (Charmaz & Belgrave, 2012) and realist (Strauss & Corbin, 1998) approaches to grounded theory. Consistent with constructivist grounded theory, we sought to amplify participants’ lived experiences, recognizing multiple social realities and “knowledge” as co-created by interviewees and researchers. This was incorporated in the design of the interview protocol and subsequent revisions via memoing procedures, which captured the researchers’ evolving understanding of participants’ realities of shelter environments (Charmaz & Belgrave, 2012). Our coding framework was shaped by realist grounded theory’s emphasis on understanding “behavior, perceptions, perspectives, and cultural beliefs and values reflective of social mechanisms” (Lo, 2014, pp. 62–3). A realist approach to grounded theory offered a validation model to analyze the consensus of perceived reality shared by participants (Lo, 2014). First, line-by-line open coding was conducted to identify lower-level concepts (e.g. verbal confrontation) and higher-level categories (e.g. overt resistance). Next, we utilized axial coding to map interconnections among concepts, categories, and themes. For example, lower-level concepts such as “withholding information” led to axial coding and the grouping of these and other similar concepts into corresponding higher-level categories. After establishing higher-level categories, comparative analysis was conducted to identify similarities and differences in participants’ narratives (Strauss & Corbin, 1998). The final analytic stage involved codebook development. The codebook included concepts, categories, and themes from the first two stages of the analysis: (1) perceptions and experiences of stereotyping; (2) critical resistance; (3) interactions with shelter staff; and (4) interactions with other residents. Each theme contained higher-level categories and lower-level concepts.

Two research assistants independently coded each interview transcript. Agreement for each coded category was used to calculate interrater reliability. Agreement was satisfied when each coder assigned a particular code within a range of 10 transcript lines – 5 above and 5 below the coded segment. There was 91% agreement between coders.

Findings

All interviewees reported being stereotyped based on their housing status and engaging in at least one form of critical resistance. Consistent with Savage’s (2016) analysis of the experiences of unhoused Irish mothers, being stereotyped as a “bad mother” was central to women’s shelter experiences, shaping their daily experiences and undergirding their critical resistance. For this reason, we lead with this facet of our findings.

Intersecting bias and the omnipresence of the “bad mother” stereotype in family shelters

Our respondents were well-versed in intersecting class, race, and gender stereotypes about unhoused women (Connolly, 2000a; Croghan & Miell, 1998; Friedman, 2000), and provided detailed descriptions of being stereotyped as “bad mothers” by shelter staff. Emphasizing classed dimensions of these judgments, Grace explained, “The stereotype [is] that people without money are more trashy and they let their kids run wild … people think that homeless mothers are probably just lazy and negligent … ‘Woman can’t take care of herself, why is she having a kid?’” These stereotypes, which position homeless mothers as responsible for their families’ homelessness and as a danger to themselves and their children, directly conflict with idealized images of mothers as self-sacrificing, nurturing, in control, and happy in their role. The “good mother” archetype was the implicit and at times explicit standard against which interviewees felt judged (Connolly, 2000a, 2000b; Croghan & Miell, 1998; Friedman, 2000). As Taylor shared, “I always feel like I’m being judged for my parenting. Always. No matter where I am, if I’m in public or by other women in the house [family shelter].” Sophia expanded on how this stereotype influenced her family’s shelter experience:

I’m being a good mom. I’m doing everything I can to be able to take care of my kids. That was the hardest part … I felt like she [staff member] was real judgmental towards us that lived in the shelter … It’s like they look down on you … like as if you deserve to be in the situation … there are some women that worked in the shelter that use that title as like, “I’m better than you.” And [they] look down on you.

Homeless mothers’ perceived lack of discipline extended from childrearing to sexuality to substance use, revealing how intersecting biases surrounding class, race, and gender not only shaped assessments of women’s parenting skills but also their viability as potential shelter residents. As Betty explained, “A stereotype for homeless mothers is … ‘Oh, they’re on drugs, and that’s the path that they chose, so this is what they get, and this is what they deserve.’” Being labeled as a “substance abuser” carries significant consequences for homeless women, notably being refused entry or expelled from a shelter. Grace, who identified as African American and White, attributed her shelter rejection to intersecting racist and classist stereotypes about drug users:

She [shelter director] wouldn’t even pee test me like she was supposed to. I told my caseworker and she called the lady and [the family shelter director told her] she had no intention of taking me and that I was probably on drugs, which was so insulting because I’d been sober for so long at that point, and she wouldn’t even pee test me … I think she was stereotyping me.

Grace’s experience is supported by research documenting that Black women are more likely than White women to be stereotyped as “drug addicts” despite no significant interracial differences in substance use (Ritchie, 2017). In the US, racist stereotyping is also documented in disproportionate targeting of people of color in the “war on drugs” (i.e. heavy criminal penalties imposed for selling and using drugs) and broken windows policing (i.e. the sanctioning of aggressive surveillance and arrest for minor infractions).

