Extended Interview:

My name is Tina Walker. I also go by TNT, or “mom” on the streets, and of course my kitty, FF. I love doing art, beading, making roses out of pine cones, and foot rocks. If you ever see a foot rock, it's a rock shaped like a foot. On one side it says “When I carried you,” and on the other side it says “Footprints,” with the month, day, and year I made it, plus my initials. I make them glow in the dark and toss them out for people to find.

I also love helping people, but I’ve learned through the years that I’ve got to watch how I help. I’m a people pleaser and a caregiver, and that can get out of control if you’re not careful. It’s okay to be a caregiver, but when it gets to the point where you lose everything that has to do with you and your family, there’s a time to say no. 

At one point, I had this whole grocery store up in my tent, and that wasn’t good. It became a habit of people expecting me to have everything. I finally had to start telling people no. I don’t mind helping people out when it comes to the phone, being able to have contact with family members, their court stuff, or even getting their next of kin. If they were at my camp too many times, I’d have them give me their emergency contact, because I had a phone that worked all the time and could reach people. We've lost a lot of people, but I don’t mind helping. 

What led me to becoming homeless was when I lost my mom. My mom was murdered in 2004. I struggled with it a lot. There wasn’t a day that I didn’t talk to my mom, help her go to appointments, or help her around her place. Because of her allergies, she couldn’t do a lot, but my mom was one of my biggest things. She was at the Moose Lodge for a while and did a lot of decorating for different events and holidays. She’d go get an item, say, flowers or centerpieces, and say, “This is what I got and this is what I need!” Then I would go put it together.

One year, me, my sister, and my mom stayed up all night making Christmas presents. We had the sewing machines set up and sewed quillows, we got over 27 done between the three of us. Yeah, it was a lot of work, but it was fun to do. 

When I lost her, I lost me. Then my son was illegally taken from me, and I couldn’t fight that. I didn’t know how to fight it. I had already done everything I was asked to do. Everything was a pass. But I just lost me, and then I lost my housing. 

It was a challenge getting people to understand, because I couldn’t go to an elderly person and say, “You don’t know what it’s like.” The first thing I’d think is, “Oh my, I gotta watch those words, because back in the day, they didn’t have houses, they had to build them. They had to dig holes and fight with this and that.” So I can’t say they don’t know what it’s like for us out there, they do. They just don’t know what it’s like these days, what you have to go through now. Back then, at least you could go to sleep and get some sort of sleep. These days, you’ve got to have somebody up, making sure people are safe, because there are people out here who just don’t care, they’ll go through everything. 

I was pretty fortunate that people didn’t come and take things from me, because I helped so much and I gave respect. You get respect if you give respect. You’ve got to be just as respectful as you expect somebody to be to you. People say, “If you want to live like you’re homeless, go camping!” No, there’s a big difference. I love camping, but camping is ruffin’ it, like porta-potty type thing, and there's water around you. That’s when you’re going to a campsite. Camping on the streets, like we were at first, you couldn’t even have a blanket or a tarp up over you. 

One of the things we were asked was, “What would it take to get you out of the street?” Well, foundation, that’s what we needed. A foundation. Someplace we could put our belongings and not have to worry about them being stolen, ruined, or thrown away. Nobody was coming around to the camping sites giving people crap for doing that. We’d have people drive by and cuss at us or yell things. 

You’ve got bullying in school and having problems, what do you think you’re doing when you drive by yelling those names at us while your kids are in the car? You’re giving them the bullying act 101. Think about what you’re doing. 

We are people too. We’re not animals. Some people are down on their last leg. Some people can’t work. Some people grew up not having to do anything for themselves. 

My group was pretty good. We actually had a weekly meeting, and everybody had a chore, something to do. We never took two people out of one camp to do security. Instead, we had one person from two different camps go around at night and do perimeter checks, making sure everybody was safe so the rest of us could sleep. 

Everybody chipped in for gas for the generator. We really didn’t have to use a lot of the city’s resources because we had that generator. We worked it out to where everybody pitched in, five or six dollars in gas for seven to eight camps for a night. That would get us electricity from maybe 9 o’clock at night until almost noon the next day. We had lights at night, could charge our phones, maybe watch TV if someone had one, and even run a heater if we needed to. 

We helped each other with propane, too. Nobody could stay at your camp without the rest of us knowing they were there. If somebody was there and you weren’t, no, you got to go. If they didn’t let us know, you got to go. That way, nobody’s stuff was being taken. 

Sometimes people couldn’t make it all the way home, so it was up to us to keep an eye on their things. That’s always the biggest risk, people going in, ripping stuff up, making your place a home because they’re too lazy to build their own or take care of their own stuff. You can put a lock on a tent, but you only keep the honest out. You can’t keep the ones that aren’t honest, they’ll slice it open. What’s a little padlock going to do for a tent? It’s cloth. 

Going to the tiny homes, that was the biggest step for me to start moving forward. Everybody said, “No, that’s the FEMA camp,” and I just looked at them and said, “Look, this is what we asked for.” You’ve got so many people saying, “They’re trying to put us in the-” No, that’s not what it was. It was a foundation to get on your feet. 

You can’t get that big thing, a place to live, without taking care of the little things first. You can’t do it without your ID, your Social Security, your income, or a mailing address. You can’t do it without any of that. 

They got me this place. It’s just a stepping stone, and I’ve got to look at it that way. One of the things that makes it hard for people is that you can’t say no to where they put you or where they find a place for you. You can’t say no, or you just have to start all over. That’s basically what we were told. But if you want people not to go backwards, that’s not the way to do it. 

I’ll tell you, the worst thing to have is a good friend walk out of your life, not for good, but to say, “Don’t write me, don’t call me, don’t even come to my house.” That hurts. That hurts bad. And I’ve got to experience it. I used to tell everybody you only have five friends in your life, and they’re going to be your true friends no matter what, they’ll always be there. 

But that’s not true. There is a time where they’ll walk out of your life and take a step back, because they’re so tired of watching you go through whatever it is you’re going through for so long, and you’re not doing anything to change it. They’ll walk away, but they won’t leave you. But your mind isn’t thinking that when it happens, so you feel it. You know they’re a good friend if they hurt you here. That’s a friend you know you cannot lose, and don’t want to lose. When he walked out of my life, it was really hard. I felt like my heart had just been torn. But he’s still there. 

At first, I was so angry that he walked out. Then I said, “I know you didn’t walk out for good. And boy, you made me wake up to see something that I didn’t realize myself.” That is a friend, one who will walk out when you need to change something, and they just can’t continue to watch you go through it.