Community

Homeless Census Rises by 47 Percent in Oakland

Published

7 years ago

July 27, 2019

Ken Epstein

Vann: “Mayor Schaaf has never taken the homeless issue seriously.”

Schaaf finally says, “We now need to act with a sense of urgency”

The number of homeless people in Oakland has grown by 47 percent in the past two years, faster than in San Francisco and Berkeley, according to a county survey released this week.

Following federal guidelines, officials organized volunteers who conducted a one-day, “point-in-time” count, which found 4,071 homeless people in Oakland living in vehicles, on the street or in shelters, compared with 2,761 in 2017 and 2,191 people in 2015.

Of those counted, 861 were living in shelters, and 3,210 were unsheltered.

The homeless rate in Oakland has reached 940 per 100,000 residents, compared with San Francisco’s rate of 906 and Berkeley’s rate of 898.

“Of course, it is disappointing … that we’ve had the highest increase, at least in the Bay Area,” said Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf in an interview with the S.F. Chronicle. “It shows that we need to do things differently, and we need to act with a sense of urgency that is greater than anything we’ve done in the past.”

“These increases are not unique to Oakland, they’re throughout this county, they’re throughout this state and throughout the entire West Coast,” she said in an interview on KPIX Channel 5. Nearby counties need to look at this crisis as “an all hands on deck situation,” she said.

According to the survey, 47 percent of Alameda County’s homeless are African American, while African Americans only make up 11 percent of the county’s population. Thirty percent of the county’s homeless are white, while 17 percent are Latino.

The survey also found that 57 percent of the homeless in Alameda County have lived in the county for 10 years or more. Forty percent said they are natives, while 12 percent said they moved to the area in the past year.

Thirty-four percent of the county’s homeless residents live in tents, and 23 percent live in vehicles.

The results of this new survey do not come as a surprise to the people who are working on the ground working with the homeless and advocating the solutions to the crisis.

“It didn’t come as a shock to us,” said James Vann of the Oakland-based Homeless Advocacy Working Group (HAWG) in an interview with the Oakland Post. “There were about 70 homeless encampments, and now it’s between 90 and 100 encampments, and each of those encampments has grown.”

Criticizing the Mayor Schaaf’s policies, Vann said, “This report should not have been a shock. The reason it’s a shock is that (Mayor Schaaf) never took the homeless issue seriously.” Last year, the city only added $1.5 million to the budget for homelessness, “which only pays the administrative costs for one and half of the Tuff Shed villages,” he said.

Seeing some hope on the horizon, he said that that $10 million or more may be coming into Oakland due to initiatives of Gov. Gavin Newsom. Additionally, new money for homeless programs will begin entering city coffers late next year as result of Measure W, a tax on vacant properties and buildings, which local homeless advocates worked to pass with the support of Council President Rebecca Kaplan.

Margaretta Lin, executive director of Just Cities/ the Dellums Institute, told the Oakland Post that the “point-in-time” survey indicates the rapid grow of homelessness in Oakland but does not reflect the true numbers of those who do not have a place to live, which is over 10,000 people.

“Based on a comprehensive Alameda County report conducted in 2014-2015, there were more than 9,000 homeless people in Oakland, and we know on that basis the number is much more today,” she said.

We’re seeing a new homelessness phenomenon, where the homeless population is not just made up of people with mental health or substance abuse problems, said Lin.

“There are people who are working who have lost their homes because they can’t afford the crazy rent. We have people who have minimum wages jobs who are homeless, children who are homeless and even childcare workers who are homeless.”

Because this is a crisis, she said, the city needs to adopt “less expensive, immediate solutions” such as tiny homes, repurposed containers and mobile homes,” dignified, aesthetically pleasing housing models similar to what other cities have done.”

These kinds of homes can cost about $10,000 and be put up in a month, compared with traditional housing, which costs about $600,000 and takes three-to-five years to build, she said. Much of Oakland’s homeless housing strategies, so far, has been transitional housing, only meant for temporary stays of up to six months or building permanent housing which is expensive and takes several years.

State funding can make difference, “depending on how the money is deployed,” Lin said. “People need housing. It can’t be a shelter bed for one night or transitional housing for six months. They need to be able to live in a dignified place for several years until we get more permanent housing built.”