Judgments of “deservingness,” including sexist and racist stereotypes about the morality of female-headed households and the work ethic and promiscuity of poor mothers of color, influence which groups are deemed worthy of assistance in the US (Watkins-Hayes & Kovalsky, 2016), and Grace’s experience underscores the discretionary power held by caseworkers and shelter staff to accept or reject applicants. Racist bias has been documented in US caseworkers’ diversion of potential recipients from applying for aid and sanctioning of current clients for minor infractions (Gooden, 2010). Similar dynamics may be present in homeless shelters. In addition to Grace, two darker-skinned women of color, one of whom identified as gay, described being told that they weren’t a “good fit” by the same White staff member at the same shelter. Veronica was told that she was not a “good fit” due to her “bad attitude” but regarded this explanation as a “cover story”:

First, because it’s a Christian based [shelter] and I’m gay … That’s all that I can think of … I don’t think I was aggressive … I had this baby. I had nowhere to go. I had an open CPS [Child Protective Services] case. If I didn’t find anywhere to go I would lose that child too, so I didn’t go in with a bad attitude.

Collectively, we view these experiences of stereotyping and exclusion as indicative of how intersecting race, class, and gender stereotypes, as well as presumed heterosexuality, inform judgements of “good” versus “bad” motherhood. They also potentially shape shelter decisions, compounding disadvantage and shaping women’s life chances.

Critical resistance strategies

Given their limited power, our informants had few options for responding to stereotyping and perceived discrimination in family shelters and responded strategically, taking into account complex interpersonal and institutional dynamics. Although sheltered mothers’ resistance strategies “may not be recognizable as traditional political action,” they “offer significant symbolic and material opposition” to paternalistic rules and program mandates (Gilliom, 2001, p. 100). Consistent with previous research, we found evidence of instrumental, discursive, covert, and overt critical resistance. Although overt or direct action is sometimes assumed to be preferable to covert resistance, we assign no hierarchical or differential worth to them. For clarity, we discuss each form of resistance independently, but they often co-occurred and were interconnected.

Using strategic storytelling to combat negative stereotypes and reclaim “good motherhood”

Mothers deliberately sought to present themselves and their families favorably, with strategic recounting of one’s personal history emerging as the most common form of instrumental critical resistance. By cultivating a redemptive public image that defied common stereotypes of homeless mothers, our informants hoped to develop positive relationships, secure resources, and improve the likelihood of shelter admittance. Mary’s repeated calls to the shelter and sharing of personal information paid off: “She [shelter staff] ended up calling me back ‘cause she said that she heard my story and she knows how it is when you’re pregnant and you have kids and she want[ed] to help me.” Presenting oneself as open, communicative, and humble was consistently described as one of the most effective ways to move up the shelter waitlist.

Redemptive “stories” revolved around portraying oneself as a “good mother,” creating distance from dominant associations of homelessness with individual shortcomings, criminality, and substance abuse (Phelan et al., 1997; Bullock et al., 2017). To be viewed as a “good fit” by intake staff, Jill shared her past difficulties with drugs and her commitment to sobriety: “I just remember telling her my situation – I just got out of a rehab, coming from a S.L.U. [Sober Living Unit], I’m clean and sober, I have all these certificates … I really needed to be in that [shelter] program.” Emphasizing positive personal characteristics was done to elicit empathy and neutralize stereotypes. This complex emotional work required anticipating staff expectations and trying to match desired resident characteristics, a level of self and other monitoring that would be taxing under any circumstances but particularly so when experiencing the stress of housing precarity.

After being admitted to a shelter, strategic storytelling was used to curry favor with staff, secure resources, and minimize staff surveillance. Respondents described choosing which aspects of their story to share based on the situation and the people with whom they were speaking. As Andromeda explained, “I’ve been nice to people to get what I want.” Strategic storytelling also helped mothers forge common ground with shelter staff with successful “stories” communicating, “We’re alike, you and me.” This common ground helped residents build relationships that transcended their status as “homeless mothers.” Sophia highlighted her former middle-class status to distance herself from classist and racist stereotypes (Clawson & Trice, 2000; Kelly, 2010) and illuminate commonalities with shelter staff:

At least they have more of an understanding of who you are. And not everybody’s a druggie and off the streets, you know? Like, when I tell my story I’m like, “I had a house. I had a four bedroom, more than a half-acre piece of land …” I never had to depend on anybody to watch my kids. We were doing a great job. It’s just he lost his job and got into pills … People, they’re so judgmental. They see me running around with five kids and I can imagine the stuff that they think, like, “Oh my God lady!” I’m like, “No … I was married for 16 years. All five are his. I was with him two and a half years before I got pregnant.” (Sophia)

Later in the interview, she identified her strategic class presentation as the reason she secured transitional housing following her shelter stay. While the tactical sharing of information is not unique to homeless women (Goffman, 1959), our findings underscore just how crucial strategic self-presentation can be to securing resources as well as affirming their fitness as mothers.

