Autism, Homelessness, and the Safety Net We Still Don’t Have
When I first started working on the streets of New York City and New Jersey, I was 24. I didn't have kids. I knew almost nothing about autism—especially how overwhelming noise, bright lights, and chaos could be for someone with sensory sensitivities.
Then my daughter was born, and everything changed.
From early on, it was clear her experience of the world was different. She taught herself to read at three. She can recall where she was the first time she heard a random sound and who was with her. Her artistic ability is beyond anything I could dream of. She's brilliant.
But she's also misunderstood. Crowds, loud noises, and disorder overwhelm her. The difference is—she has support. My wife, a former nurse, and I have access to resources, a stable home, and a school that sees her for who she is. She's proud to be neurodivergent. She doesn't have to mask or justify her behavior just to fit in.
Too many people with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) who are experiencing homelessness aren't so lucky.
Research has shown that about 18% of adults experiencing homelessness meet the criteria for ASD, compared to just 1–2% of the general population. What's more, children with autism whose families live in low-income neighborhoods, such as the Bronx, where the poverty rate is 26% (and where City Relief serves every Saturday), are less likely to be diagnosed and receive intervention than children living in more affluent communities.
The world isn't built for people with autism spectrum disorder—especially those living in poverty. Without early diagnosis, support, or family safety nets, many autistic individuals struggle in school, can't access services, and are pushed into systems that don’t accommodate their needs.
Now imagine being autistic in a crowded shelter—bright lights, constant noise, zero privacy. For someone with sensory sensitivities or executive functioning challenges, that's not just difficult—it's impossible. Services often require forms, punctuality, phone access, clear self-advocacy—all things autistic people may struggle with, especially under stress.
Meltdowns are mistaken for aggression. Shutdowns for disinterest. Stimming is labeled as "odd behavior" instead of recognized as a coping mechanism, and as a result, neurodivergent people are often turned away or pushed out of the very systems designed to help.
This isn't about bad intentions—it's about bad design. I'll say it again: people don’t choose to sleep in the streets, they choose not to sleep in shelters!
We need trauma-informed, neurodiversity-affirming systems: trained providers, low-sensory environments, and flexible approaches to support. We need to stop expecting autistic people to fit the mold—and instead reshape the mold to meet real human needs.
My daughter has a chance because she's seen and supported in an environment that is safe and consistent. That should be the norm, not the exception.
We can build a world where every neurodivergent person—housed or unhoused—has that same chance.
With Gratitude,
Josiah Haken
City Relief, CEO