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Ken Epstein

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Black History

Listening as a Lifeline: A Doula’s Witness to Black Maternal Health

OAKLAND POST — Maternal mortality and pregnancy-related mortality use different time frames and methods and are not interchangeable. Finalized 2024 CDC data recorded 649 maternal deaths nationally. The overall rate was 17.9 deaths per 100,000 live births, but for non-Hispanic Black women it was 44.8, compared with 14.2 for White women and 12.1 for Hispanic women.

Published

2 days ago

October 4, 2026

Post News Group

By Antoinette Stewart-Eneh, Special to California Black Media Partners

Word Count: 1058

Note: Client A, B & C, names are withheld for privacy; these accounts reflect my recollections as their Doula.

Client A rocked her hips on a birthing ball, surrounded by pale wood and warm textiles in a softly lit Scandinavian-style office. I was her doula through a Southern California maternal health company combining nurse-led care, technology, and wraparound support.

She was a healthy Black woman in her thirties. Her baby girl was doing well; her partner took notes as we discussed labor and advocacy.

Then we turned to their chosen hospital. I knew it well—and remembered a phrase from another client’s experience: “Policy of Sovereignty.”

Client B had been told she needed a repeat cesarean as a precaution, though the reasoning was unclear. Her obstetrician, who performed her first cesarean two years earlier, had assured her throughout pregnancy that she was healthy, healed, and ready for a vaginal birth. We asked staff to review her chart, consult her obstetrician, and reconsider immediate surgery. Instead, they invoked the “Policy of Sovereignty.”

The physician on duty, we were told, had final authority, regardless of her established care plan. I asked whether an ultrasound or reassessing the baby’s position could offer clarity. Cesareans can be lifesaving. But were Client B’s history, informed consent, and circumstances guiding this decision—or was routine overriding individualized care? We kept asking for her obstetrician. Beneath every request was a deeper question: Was she being heard?

The Numbers Behind the Stories

Statistics arrive in clean columns. The experiences behind them do not.

Maternal mortality and pregnancy-related mortality use different time frames and methods and are not interchangeable. Finalized 2024 CDC data recorded 649 maternal deaths nationally. The overall rate was 17.9 deaths per 100,000 live births, but for non-Hispanic Black women it was 44.8, compared with 14.2 for White women and 12.1 for Hispanic women.

In California, Black birthing people experienced 56.5 pregnancy-related deaths per 100,000 live births during 2020–2022—3.8 times the White rate and four times the Asian rate.

As a doula serving Los Angeles and San Bernardino Counties, I see faces behind those numbers. I remember concerns raised softly, then firmly, then desperately. I am tired of watching Black families enter spaces meant to protect them, only to discover they must defend themselves while laboring, bleeding, trembling, or recovering.

Returning to Client A

Client A’s labor stretched nearly 48 hours. As her condition worsened, she, her partner, and I asked whether a cesarean should happen sooner. A provider questioned my place as a doula, then said she was next.

Six more hours passed.

She entered surgery visibly ill with a serious uterine infection, her baby malpositioned and stuck. Her partner later recalled the provider saying, “This baby would never have made it through the birth canal.”

Those words landed like a blow. Our urgency had been treated as ignorance. With Client B, we questioned why surgery was inevitable. With Client A, why it was delayed. Doula advocacy is not about one kind of birth. It is about informed consent, individualized care, and timely action. Hospital routine should never outweigh the person carrying the risk.

Survival Cannot Be the Standard

The Black maternal health crisis includes unequal care, untreated conditions, racial bias, delayed referrals, poor communication, and inadequate postpartum support. It is about birth plans respected only until a hospital becomes less busy and postpartum care that asks whether a mother survived, not whether she has what she needs to recover.

Survival cannot be the standard. Technology can support care, but it cannot replace human connection. An algorithm cannot detect fear in a patient’s eyes, and a mission statement alone cannot ensure adequate staffing or culturally responsive care.

The Story of Client C

Before I arrived, I heard the chaos through Client C’s phone. Staff struggled to locate her baby’s heartbeat on an external monitor as her fear and blood pressure rose. I pleaded for an internal electrode before surgery.

“There’s not enough time,” a nurse said.

“I would like to wait for my doula,” Client C called out.

But she was medicated, hurried through consent, and wheeled away while I listened.

In the operating room, after a shift change, another nurse placed an internal electrode and said, “The previous monitor wasn’t working.”

No one responded.

According to her father, the obstetrician avoided eye contact: “We need to move forward.”