Reframing racist, classist, and sexist stereotypes to reject stigma and assert self-worth

Consistent with McCormack’s (2004) conceptualization of discursive resistance, our participants reframed stereotypical racist and classist assumptions held by shelter staff as well as other residents. For example, Latina interviewees described being the targets of xenophobia from other shelter residents. As Vanessa recounted:

They do stereotype us a lot … When I was living at the shelter there was different type of race [dynamics] there … an African American lady … would say that because we’re Mexican, the kids stank … a Caucasian lady would … do bad faces to them [my children] … We were [called] “wet backs” … I’m all, “I’m not a wet back. I was born here with Mexican parents that did cross the river. They crossed the river to bring us, to make the best that they could for us” … I’m not a wet back, I’m Mexican … No, I’m a Chicana! ‘Cause I was born here and I’m proud of it. I would never, never [let you] discriminate [against] my parents … I’m thankful what they did … to give us a better life.

Vanessa reframed dominant stereotypes by transforming the slur “wetback” from disparaging to empowering and focusing on her father’s quest to provide a better life for his family. Mirroring societal intergroup relations, her experiences illuminate how race and perceived nationality establish ingroups and outgroups in shelters. These findings are buttressed by experimental research documenting US whites’ tendency to associate US Latinas with undocumented citizenship and that these associations fuel bias (Dovidio, Gluszek, John, Ditlmann, & Lagunes, 2010).

European American mothers reported their own struggles around racial stereotypes. Several interviewees complained that their whiteness led them to be viewed as privileged and made it difficult to get into shelters in predominantly Latinx communities. As Sally explained, “I felt they stereotyped me … A couple of the afternoon [staffers] were like, ‘Psh. What are you doing [here]?’” When asked about being stereotyped more specifically, Sally replied, “I’m in my 20s, I’m attractive, I don’t dress all ghetto … I try to present myself well. [I look] like I didn’t deserve it.” Sally further discussed race coding when describing her treatment in social welfare offices, “It’s kinda the same thing like if I go to the welfare office in sweats … they’re a lot more willing, it seems, to help me … than if I go there with my hair done, my make-up done, looking nice.” To increase the likelihood of being perceived as “needy,” Sally intentionally dressed “ghetto.” Several other White interviewees similarly charged shelter staff and social service programs of “reverse racism,” conflating personal experiences of prejudice with systemic discrimination (Gonyea, 2017). These concerns led some White respondents to proactively emphasize their lack of options when meeting with shelter staff:

Because I’m White I feel like people feel like I should have family or resources … I feel like I have to kind of amp it up a little bit … to try to lay it on thick when you’re trying to explain to them why you need a place to live or how hard it really is. Just so that they’ll think that it actually is as hard as it is! (Taylor)

In sum, discursive resistance was used by Women of Color and White mothers, albeit from different social locations, to reframe racial stereotypes and communicate their inaccuracy. While homeless mothers of color contended with stereotypes about drug use, chronic poverty, and US citizenship, some White respondents sought to distance themselves from the assumption that they did not need assistance.

Discursive resistance strategies were also used to reframe classist stereotypes and to “normalize” experiences of poverty and homelessness. For instance, Sarah drew similarities between shelters and college dorms, emphasizing the communality of both residences:

I didn’t call my place [a] shelter because it’s not; it’s like [a] home. It’s just a regular home. [Name of the town] is an expensive place to live, so people they live like that: in one house [a] bunch of women or men, you know? Like students from [university] all live in a huge house. Even in front of [the] shelter there’s a huge house and a bunch of students live in there and each one has their own room. So it’s kind of a similar thing. They share the house … We all share the kitchen … That’s why it’s not different.

By noting similarities and juxtaposing the “lifestyles” of homeless mothers and college students, Sarah drew attention to the classism inherent in the belief that families should live independently but more privileged college students should live together. In many respects, this counter-meaning making is emancipatory.

Similarly, Toni countered feeling infantilized by shelter staff by drawing attention to her survival skills:

Sometimes I kinda felt like she talks to me like I’m a little kid (laughter) … I know how to survive on the streets but then yet I also know how to run a household and everything cause I’ve had that and … I learned how to survive out on the streets.

By reframing street homelessness as imparting survival knowledge, Toni challenged the stereotype that homeless mothers are uneducated and lack life skills. This reframing allowed mothers to discursively reject stigma and negative characterizations and affirm their self-worth and dignity (Croghan & Miell, 1998).

