OUR Streets: Jensine

By Paula Bard

“It makes it easier for me to be invisible.”

“Born and raised in Denver, my parents were homeless when I was born. Went to High School in Westminster, where my dad finally got custody of me when I was 14, after not knowing him forever. He beat up my mom when I was a little kid, and he went to prison. Violently beat her up with chains. Proceeded to do the same thing to me for five years after that. I made a couple of reports; nothing ever happened.

I turned 18 last December. My mom is homeless, too, she’s living in her car, up north, she drives around. My mom has a brain tumor, she’s 40. She stopped taking her meds because they were too expensive. Like $500 a bottle. She just couldn’t pay for it.

I was living down by the Greyhound station, the park. They have steam vents down there. Is it safe for you to be down here? Not alone. I play music, I’ve been playing for 10 years. I’ve taught myself everything I know. I make decent money playing. When the bars close, guess who’s still playing music?

There’s a lot of violence out here, and sometimes you have to defend yourself. The police fuck with us every night, no matter where we go.

I don’t like doing things like government assistance, I don’t want their help. I shouldn’t have to rely on society when I don’t want to be part of society. Even on an emotional level, like the expectations are hard. I’m an anarchist, dude, I used to hop trains and shit. Never had an ID. I don’t want to get one. It makes it easier for me to be invisible.” ■

Author’s Note: In the fall of 2015, just ahead of Colorado’s winter, Denver sent the full force of its police department and SWAT team to destroy five tiny homes that people “living without homes” had built north of downtown.

Something in me snapped: Denver is behaving like a bully!

Denver has more than 6,000 people without homes, and more than 3,000 trying to survive on its streets. It is an ugly business. In 2012, Denver passed an urban-camping ban making it illegal for the homeless to protect themselves with “any form of cover or protection from the elements other than clothing.” Violations can bring a $999 fine or a year in jail.

I began walking those streets where the homeless are trying to survive, photographing the faces and collecting the stories of those my city has abandoned. So began OUR Streets – stories of Denver’s unhoused residents.