Surgery may still have been necessary; that was not mine to determine. But if faulty equipment helped create the emergency, the family deserved acknowledgment and explanation—not silence. No family should have to wonder whether major surgery followed an unavoidable crisis or a machine failure no one recognized in time.

From Prevention to Accountability

After supporting nearly 100 families, I have learned that danger often begins before admission. I have urged clients to seek care—and heard why they feared returning: dismissed pain, harsh words, shame for asking questions.

Care cannot be holistic where Black families do not feel safe enough to speak or return. Representation matters, but providers of color cannot repair inequity alone. They need adequate staffing, mentorship, culturally responsive training, reliable equipment, and colleagues that are reflective of all the aforementioned. It’s not the Black providers job to care for just the Black patients, everyone should have the same goal.

The Momnibus Act, California’s Medi-Cal doula benefit, the Transforming Maternal Health Model and the Perinatal Equity Initiative require more than promises; they need sustained funding, reliable reimbursement and accountable implementation.

Birth should be sacred. Yet too many Black birthing people arrive carrying the burden of proving their pain is real. A doula can listen, educate, comfort, and advocate—but cannot repair a system that refuses to listen. The true measure of progress is what happens when a Black birthing person says, “Something is wrong.”

Are they believed? When equipment fails, is that failure acknowledged? Do families leave not merely alive, but safe, respected, supported, and whole?

Until those answers are consistently yes, California’s maternal health success story remains unfinished.

About the Author

Antoinette Stewart-Eneh is a mother of two, holistic maternal wellness advocate, and birth and postpartum doula who has supported families since 2019. She serves as program operations coordinator for Frontline Doulas, a volunteer client coordinator with the Joy in Birthing Foundation and a childbirth educator in South Los Angeles. She is studying to become a midwife and lactation educator.

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Commentary

‘We Don’t Talk Trash — We Pick Up Trash!’

OAKLAND POST — Following the cleanup, Jones talked with Richard Johnson, CEO of Formerly Incarcerated Giving Back (FIGB). Johnson said he wanted to bring formerly incarcerated nonprofits together not only to help clean up the city, but also to bring youth with them to mentor the next generation.

Published

2 days ago

October 4, 2026

Post News Group

High Street Coalition volunteers pick up trash on Sept. 26. Left to right are: Jo Ann, Ruben, JoJo, Jess, Jonathan ‘Fitness’ Jones and Linda in front. Photo courtesy of Linda.

By Dr. Maritony Jones, Special to The Post

When community activist Jonathan “Fitness” Jones heard concerns from senior residents in East Oakland about illegal dumping, recurring trash issues and the health hazards they created, he decided that watching the problem was not enough.

Jones, a member of the African American Sports and Entertainment Group (AASEG) and an Oakland Private Industry Council board member, learned that seniors were frustrated by the recurrence of illegal dumping even when trash has been cleared. Recurring trash can contribute to unsanitary conditions, attract rodents and leave residents feeling that their neighborhoods are being overlooked.

On Saturday, Sept. 26, Mr. Jones joined High Street Coalition volunteers at Dick’s Donuts near High Street and Quigley Street, spending the morning picking up trash and helping beautify the surrounding neighborhood.

High Street Coalition volunteers organize community cleanups on the second and fourth Saturdays of each month.

Following the cleanup, Jones talked with Richard Johnson, CEO of Formerly Incarcerated Giving Back (FIGB). Johnson said he wanted to bring formerly incarcerated nonprofits together not only to help clean up the city, but also to bring youth with them to mentor the next generation.

Jones and Johnson discussed developing a community model that brings formerly incarcerated individuals, Oakland youth and nonprofit organizations together to clean and beautify the city.

The vision is to create opportunities for formerly incarcerated adults to take leadership roles while mentoring young people through hands-on community service. The program could also provide youth with opportunities to develop leadership skills, learn teamwork and responsibility, and potentially gain employment experience.

The goal is bigger than removing trash from the streets. It is about restoring neighborhoods while building relationships between generations and creating opportunities for people with lived experience to give back to their communities.

Jones believes the message is simple:

“We don’t talk trash, we pick up trash.”

The proposed collaboration seeks to bring Oakland nonprofits, formerly incarcerated leaders, youth, residents, businesses and community organizations together around a shared purpose — cleaning the town, beautifying Oakland and building a stronger community together.