Subverting “the rules” to maintain parental authority and autonomy

Mothers described experiencing a loss of power, autonomy, and control over their own and their children’s daily routine. Covert resistance – superficially appearing to comply with shelter rules while “subtly” subverting them (Hollander & Einwohner, 2004; Luna, 2009) – was used to oppose regulations that women deemed irrelevant or that interfered with their family responsibilities and to regain a sense of control. Because of their covert nature, these strategies often go unnoticed and unpunished, making them safer and more commonly used than other forms of resistance. At one shelter residents were required to write a letter to God each evening. Veronica, who was not religious, used this time to write to several of her children who were living in foster care, “I never wrote them. I just wrote to my kids. It was kinda therapeutic for me. I used my journal to write down all of my regrets and sorrows … to my kids … She [the shelter director] didn’t read them.” This covert resistance was comforting and autonomy preserving in the face of a perceived oppressive daily practice.

Covert resistance was also used to maintain economic independence. Family shelters often require residents to put their limited funds in mandatory savings programs and share their bank account information with staff so that spending habits and financial progress can be monitored. Mary described how sheltered mothers control their finances:

They’d withdraw … and they would keep it and then … be like, “Well, this is all the money I have. I’m sorry … ” They lied about how much money they actually received, so … then [the] director thought, “Oh, she doesn’t have that much money to save.”

Concealing funds was not done to defraud the system but rather to ensure that mothers could cover routine expenses, meet children’s needs, and be in charge of their own finances. Similar strategies have been documented among welfare recipients (Dodson & Schmalzbauer, 2005; Gilliom, 2001). Abusive relationships further heighten women’s desire to control their own finances. Research documents pervasive economic abuse by male partners (e.g. withholding information about finances, running up credit card debt; DuMonthier & Dusenbery, 2016). Given the high rate of abuse reported by our respondents, it is not surprising that financial oversight by shelters was viewed suspiciously and regarded as a step backward in establishing themselves as the head of their households.

Shelter rules requiring that residents relinquish their cell phones also spurred covert resistance. In the communal shelters, families shared rooms and mothers were required to turnover their cell phones to shelter staff at 9:30 pm. Phones were locked in a safe overnight and returned to women between 5:30 am and 6:00 am. This nightly confiscation was described as threatening because it limited contact with unsheltered family members. Vanessa discussed her decision to keep her cell phone and turn in a fake one instead:

I couldn’t get calls … It was hard for me to deal with … [because] my sister has multiple sclerosis. So sometimes in the middle of night she would … [call and need me to take her to the hospital] … That part was really hard. The next day, really early at six in the morning, she would cry and tell me, “I needed to go to the hospital, I called you at one in the morning and you weren’t answering.” And I’m all, “Well I’m sorry I can’t, I don’t have my phone here.”

Grace had similar concerns and also gave a nonfunctioning phone to shelter staff, “I was actually really unnerved by it because one girl, her baby had a seizure in the middle of the night and it was like panic and pandemonium.” Like the woman Grace described, Andromeda’s son had a seizure when she did not have her phone:

My son has seizures and the last shelter I was in they weren’t gonna let us keep the phones on us at night. I flipped out when [my son] had a seizure over there. I told them, “This is why I need my phone. Because I need to be able to call his Dad, and his pediatrician as soon as it happens, and freakin’ 911.” And, like, I should not have to assert myself if I tell them already it’s for my son’s safety … [so] I gave them a phone that was not working, and I kept the one that was.

In addition to serving as a lifeline to family, for sheltered mothers with few possessions, cell phones accrued special meaning as one of their few remaining possessions:

My cell phone was like the only thing that I had left that was mine … I felt like I had nothing … It … was my only connection to my son for a year and a half … which was driving me absolutely insane … I didn’t like the environment he was in, and what if he needs to talk to me and let me know what’s going on? (Chenoa)

Collectively, these experiences provide a counter-narrative to interpretations of rule subversion as insubordinate or dishonest. Instead, these behaviors made it possible for sheltered mothers to meet the psychological and material needs of their immediate and extended families, reaffirm their worth and autonomy, and challenge the “bad mother” stereotype.

The power and perils of direct confrontation

Overt resistance – directly confronting a perceived wrong-doing or unfair treatment – was most often utilized when discrimination was public or when options were severely restricted (Luna, 2009). To challenge their “place” in the hierarchy, respondents engaged in confrontation, demanded change, and refused to cooperate, defying the expectation that they should be compliant. These challenges to power relations were met with mixed success, with women risking being labeled as “difficult” or “combative” and possible shelter expulsion.

