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6 GROUNDCOVER NEWS HOMELESSNESS People in the Neighborhood: Lakira People in the Neighborhood is a Groundcover News column that focuses on the unhoused community in Washtenaw County. The first thing I thought when I met Lakira was that she was a unique individual. Her manner of dress reminded me of a fortune teller. Her eyes were a striking blue that seemed otherworldly. Her manner suggested regency. Lakira told me she was a Pisces. If you follow astrology — it fits. “Where did you grow up?” I asked. Lakira replied, “South England. I was born in Tennessee, but was raised in England. My parents were aristocrats. I was born into something that's not normal, that I'm [just now] learning. It was strange, I lived with relatives, my mom and I had this peculiar relationship. She was just like a presence. You know? I only knew of my dad; never had a relationship with him. I'm just accustomed to traditions that are not normal. And I'm trying to break that cycle. Because I broke free and I'm a genie out of the bottle and I'm never going back in.” I was a little astounded. I followed up asking, “All right, so would it be helpful to talk about some of those things? They sound kind of personal, but if you're willing to share, that’s great.” She replied, “In short, I come from a world where I had no say in anything, literally anything. Little gestures and phrases would dictate my behavior and responses. I didn't tie my own shoes until I was 21, and I didn't dress myself alone until I was, like, 24. That should give you a perspective on how much control they had over me. That was only a decade ago.” Shocked, I asked her how that impacted her as an adult. She replied, “I'm vulnerable to a lot of things. I don't know. Like, I'm coming from a world where I'm not accustomed to having any outright emotional or physical contact without being told who or what I could connect with. It's intoxicating [the connections]. So once you have something, you don't want to let it go. So, I guess I'm not clingy, but at the same time, once I have a connection, I'm doing everything possible to keep it. I'm loyal to a fault, and it's a problem. “People take that to the extreme, and use it, and abuse it, and then somehow I'm wrong for being loyal. It doesn't make sense to me, but fuck me for caring right? And then how can you care and say you love me, and ‘you're such a keeper’ to me and at the same time [abuse me]? That is true sin in a way I cannot comprehend. And I don't know if I'll ever forget it. Forgiving it is JIM CLARK Groundcover vendor No. 139 a whole other level. You know? Because I don't hold grudges, and I'm not vindictive, but at the same time, fuck that noise. I see you now. Thank you for showing me, and I'm good on that. You know?” “Who are you being loyal to?” I asked. “Everyone who probably is unworthy of my graces,” she informed me. “Let's pivot,” I said, “you're homeless now. How long have you been homeless?” “This is my fourth winter being homeless,” she added for emphasis. “What's in the works for you?” I asked. “Is the county helping? Are you on a list of some kind?” She replied, “I'm on many lists, but it's tiresome, it's kind of tedious now, and annoying. “I met the mayor and a city councilman in person,” Lakira continued. “I said to them, ‘You know me. You know what's going on. You had to accommodate me for an extended period of time because you destroyed all my shit. You were fully aware of me and my situation and yet, here we are.’” During her second winter of homelessness, the Ypsilanti City Council threatened to evict Lakira from her campsite near the downtown area. The temperatures were typical for February in Michigan — single digits and teens. After much protest from activists and good samaritans, the City provided a storage cube for Lakira’s property while she sought another place to sleep. Cell phones are easily lost during homelessness. Lakira lost hers and was unable to stay in contact with the City regarding her things. The cube was removed. Lakira’s property is now in the wind. “I went to Detroit for a minute,” she recalled. “There was some other program out there, and it seemed safe.” “You went out there to get help that you couldn't get here?” I asked, to clarify. “Yes, but it didn’t work out,” she replied, “I had switched my things over only for them to withhold my stuff to the point where all my food benefits were cut. Because they refused to just sign off and just say, I was no longer there. I was only there for like five days, six days. Then I get out there, and I'm left in my post-situational vehicle, being like, detained from me, it was weird.” Lakira lost her car while in Detroit. “Where's your vehicle?” I asked. “It's gone now,” she replied. “How did you lose it?” I asked. She answered, “Someone hit it and the engine came off.” “You weren’t able to fix it?” I asked. “No,” she answered. “It went to the junkyard. I was like, fuck it, I don't want it.” “You weren’t able to get another vehicle?” I questioned. “No, because my credentials kept getting stolen from that point on. My driver's license, my credit cards, every month, continually lost or stolen for the past two years. Every time I get caught up, something happens and all of a sudden my tablet's broken or it's missing. My phone, my wallet just falls into the abyss, even though I just left for 30 seconds. I know I just had it, I'm not crazy. I can't lose something I'm constantly touching! I've been traumatized by it!” she said excitedly. I strongly related to her predicament. During my homelessness episode I repeatedly lost keys, wallets and cell phones like they were travel mugs. “And then,” she went on, “I know for a fact that people are being hired to harass me. And I have had people confess to such things. Like, they're actively seeking to sabotage me, hurt me, or worse, you know? I know this for a fact. It's something I'm not making up. I have people literally just truly flat-out tell me ‘Hey, this is what I'm supposed to do.’” “What do you need to be in a better place?” I asked. She replied, “I need my proper credentials back, first. That’s the foundation. I need a safe place to stay for three to six months—somewhere stable, without a constant time limit hanging over my head. I just need a place where I can exist and regroup, not be out here in a tent or constantly moving.” “What kind of work can you do?” I asked. “I’m mostly exempt from traditional work right now, but I do have skills,” she replied. “I teach mostly human anatomy and portrait art. That’s what I’m good at. I just haven’t had the chance to do it because I can’t focus while I’m dealing with all this. I need a foundation first. Once that’s in place, I can move forward from there.” “Last question: if you could go to college for free and study anything you wanted, what would it be?” I asked. “A kind of a cross between human psychology and archaeology,” she replied. “Interesting,” I responded. “Okay, why archaeology?” “Because I'm a history buff,” she said. “I’ve always had an urge to chronicle. To keep records. I come from a world where I'm surrounded by history, so it's just ingrained. I have a long history of family records stretching far back and I've been here before multiple times.” “Hopefully this life works out better,” I added. Lakira replied, “Indeed.” DECEMBER 26, 2025

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