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disability rights
This 1 Neat Trick Can Dramatically Reduce Homelessness
Supplemental Security Income checks should be increased to meet recipients’ needs.
Apr 12, 2025
Sarah’s situation was one we see a lot in eviction court. Hers was among the 3 of every 4 households whose incomes are low enough to qualify for a federal housing subsidy but do not receive it because we underfund the programs so dramatically. So Sarah had been living for a few years in a dilapidated house where her absentee landlord charged her well below market-rate rent—just $650 a month. The implicit bargain was that Sarah would not complain to the health department or anyone else about the caved-in ceilings, mold, broken appliances, and mice that came in through the many holes in the house’s rotting exterior.
That unholy arrangement unraveled when Sarah’s landlord sold the property to a buyer who discovered Sarah had no written lease and wanted to demolish the house. We met Sarah (not her real name) in court after she had ignored multiple notices to move.
“I know the judge is going to order me out of there,” she told us. But she had looked around at available rental units and couldn’t find anything for less than $900 a month. Which was a problem, because Sarah’s entire monthly income was only a few dollars more than that. “How am I supposed to live now?” she asked.
It's a good question.
A significant portion of our nation’s unhoused population are SSI recipients, limited to an income that doesn’t come close to covering the costs of housing, food, transportation, clothing, and other necessities.
Like 7.5 million other people in the United States, Sarah is a recipient of Supplemental Security Income, known as SSI. SSI is a federal program for persons who have little to no income or assets and are living with severe disabilities that leave them unable to work. Sarah, 67 years old, is legally blind, uses a wheelchair, and has multiple other chronic, debilitating conditions. That allows her to qualify for SSI.
But, to her point, it doesn’t allow her to live.
Sarah’s monthly SSI check is the maximum program amount of $967. Couples who are both eligible for SSI are maxed out at $1,450 per month. SSI recipients have to comply with tight restrictions on how much income they can make or assets they can own. Most are like Sarah, fully unable to work and with no other income. So they are condemned to poverty.
As Sarah was on the cusp of learning, SSI often condemns people to homelessness, too. A significant portion of our nation’s unhoused population are SSI recipients, limited to an income that doesn’t come close to covering the costs of housing, food, transportation, clothing, and other necessities.
“I’ve had many clients who received a monthly SSI check but still can’t afford the rent,” says Jesse Rabinowitz of the National Homeless Law Center. “When there is no housing, people have no choice but to sleep outside.” That grim reality of sleeping outside brings with it a significant chance of death from exposure, assault, and untreated health crises.
Mountains of evidence point to the main cause of homelessness being the problem faced by Rabinowitz’s clients and ours: a straightforward inability to pay monthly rent.
“I want to be absolutely clear that the reason people become unhoused is that they do not have access to housing that they can afford,” says Brian Goldstone, anthropologist and author of the new book, There is No Place for Us: Working and Homeless in America. “The answer isn’t addiction or mental illness; it’s that they didn’t have access to housing they could afford.”
SSI: Hard to Get, Hard to Live on Once You Get It
As Sarah was learning, life on an SSI check means there is essentially no safe housing that she can afford. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When Congress created the SSI program in 1972, the stated purpose was to “provide a positive assurance that the Nation’s aged, blind, and disabled people would no longer have to subsist on below poverty level incomes.” But the current SSI maximum benefit is well below the federal poverty line. The official poverty level itself is an underestimate of the costs incurred by people like Sarah who pay a “disability tax” of higher medical, transportation, and housing costs. That math is not mathing in particular for the women and persons of color who make up a disproportionate number of SSI recipients.
Because SSI in theory could ensure that all who cannot earn significant wages would receive a monthly stipend, it is sometimes compared to a universal basic income. But no one who has ever applied for SSI confuses the two. The program’s onerous financial and disability eligibility requirements make damn sure that there is nothing “universal” about SSI income. Less than half of all SSI applications are granted—less than a third of them at the initial application stage.
My and other service providers’ experience is that these systematic refusals occur despite the fact that the majority of SSI applicants we see are clearly eligible for the program. But the same disabilities and poverty-caused barriers that lead them to need SSI contribute to them getting snared in the red tape of the application process.
Just as we know that housing is the best response to homelessness, countless research studies confirm that increased income is a silver-bullet remedy for poverty.