Being stereotyped as irresponsible or incapable of determining a healthy course of action was a common trigger. Chenoa shared her response to a nutrition teacher who stereotyped her as having poor eating habits and attempted to humiliate her in class:

He [the teacher] … says, “You’d probably have diabetes and high blood pressure,” I said, “Actually I don’t. And I don’t have high cholesterol. I don’t have any of those problems.” So that really bothered me … You’re making a judgment about me and you don’t know me … I said, “I’m sure that my cholesterol’s a lot better than yours.” Well, he’s like, “Well what’s your cholesterol?” I said, “It’s 117.” And he’s like, “Oh, alright” … He thought that based on appearance that, “Well since you are overweight so then you must consume all these sugars and things and your health is absolutely horrible.” … Can’t you make it a better judgment on who’s gonna … give a presentation ‘cause it’s not fair? I brought it up [to the shelter staff and director] and they’re like, “Well, we’ll be more careful with who we bring in.”

Chenoa’s experience of body shaming is informative on multiple levels. It draws attention to classist and sexist stereotypes that attribute high body weight to unhealthy choices rather than the structural barriers that bar poor families from accessing nutrient-rich food (Bullock, 2013). Poor women are routinely stereotyped as not feeding themselves or their children healthy food, judged negatively when they do not conform to societal body ideals, and viewed as ignorant of healthy lifestyles. Her experience also draws attention to the paternalism that infuses mandatory “life skills” classes that poor women are required to take to receive welfare benefits or live in shelters.

When sheltered mothers felt their own or their children’s health was compromised, they engaged in direct confrontation. Toni challenged a shelter director who withheld her pain medication and attempted to violate her medical confidentiality:

I had asked for … one of my painkillers because I was having a really bad toothache. She [the director] said, “No, you can’t because it’s a narcotic … We can’t give it to you … blah blah blah. It’s not used for your tooth.” But on the prescription it says: for pain. And it’s my prescription! … How she was talking to me … made me feel like I was a little kid. It … made me really mad. And … she wanted to … do stuff during our case management and I refused to do it … I would just basically [be] like, “Are we done now? I’m over this.” I wasn’t backing down … She was like, “Well we can get a doctor’s note” … [She wanted to call the doctor herself] … and I said, “No. You’re not gonna call my doctor.” I said, “ … They will not talk to you because I didn’t sign a paper.” Literally … they cannot talk to you. And then she goes, “Well then you can call your doctor.” And I said, “No! I’m not calling my doctor. That’s my prescription and I can have my prescription.”

Because Toni was recovering from alcohol addiction but had no history with narcotics, she rejected the director’s conflation of the two. Ultimately, Toni was not permitted to take her pain medication and her well-being was compromised.

Attempts to control residents’ behaviors gave way to monitoring by shelter staff, and the intensity and pervasiveness of this surveillance foreclosed other forms of resistance. When Sophia felt the shelter manager was misusing her power, she reported it to the shelter supervisor:

I said, “I don’t feel comfortable dealing with [the shelter supervisor] anymore.” She goes, “Why?” I said, “Cause I don’t feel like she’s treating me fairly.” I said, “I feel like I’m getting picked on by her. And I’m done dealing with her. Really, I am. So I’m bringing it to your attention.” And she [the shelter director] goes, “Well, like what?” And I told her, when it comes to the chores, I said, “She don’t check on everybody, but she makes sure that I’m number one. [I’m the] first one that she’s on.” And she was like, “Ok, well I’ll have a talk with her.” And so after that she had that talk with her [and the supervisor] started being nicer … It got better with me and [the supervisor].

In this case, overt resistance effectively shifted resident-manager dynamics, resulting in a more supportive living environment for Sophia and her children.

People of color, especially Black women, have a long history of surveillance and differential treatment within the US welfare system and across a range of settings (Browne, 2015; Gooden, 2010; Soss, Fording, & Schram, 2011). Shelters appear to be no exception. Among our small sample, we found a similar pattern with women of color reporting higher rates of surveillance and discrimination than White respondents. Veronica described how racist stereotypes equating blackness with aggression fueled differential treatment:

I let [the shelter director] know that I was the only African American there and that I watch these Caucasian girls disrespect group, each other, the house and you say absolutely nothing about it … and every time that I ask a question you tell me that I’m being aggressive and that my housing is on the line … so I had to email the Board [of Supervisors] and tell them about the treatment I was receiving. I felt like I was under her little microscope. And so my last month there she backed up and left me alone.

Although the outcome was positive, it is important to note that just as racism may fuel differential treatment by shelter staff, it may also influence responses to resistance efforts. For women of color, resistance may be less likely to result in positive outcomes and may put them at greater risk of retribution.

