Autism, Developmental Disabilities, and Homelessness

His name was Wes. He was in his late forties or early fifties, living in one of New York City's largest shelters on Ward's Island. Every Friday and Saturday, he’d come to our Harlem outreach, dropped off by a city bus, which transported residents into Manhattan to look for jobs, go to appointments, or simply pass the time.

Wes was severely developmentally disabled. He was very small in stature, overly sweet, and offered hugs like a child greeting a family member. He approached strangers without any awareness of their reactions. But Ward’s Island was a tough place. While its single-floor layout made it more accessible for people with disabilities, it was also one of the few shelters that housed men convicted of sex crimes, as it wasn’t close to a school or playground. The open dorm-style layout and communal bathrooms created an environment where fights and theft were common.

One Friday another resident told us that Wes was being assaulted regularly in the shelter, but he lacked the ability to report it or fully understand what was happening to him. To make matters worse, we discovered that someone else was controlling his Social Security disability income but wasn't using it to ensure he had the essentials like food or clothing. Wes had no advocate, no real protection, and no way out.

Sadly, Wes is not alone. Studies show that about 18% of adults experiencing homelessness meet the criteria for autism, and many more have other cognitive or developmental disabilities. Yet, most shelters and social services are not designed to accommodate their unique needs. Up to one-third of homeless individuals have a cognitive impairment, and without the right support systems, they are at extreme risk of exploitation, chronic homelessness, and harm.

This issue is deeply personal for me. My daughter is neurodivergent, and I've had to come to terms with a sobering truth: if something ever happened to my wife and I, she would face a much higher risk of homelessness than the average child. That realization changed the way I see my work. If she ever found herself at one of our outreach events, what kind of experience would I want her to have?

We must do better—and we must do it now. Over the next few weeks, I'll be diving deeper into the intersection of homelessness, autism, and developmental disabilities. I hope you'll join me in learning, sharing, and advocating for real change.

With Gratitude,

Josiah Haken

City Relief, CEO