Those who do successfully get enrolled in SSI face restrictive rules that all but guarantee they remain destitute. They are not allowed to receive more than $20 in cash or in-kind assistance from family or others. If a couple with disabilities marry, their combined monthly benefits are cut. Caps on savings leave SSI recipients unable to respond to life’s unexpected expenses like an uncovered medical cost or car repair. Ironically, this paternalism comes at a significant cost to taxpayers. SSI benefits are only 4% of the Social Security Administration’s outlay, but policing the program’s many recipient restrictions means SSI takes up 38% of the agency’s administrative costs.
SSI’s low benefit levels and many restrictions have been heavily criticized by poverty research and advocacy groups like the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, Center for American Progress, and Brookings Institution. The organization Justice in Aging has long pushed for SSI reform.
“We need to improve the program by raising benefit levels, reducing barriers to access, and making it easier for people to afford the daily costs of living,” says Tracey Groninger, Justice in Aging’s director of economic security.
Legislation proposed in the last Congress aimed to do just that. The Supplemental Security Income Restoration Act, sponsored by 36 House members and endorsed by over 100 organizations, would have raised the SSI monthly benefit amounts to the federal poverty level and ratcheted back the prohibitive asset and outside income restrictions. In this Congress, the newly-introduced Savings Penalty Elimination Act would allow SSI recipients to keep more savings while retaining their eligibility.
The benefits-increase bill did not succeed, and has not yet been reintroduced. Hopefully, that changes soon. Just as we know that housing is the best response to homelessness, countless research studies confirm that increased income is a silver-bullet remedy for poverty. Increasing SSI benefits to a level that covers basic needs would have a dramatic effect on Sarah’s life, the lives of millions of others, and all of our communities.
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The Lessons of Covid-19 and Its Long Haul: We Need Community Care
As Trump further weakens public health infrastructure, let us renew our attention to keeping each other safe, supporting the most vulnerable among us, and preventing more mass disablement.
Apr 10, 2025
The Trump administration’s decision to close the Heath and Human Services Office of Long COVID Research and Practice deals yet another blow to our already embattled public health system. This initiative, like the recently terminated Advisory Committee on Long COVID, had signaled much-needed attention to infection-associated chronic diseases, largely overlooked by the U.S. medical establishment.
An estimated 7.5% of adults in the United States suffer from Long Covid, which can affect multiple organ systems with over 200 symptoms from brain fog and sleep problems to joint pain and bedridden fatigue. A diagnosis of Long Covid describes symptoms that continue at least three months after contracting Covid-19. For some, symptoms eventually go away. But for others, symptoms get worse and, frighteningly, new symptoms appear—with no end in sight. Long Covid is variable and unpredictable. I know this because it happened to me.
Covid-19 laid bare our fragile health systems and the necessity of caring for one another.
After escaping Covid-19 for over three years, I developed a moderate case, with fever, cough, body ache, and fatigue. Four months later, when I had almost complete recovered, I suddenly took a turn for the worse. Over the past 15 months I have steadily improved, yet my life remains significantly changed. Aches and pains, post-exertional malaise, and a weakened immune system circumscribe my daily activities. Alongside the challenges of navigating the health conditions themselves is my limited ability to keep Covid-safe amid waning attention to Covid-19—as our government and institutions have abandoned Covid precautions. This puts us all at higher risk of Covid-19 infection, and for those of us with Long Covid this risk is exacerbated—each additional reinfection with Covid exposes us to further complications with Long Covid.
In such a climate of pandemic abandonment, punctuated as early as 2022 when then-President Joe Biden issued his dangerously delusional statement that we were post-pandemic, we can rely even less than before on our government and institutions to save us from either Covid-19 or Long Covid. We must prioritize cultivating our own spaces of care—focusing on prevention, mutual aid, and accommodations for the sick and disabled.
We Need to Cultivate Spaces of Collective Care
The earliest lessons of the pandemic remain true today—we can lower transmission rates through masking, physical distancing, and meeting online, among other precautions. While workplaces, businesses, and public spaces have varied in their implementation of Covid-19 safety, social justice groups, led by disability justice, have led the way from the start.