Conclusion

Our findings offer insight into the experiences of US sheltered mothers and their use of critical resistance strategies. Consistent with previous research with low-income women (Hollander & Einwohner, 2004; Luna, 2009; McCormack, 2004, 2005), our respondents leveraged a complex set of resistance strategies to challenge paternalistic shelter practices, maintain dignity, restore autonomy, and discredit the steady drumbeat of the “bad mother” stereotype (Connolly, 2000a, 2000b; Croghan & Miell, 1998; Friedman, 2000). We found distinct strategic patterns of critical resistance use in response to US shelter experiences. Instrumental resistance was used to present a redemptive narrative to secure resources; discursive resistance was employed to psychologically reframe damaging stereotypes; and overt and covert resistance were used to subvert restrictive shelter rules and challenge discriminatory treatment, respectively. The degree to which mothers were strategic in their resistance stands in sharp contrast to classist stereotypes portraying low-income women as lacking discipline and underscores their commitment to caring for their families.

Our findings speak to the importance of broadening how we think about mobilization and strategic self-presentation. Indeed, all of the critical resistance strategies observed, albeit to varying degrees, required strategic self-presentation. While instrumental resistance involved presenting oneself strategically and making favorable interpersonal connections, discursive resistance required psychologically reframing stereotypes to contest marginalization as a “bad mother.” Covert resistance involved presenting oneself as compliant and overt resistance required strategic regulation of how emotions were communicated during confrontations. An experiment by Power and her colleagues (2011) illustrates the narrow margin poor women navigate when communicating with more powerful groups. Participants in their study responded more negatively to a hypothetical poor woman who expressed anger about her economic status and donated less money to her than to a target who expressed feeling ashamed of her poverty (Power et al., 2011). With respect to our respondents, these findings underscore the importance of honing effective self-presentation skills and maintaining “emotional control” as to not alienate shelter staff and other service providers. Emotion management may also help low-income women reclaim moral fitness as mothers and citizens (Lavee & Benjamin, 2016).

The small sample size and US focus of our study underscore the need for US and international analyses of poor mothers’ critical resistance strategies. Moreover, although poor, precariously housed, and ethnically diverse, the mothers we spoke with were also relatively privileged. All respondents had left shelters and were currently housed, were recruited via nonprofit organizations suggesting at least some connection with support services, had the time and willingness to be interviewed, and were fluent in English. Further research is needed to understand whether similar critical resistance strategies are used by a broader range of low-income mothers in the US and other countries. In the US, women for whom English is not their first language, for instance, may face a different set of constraints in their interactions with shelter staff and in negotiating shelter rules. Additionally, our inclusion criteria limited our sample to mothers who had lived in a family shelter for one month or longer. This means that we did not speak with women who were denied entrance, left prior to the end of their stay, or were evicted before 30 days. Understanding whether responses to mothers’ critical resistance plays a role in early departure or shelter eviction is crucial. Shelter rules and/or experiences of stereotyping and discrimination may also be more extreme for these women. Finally, we did not interview shelter staff and volunteers; however, doing so would lend insight into how diverse stakeholders’ view shelter dynamics.

Homelessness among female-headed households is a problem in many industrialized countries around the world and in the US shows little sign of abating. Nor does the neoliberalism that pervades dominant understandings of poverty, homelessness, and safety net programs (Reppond & Bullock, 2018). Shelters are a microcosm of larger societal class, race, and gender power dynamics, and how homeless mothers critically resist interpersonal and institutional marginalization is crucial to deepening psychological understandings of mobilization, resistance, and strategic self-presentation. Equally crucial is developing shelter policies and programming that fosters women’s well-being and autonomy rather than reinscribe dominant stereotypes. Our findings make clear that US shelter rules that infantilize mothers or take a “one size fits all” approach (e.g. forbidding cell phones at night) undermine rather than support mothers and their families. It is our hope that taking a critical feminist approach to these practices will bring us closer to envisioning new approaches to reducing homelessness and caring for sheltered families.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank the women who candidly shared their experiences living with their child/ren in family homeless shelters. We appreciate the research assistants who helped with transcription and coding: Jessica Azer, Justin Barnett, Terra Crowl, Madison Joselowsky, Ashley Luna, Hanna McPheron, Marisa Patel, Sydney Schmall, and Lauren Wurst.

Declaration of conflicting interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: The findings reported in this article were part of the first author’s doctoral dissertation completed at the University of California, Santa Cruz. This research was supported by funding from the Society for the Psychological Study of Social Issues and UCSC’s Graduate Division, Division of Social Sciences, and Department of Psychology.

Harmony A Reppond is an Assistant Professor of Psychology and affiliate faculty of Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of Michigan, Dearborn. She earned her MA in Experimental Psychology from San Jose State University and her PhD in Psychology and Feminist Studies from the University of California, Santa Cruz. Dr. Reppond’s research focuses on the social psychological and policy dimensions of social class. Specifically, she examines the causes and consequences of economic inequality, food (in)security, and housing (in)stability. She is a faculty expert for the University of Michigan Poverty Solutions Strategic Initiative.

