Street-teens documentary sheds light on The Ave

E-mail this article Print this article

The Ave has changed a lot since Maria Lovett made a film here six years ago, documenting the lives of the homeless teens who gravitate to the streets of the University District.

Back then she was fresh out of school, working for Americorps, with a camera attached to her shoulder and the trust of eight street kids who allowed her intimate access into their turbulent lives.

Lovett's film, "Kids on the Ave," won awards, has been acquired by libraries and is used by organizations involved in homelessness issues.

But tonight is the film's first public showing in Seattle. It reveals uncomfortable truths about the sight that has for years been emblematic of The Ave and other university areas across the country: Somehow, right in front of us, 14-year-olds are out on the street, begging for change and sleeping in doorways.

Kids on the Ave The documentary will be shown at 7 tonight at The Little Theatre, 610 19th Ave. E. on Capitol Hill. The showing is sponsored by the University Street Ministries.

Lovett lives in New York City, working as a producer with the Red Hot Organization, a nonprofit AIDS-benefit production company, teaching media-arts workshops to homeless youth and making films.

But she remembers making "Kids on the Ave" as one of the most educational experiences in her life.

"The camera became an extension of my body," Lovett says. "The kids got to know me, and gave my project their street blessing. They taught me so much, much more than my film is going to teach anyone else."

She established trust with the kids by always respecting their privacy when they wanted to talk about something personal off camera.

"Do you always have to hear the details of someone's problems?' Lovett asked. "Can't we just trust that this is the problem: This is the United States of America and we have 13-year-olds out on the streets, and that's not acceptable."

A lot has changed since Lovett made "Kids on the Ave," says Kristine Cunningham, director of University Street Ministries, who started the job around the time Lovett was wrapping up her film.

Street kids then

Back then, she would see about 150 kids a night at the local church teen feed. They came from all over the country to the mecca that was Seattle's U District, with its cache of services specifically for homeless youth and a reputation as a safe place.

Back then the street kids seemed younger, more innocent, Cunningham says. They had formed a close-knit community of street families. They looked out for one another, shared squats in abandoned buildings together.

Now, on any given day there are 70 or 80 homeless youths living, sleeping, eating and begging on The Ave, she says. They are older now, and they are still there for the same reasons as six years ago - abuse, neglect, drug addiction, mental illness - but The Ave has changed around them.

Seattle is no longer a mecca, says Cunningham. Cities across the nation have developed their own youth-specific resources, so kids can stay where they are. Numbers are down sharply at nightly teen feeds.

Rents continue to rise and space is at a premium, so the buildings and hidden nooks that were once squats for The Ave's kids are being torn down and built up new. U District shelter capacity has not increased. And with fewer squats, kids have to be pretty resourceful to find a place to sleep, says Cunningham, adding that they're more likely to engage in sex or illegal activities in exchange for a place to stay.

Also, The Ave's business owners are more inclined now to enforce the anti-loitering laws.

And Cunningham thinks the current Kids on The Ave have lost a sense of street community.

"There used to be a real connection where people would look out for each other," Cunningham says.

Street kids today

But no matter how much has changed, the kids retain some similarities.

Nick Novota is 20, with a freckled baby face, light-blue eyes and a pack the size of a file cabinet on his back. He has spent the past eight years with no real home, but a phone number for his brother in Denver burns a hole in his pocket.

Every day he beats a path from one shelter to another, from one teen feed to another, from the Denny's where he can spend two hours nursing a Coke until he gets kicked out by the manager, to a friend's couch, to a University of Washington library where he checks his e-mail and waits for the shelters to open.

"The Ave is slowly starting to fall apart," he says, while sitting in the basement of University Congregational United Church of Christ as he fills out a job application for Taco Del Mar.

"(The Ave) used to be a cool place," he says, "but now that Wizards is gone, a lot of people will be leaving."

Wizards of the Coast recently closed its gaming center on University Way, which had been a gathering place for young people.

Nick sleeps in doorways and at friends' houses. Lately he's been thinking about getting out of this life, maybe going to Denver to see his brother.

"Probably lately he's been busy," Nick says, "because I haven't heard from him in a while."

Outside the church, Billy Barrett, 18, is curled up in a sleeping bag next to Timmy, 20. This is her first night back on the street after getting kicked out of an apartment where she was crashing.

"The boot," Timmy says. "The famous boot. Everyone here's met the boot."

Billy has been on her own for four years. Every day, she walks around and around, waiting to sleep. "It's my home," she says. "I know everyone."

Lovett hasn't come to any conclusions about young people and homelessness since making "Kids on The Ave." Some of the eight kids in Lovett's film are doing outreach work to other homeless youths. One got inspired by the film to pick up a camera and works for a photo lab.

"Some of them," Lovett says, "I have no idea where they are."