When the pandemic hit in 2020, my racial justice collective applied our principles of care and justice to Covid-19 safety. We pivoted meetings and gatherings online to Zoom, made use of its breakout rooms for one-on-one debriefs, the chat box for running insights and snark, and the emoji feature for added interpersonal expressiveness. As we learned new ways to build community, it made us more inclusive: Folks who otherwise had barriers to attending in-person—whether that be due to illness and disability or just being out-of-town—could now attend remotely. When gatherings needed to be in-person, like the summer 2020 protests for George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, we still prioritized Covid-19 precautions. Actions either followed traditional modes of large gatherings but required (and provided) masks, or were smaller so that activists could maintain physical distance. For those who couldn’t participate safely due to Covid-19 or physical disability, remote action was possible, such as handling back-end prep work or coordinating check-ins.
These community care practices remain important even during periods of low community transmission—they make spaces accessible to all.
We Must Hold Ourselves Accountable
Five years into the pandemic, even progressive activist groups have moved away from these lessons. Many no longer require masks at meetings and gatherings, or prioritize online options. This leaves each of us to fend for ourselves individually, abandoning the principles of collective care and disability justice—from access intimacy to “we keep us safe”—that had made such in-roads in our communities. If we cannot collectively learn from this “mass disabling event” of our lifetime, when will we? And if progressive activist groups whose common mission it is to make a world free from oppression—where caring for one another is the dominant ethos—ditch pandemic precautions, what hope is there?
To be sure, we still need to push institutions at the local and federal levels to make available personal protective equipment and resources for frontline workers, better access to healthcare, more research on Long Covid and other underfunded chronic conditions such as myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS). These actions would certainly help support the many biomedical doctors who toil tirelessly for treatments despite biomedicine’s limited approaches to chronic illness, as well as the Chinese medicine and other non-biomedicine doctors, not to mention the patient advocacy groups, who have arguably carried the bulk of the care and treatment for Long Covid sufferers.
I believe we have the most control over our small communities of care. Covid-19 laid bare our fragile health systems and the necessity of caring for one another—and for a time many of us heeded that call. Let us renew our attention to keeping each other safe, supporting the most vulnerable among us, and preventing more mass disablement. And for us activists who say we want to create better worlds, let’s model for everyone else how it’s done.
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SCOTUS’ Next Move: Taxpayer-Funded Religious Schools?
A landmark case could force taxpayers to fund religious charter schools.
Apr 02, 2025
On April 30, the U.S. Supreme Court will hear a case that could fundamentally reshape public education: Oklahoma’s controversial approval of the nation’s first religious charter school, St. Isidore of Seville Catholic Virtual Charter School. The case forces a critical question to the forefront—should taxpayers be compelled to finance religious schools while having no authority to regulate them?
The court’s decision could continue a pattern of rulings that have chipped away at the traditional separation between church and state, transforming the landscape of public education and public funding. If the justices side with St. Isidore, the ruling could mark a turning point in American schooling—one that may erode public accountability, alter funding priorities, and blur the constitutional boundaries that have long defined the relationship between religion and government.
This case builds on a series of decisions from the Roberts Court that have steadily eroded the wall between church and state. In Trinity Lutheran v. Comer, the court allowed public funds to be used for secular purposes by religious institutions. Espinozav. Montana Department of Revenue expanded this principle, ruling that states cannot exclude religious schools from publicly funded programs. And in Carson v. Makin, the court went further, mandating that state voucher programs include religious schools, arguing that exclusion constitutes discrimination against religion.
As the justices deliberate, they would do well to consider not just the legal arguments, but also the practical and moral consequences of their decision.
Chief Justice John Roberts, writing for the majority in Carson, stated, “[i]n particular, we have repeatedly held that a State violates the Free Exercise Clause when it excludes religious observers from otherwise available public benefits.” On its face, this reasoning frames the issue as one of fairness—ensuring religious entities are not treated unequally. But the deeper implications of this logic are far more radical.
As Justice Sonia Sotomayor warned in her dissent, this interpretation fundamentally redefines the Free Exercise Clause, equating a government’s refusal to fund religious institutions with unconstitutional religious discrimination. Justice Stephen Breyer took this concern a step further, pointing to the court’s own precedent to highlight the dangerous trajectory of its rulings:
We have previously found, as the majority points out, that “a neutral benefit program in which public funds flow to religious organizations through the independent choices of private benefit recipients does not offend the Establishment Clause.” We have thus concluded that a State may, consistent with the Establishment Clause, provide funding to religious schools through a general public funding program if the “government aid… reach[es] religious institutions only by way of the deliberate choices of… individual [aid] recipients.”