Heather E Bullock is Professor of Psychology and Director of the Blum Center on Poverty, Social Enterprise, and Participatory Governance at the University of California, Santa Cruz. She studies social psychological aspects of economic justice, focusing on women’s experiences of poverty; intersections of classism, racism, and sexism; attitudes and beliefs that predict support for antipoverty policies; and the impact of framing on policy preferences. Before joining the faculty at UCSC, Dr. Bullock served as an APA Congressional Fellow with the US Senate Committee on Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions – Democratic Office.

References

Averitt

S. S.

(2003) “Homelessness is not a choice!” The plight of homeless women with preschool children living in temporary shelters. Journal of Family Nursing 9: 79–100.

Baptista

Benjaminsen

Busch-Geertsema

Pleace

(2017, December) Family homelessness in Europe. European Observatory on Homelessness. No. 7. Retrieved from https://www.feantsaresearch.org/download/feantsa-studies_07_web3386127540064828685.pdf.

Benjaminsen

Andrade

S. B.

(2015) Testing a typology of homelessness across welfare regimes: Shelter use in Denmark and the USA. Housing Studies 30: 858–876.

Braun

Clarke

(2013) Successful qualitative research: A practical guide for beginners, Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.

Browne

(2015) Dark matters: On the surveillance of blackness, Atlanta, GA: Duke University Press.

Bullock

H. E.

(2013) Women and poverty: Psychology, public policy, and social justice, Chichester, West Sussex, UK: John Wiley & Sons.

Bullock

H. E.

Truong

S. V.

Chhun

(2017) Combatting social exclusion: “Safe space” and the dynamics of inclusion at a homeless farming site. Journal of Poverty 21: 166–192.

Charmaz

Belgrave

(2012) Qualitative interviewing and grounded theory analysis. In: Gubrium

J. F.

Holstein

J.A.

Marvasti

A. B.

McKinney

K. D.

(eds) The SAGE handbook of interview research: The complexity of the craft, Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE, pp. 347–366.

Clawson

Trice

(2000) Poverty as we know it: Media portrayals of the poor. Public Opinion Quarterly 64: 53–64.

10.

Clifford

Piston

(2017) Explaining public support for counterproductive homeless policy: The role of disgust. Political Behavior 39: 503–525.

11.

Connolly

(2000a) Homeless mothers: Face to face with women and poverty, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

12.

Connolly

(2000b) Mythical mothers and dichotomies of good and evil: Homeless mothers in the United States. In: Ragone

Twine

F. W.

(eds) Ideologies and technologies of motherhood, New York, NY: Routledge, pp. 263–294.

13.

Cosgrove

Flynn

(2005) Marginalized mothers: Parenting without a home. Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy 5: 127–143.

14.

Croghan

Miell

(1998) Strategies of resistance: ‘Bad’ mothers dispute the evidence. Feminism & Psychology 8: 445–465.

15.

DeWard

S. L.

Moe

A. M.

(2010) Like a prison!: Homeless women’s narratives of surviving shelter. Journal of Sociology and Social Welfare 37: 115–135.

16.

Dodson

Schmalzbauer

(2005) Poor mothers and habits of hiding: Participatory methods in poverty research. Journal of Marriage and Family 67: 949–959.

17.

Dovidio

J. F.

Gluszek

John

M. S.

Ditlmann

Lagunes

(2010) Understanding bias toward Latinos: Discrimination, dimensions of difference, and experience of exclusion. Journal of Social Issues 66: 59–78.

18.

DuBois, J. W. (2005). Representing discourse. Retrieved from http://www.linguistics.ucsb.edu/projects/transcription/A08format.pdf.

19.

DuMonthier, A., & Dusenbery, M. (2016). Intersections of domestic violence and economic security (IWPR #B362). Institute for Women’s Policy Research. Retrieved from https://iwpr.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/B362-Domestic-Violence-and-Economic-Security-1.pdf.

20.

Friedman

(2000) Parenting in public: Family shelter and public assistance, New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

21.

Gilliom

(2001) Overseers of the poor: Surveillance, resistance, and the limits of privacy, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

22.

Goffman

(1959) The presentation of self in everyday life, New York, NY: Anchor Books.

23.

Gonyea, D. (2017, October 24). Majority of white Americans say they believe whites face discrimination. National Public Radio. Retrieved from http://www.npr.org/2017/10/24/559604836/majority-of-white-americans-think-theyre-discriminated-against.

24.

Gooden

S. T.

(2010) Addressing racial disparities in social welfare programs: Using social equity analysis to examine the problem. Journal of Health and Social Policy 22: 1–12.

25.

