A DIFFICULT TRANSITION

Transitioning to civilian life can be a long, painful journey for a soldier. Injuries — visible and invisible — suffered during service can take years, sometimes decades, to heal completely; loneliness, isolation, night terrors, flashbacks, anxiety and other mental health struggles — and the unhealthy, dangerous behaviors that often accompany them — are frighteningly common.

As a society, we’ve gotten better at recognizing the symptoms and treating our warriors so they can more easily cope with daily life on their return.

Nevertheless, our nation’s streets are home to tens of thousands of people who once raised their right hands and pledged their lives so the rest of us could sleep safely, knowing our enemies would have to go through them before they got to us.

This Monday, we celebrate those who lost their lives fighting for this country. We should also take a moment to remember those who gave so much of themselves to this nation that their lives were lost after they came home. 

It’s easy to exalt crisply uniformed soldiers in formation on the parade ground, or to bow our heads in solemn gratitude at the sight of so many flag-draped coffins; it’s not so easy to thank the homeless veterans who scratch out an existence on the fringes of our awareness. But haven’t they also vowed to give their lives for our freedom? Their circumstances have changed, but they are still soldiers, our soldiers, and when homeless veterans lose their battle with depression or addiction or violence on the streets, they too may be a casualty of war. And we should never forget that.

When her term of service ended in 2014, Nicole Gray returned to Northeast Florida. A series of unfortunate events soon led to a place the 14-year Navy and Army veteran never imagined herself: homeless, living in her car.

Rather than exceptional, Gray’s experience with homelessness is appallingly common for female veterans. A 2011 paper published by Jacobs Institute of Women’s Health reported that women veterans are up to four times more likely to be homeless than non-veterans. That paper also found that homelessness among female veterans was on the rise.

Shannon Nazworth, executive director of Ability Housing, a local nonprofit that provides housing assistance for homeless and disabled persons, said that the factors that increase female veterans’ likelihood of homelessness are often associated with circumstances predating and contemporaneous to their time in the military. “Many females who enter the services are doing so to get out of other situations that may be putting them at risk to begin with, such as violence, poverty … there’s also trauma during military service.”

When she tried to get help, Gray says, she discovered that the safety nets available to male veterans were not as accessible for her.

“[I was] running into a hardship that there’s not any place here in Jacksonville that will house female veterans … they take male veterans but they won’t take female veterans,” she said.

Living on the streets can be deadly; the Centers for Disease Control & Prevention estimates that homelessness increases the mortality rate by five to nine times. For women, the streets are particularly dangerous. “The biggest difference is that there is a huge rate of abuse, both sexual and physical …” Nazworth said. “Unfortunately, it’s really rather extreme.”

Just as much as men, perhaps more due to the terrible risks to their well-being if they become homeless, women who have served in the military, where some studies estimate as many as one in three are sexually assaulted, need a safety net if they fall on hard times after their service ends.

It should never be true that a woman who has sworn to protect and serve comes home and finds that she is less likely to be protected and served by the very country for which she would have given her life. But in Jacksonville — which, it bears mention, is being sued by Ability Housing for denying a permit for a 12-unit housing facility for disabled, homeless veterans (it also bears mention that the complaint alleges that, in response to the suit, “The City retaliated immediately by cutting off Ability Housing’s funding from The Jacksonville Journey — a City program that had provided funding to Ability Housing for years.”) — that may very well be the case.

Eventually, Gray was able to get back on her feet. She found work, got a place to live. Improved circumstances haven’t made her forget the struggle, however. Hoping to help others avoid such hardship, last year, she started the nonprofit Got Your 6 Female Veteran Support Services, “designed to help assist female veterans in making the transition back to civilian life.” At times paying out of her own pocket, she’s been able to provide food, clothing, hygiene products, even rental assistance. But it isn’t enough. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any funding to continue to provide these services.”

The struggle continues.

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Got Your 6 accepts donations at gofundme.com/gotyour6.