Breyer then underscored the significance of this distinction:
But the key word is “may.” We have never previously held what the court holds today, namely, that a State must (not may) use state funds to pay for religious education as part of a tuition program designed to ensure the provision of free statewide public school education.
Finally, he distilled the implications into a warning: “What happens once ‘may’ becomes ‘must’?”
That shift—from allowance to obligation—could force states not only to permit religious education in publicly funded programs, but to actively finance it, eroding any semblance of neutrality between public and religious schooling. This transformation threatens to unravel the Establishment Clause’s core protection: that government does not privilege or compel religious exercise.
Now, the Oklahoma case brings Breyer’s warning into sharp focus. The petitioners are asking the court to declare that charter schools are not state actors—meaning they would be free from public accountability and regulations, including those related to discrimination or special education. At the same time, they argue that public funds must be made available to religious charters. The implications of such a ruling could reverberate across the country, reshaping education in profound and troubling ways.
The May-to-Must Transformation and Its Far-Reaching Consequences
If the Court sides with St. Isidore, the ripple effects could be seismic, triggering a wave of religious charter school applications and fundamentally altering the landscape of public education. Here’s how:
- A Surge in Religious Charter Schools
Religious institutions, particularly those struggling to sustain traditional parochial schools, would have a financial lifeline. Charter subsidies, which often surpass voucher amounts, would incentivize religious organizations to enter the charter school market. For years, leaders in some religious communities have sought public funding to buoy their schools, and a decision in favor of St. Isidore could provide the legal green light. The result? A proliferation of religious charters, funded by taxpayers but largely free from public oversight.
- Erosion of Protections for Students with Disabilities
The implications for students with disabilities are especially concerning. Under the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act’s implementing regulations, a student with disabilities who is “placed in or referred to a private school or facility by a public agency…[h]as all of the rights of a child with a disability who is served by a public agency.” Yet, a ruling in favor of St. Isidore risks undermining these guarantees by creating a loophole for private religious charters to skirt IDEA’s requirements.
This concern is not just theoretical. As I’ve argued elsewhere, the hybrid nature of charter schools already complicates questions of accountability and state action, particularly when it comes to safeguarding student rights. Allowing religious charters to operate free from IDEA’s obligations would further erode the fragile legal protections students with disabilities rely on—protections that are already too often disregarded in practice.
- Undermining Public Health and Safety Policies
The pandemic underscored the challenges of balancing public health mandates with constitutional protections for religious freedom. In 2020, a federal judge in Kentucky struck down the state’s attempt to close religious schools during a Covid-19 spike, even as public and secular private schools complied. Extending public funding to religious charters could further erode the state’s ability to enforce neutral regulations, from health measures to curriculum standards. Such decisions privilege religious institutions over secular ones, creating a patchwork of inconsistent rules that could undermine public safety and equity.
Toward Transparency and Accountability
Can these challenges be mitigated? Some experts argue for stricter regulations to preserve the public nature of charter schools. Bruce Baker, a professor of education finance, suggests limiting charter authorization to government agencies and requiring boards and employees to be public officials. Such reforms could ensure that charters remain accountable to taxpayers and subject to the same constitutional constraints as public schools.
Other scholars, like Preston Green and Suzanne Eckes, propose requiring religious charters to forgo certain exemptions if they wish to receive public funding. Specifically, they recommend restructuring charter school boards as government-created and controlled entities to ensure they are unequivocally recognized as state actors subject to constitutional obligations. For example, this would require religious charters to comply fully with anti-discrimination laws and other public mandates, maintaining the balance between religious freedom and public accountability.
The Larger Threat to Public Education
Even with these potential safeguards, the broader implications are sobering. If the court rules in favor of religious charters, states will face difficult choices: increase taxes to fund an expanding universe of religious and secular schools, divert money away from public schools, or create new bureaucracies to regulate religious institutions. Taxpayers could find themselves funding schools tied to a bewildering array of faiths, from mainstream denominations to fringe sects.
As the justices deliberate, they would do well to consider not just the legal arguments, but also the practical and moral consequences of their decision. What happens to a society when its public institutions are splintered along religious lines? And what happens to the students and families who depend on those institutions for equity, opportunity, and inclusion?
The answers to these questions will shape the future of American education—and the values we choose to uphold.
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