Hartnett

H. P.

Harding

(2005) Geography and shelter: Implications for community practice with people experiencing homelessness. Journal of Progressive Human Services 16: 25–46.

26.

Hartnett

H. P.

Postmus

J. L.

(2010) The function of shelters for women: Assistance or social control? Journal of Human Behavior in the Social Environment 20: 289–302.

27.

Herbst-Debby

(2018) Doing good motherhood: Creating their own responsible single mother model. Women’s Studies International Forum 69: 151–158.

28.

Hesse-Biber, S. N., & Yaiser, M. L. (Eds.). (2004). Feminist perspectives on social research. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

29.

Hoffman

Coffey

(2008) Dignity and indignation: How people experiencing homelessness view services and providers. The Social Science Journal 45: 207–222.

30.

Hollander

J. A.

Einwohner

R. L.

(2004) Conceptualizing resistance. Sociological Forum 19: 533–554.

31.

Johnsen

Fitzpatrick

Watts

(2018) Homelessness and social control: A typology. Housing Studies 33: 1106–1126.

32.

Kelly

(2010) Regulating the reproduction and mothering of poor women: The controlling image of the welfare mother in television news coverage of welfare reform. Journal of Poverty 14: 76–96.

33.

Lavee

Benjamin

(2016) “I’ve got no choice:” Low-income mothers’ emotional management of caring crisis. Journal of Family Issues 37: 997–1021.

34.

Leach

C. W.

Livingstone

A. G.

(2015) Contesting the meaning of intergroup disadvantage: Towards a psychology of resistance. Journal of Social Issues 71: 614–632.

35.

Limbert

W. M.

Bullock

H. E.

(2005) ‘Playing the fool’: US welfare policy from a critical race perspective. Feminism & Psychology 15: 253–274.

36.

(2014) Enhancing groundedness in realist grounded theory research. Qualitative Research 1: 61–76.

37.

Luna

Y. M.

(2009) Single welfare mothers’ resistance. Journal of Poverty 13: 441–461.

38.

Mayberry

L. S.

Shinn

Benton

J. G.

Wise

(2014) Families experiencing housing instability: The effects of housing programs on family routines and rituals. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 84: 95–109.

39.

McCormack

(2004) Resisting the welfare mother: The power of welfare discourse and tactics of resistance. Critical Sociology 30: 355–383.

40.

McCormack

(2005) Stratified reproduction and poor women’s resistance. Gender & Society 19: 660–679.

41.

Phelan

Link

B. G.

Moore

R. E.

Stueve

(1997) The stigma of homelessness: The impact of the label “homeless” on attitudes toward poor persons. Social Psychology Quarterly 60: 323–337.

42.

Phillips

(2015) Homelessness: Perceptions of causes and solutions. Journal of Poverty 19: 1–15.

43.

Power

C. A.

Cole

E. R.

Fredrickson

B. L.

(2011) Poor women and the expression of shame and anger: The price of breaking social class feeling rules. Feminism & Psychology 21: 179–197.

44.

Reppond

H. A.

Bullock

H. E.

(2018) Framing homeless policy: Reducing cash aid as a compassionate solution. Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy 18: 284–306.

45.

Riggs

D. W.

Bartholomaeus

(2018) “It’s just what you do”: Australian middle-class heterosexual couples negotiating compulsory parenthood. Feminism & Psychology 28: 373–389.

46.

Ritchie

A. J.

(2017) Invisible no more: Police violence against black women and women of color, Boston, MA: Beacon Press.

47.

Savage

(2016) Gendering women’s homelessness. Irish Journal of Applied Social Studies 16: 43–64.

48.

Sevon

(2005) Timing motherhood: Experiencing and narrating the choice to become a mother. Feminism & Psychology 15: 461–482.

49.

Smith

(1997) Psychology’s undervaluation of single motherhood. Feminism & Psychology 7: 529–532.

50.

Soss

Fording

R. C.

Schram

S. F.

(2011) Disciplining the poor: Neoliberal paternalism and the persistent power of race, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

51.

Strauss

Corbin

(1998) Basics of qualitative research: Procedures and techniques for developing grounded theory, Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.

52.

Toro, P. A. (2007). Toward an international understanding of homelessness. Journal of Social Issues, 63, 461–481.

53.

Watkins-Hayes

Kovalsky

(2016) The discourse of deservingness: Morality and the dilemmas of poverty relief in debate and practice. In: Brady

Burton

L.M.

(eds) Oxford handbook of the social science of poverty, New York, NY: Oxford University Press, pp. 193–220.

54.

Williams

J. C.

(1996) Geography of the homeless shelter: Staff surveillance and resident resistance. Urban Anthropology and Studies of Cultural Systems and World Economic Development 25: 75–113.

55.

Williams

J. C.

(2016) A roof over my head: Homeless women and the shelter industry, Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado.