This month’s reporter theme is “Has your race/privilege/class affected your health and housing?” and the first thing that comes to mind is ‘of course it has’. But then I wonder how it has and I become a little bit stuck.

My period of homelessness happened when I was living in the same city where I grew up. In 2020 CHAD (the Centre for Health and Development) reported about Stoke-on-Trent:

In general

• Stoke-on-Trent is one of the 20% most deprived districts/unitary authorities in England and about 24% (12,660) children live in low income families.
• The health of people in Stoke-on-Trent is generally worse than the England average.
• Life expectancy for both men and women is lower than the England average.
• Life expectancy is 8.2 years lower for men and 7.2 years lower for women in the most deprived areas of Stoke-on-Trent than in the least deprived areas.

Child health

• In Year 6, 24.9% (792) of children are classified as obese, worse than the average for England.
• Levels of teenage pregnancy, GCSE attainment (average attainment 8 score), breastfeeding and smoking in pregnancy are worse than the England average.

Adult health

• Rate of alcohol-related harm hospital admissions is 1127 (per 100,000), worse than the average for England. This represents 2,677 admissions per year.
• The rate for self-harm hospital admissions is 375 (per 100,000), worse than the average for England. This represents 975 admissions per year.
• Estimated levels of excess weight in adults (aged 18+), smoking prevalence in adults (aged 18+) and physically active adults (aged 19+) are worse than the England average.
• The rates of new sexually transmitted infections and killed and seriously injured on roads are better than the England average.
• The rate of hip fractures in older people (aged 65+) is worse than the England average.
• The rates of statutory homelessness, under 75 mortality rate from cardiovascular diseases, under 75 mortality rate from cancer and employment (aged 16-64) are worse than the England average.

[source]

 

Paints quite a picture, doesn’t it?

I was homeless in 2013 and had stopped accessing community mental health treatment when those statistics were created. I was still living in the council flat I was allocated after my homelessness, which was in one of the most deprived postcodes in the city. I had tried to move away on numerous occasions, but my credit score prevented me from moving. I wanted to move closer to my job in Manchester resulting in requiring needing to pay four times the rent I was currently paying due to the vast difference in private rental prices between Stoke-on-Trent and Manchester.

The economic landscape in Stoke is one of most post-industrial towns and cities – the pottery industry and coal mines either closed or went abroad, the area lost its main source of jobs leaving lots of skilled workers without employment, a lack of investment meant no major employment alternatives to replace the old, no investment was brought in except for retail and call centres. As time progressed the city became further and further mired in its situation.

Stoke today is a confused little place. It doesn’t have a sense of who it is or what it stands for. For the first time in its history, it has three conservative party MP’s. It was the second highest voting area for Brexit. Stoke wants to catch up with the rest of the country but doesn’t know what it wants to look like when it gets there. I love the city but it’s like the love you have for certain family members who you will defend passionately against attacks from others but who don’t want regular contact with.

What does this have to do with my experiences? It’s difficult to say. I had recently lost my job at the local hospital when I became homeless, I was living alone (with two cats) in a two-bed terraced house in one of the better areas of Stoke, I wasn’t struggling for money until my mental health degenerated and I lost my income.

Being female and vulnerable with no connection to my family meant that I was given a high housing priority and got me to the front of the queue for a support worker. At the time, you could say that my personal circumstances and things like my being white, educated, eloquent and intelligent all worked favourably. I was only homeless for a short time. I was treated far better than others I know who have used the same services as me.

At the time I was homeless there was a large Arts Council grant given to the city due to its deprivation. A few years later the National Lottery Communities Fund granted Stoke Fulfilling Lives money to help with the levels of multiple complex needs its population were experiencing. Both projects were hugely significant in my recovery and, eventually, getting away. In short, deprivation ended up benefitting me.

I’m realising this with a sense of guilt. I defied the odds and opportunities related to deprivation boosted me and have created a better life. Yes, this is what those projects were in part designed to do but it somehow doesn’t seem fair that most people haven’t been able to do this. I still feel similarly about when I was granted my ESA and didn’t have to go through a big appeal process.

I’ll return now to the question posed at the start of this piece – “Has your race/privilege/class affected your health and housing?” and the answer is still yes, only now I know it affected me positively and I don’t quite know what to make of that.