Indy homelessness keeps rising in 2025 — but not for veterans. 4 takeaways from new data
The newly released 2025 point-in-time count — a nationwide census held each January to provide a single-night snapshot of homelessness — found that 1,815 people were experiencing homelessness in Marion County at the beginning of this year.
This is only the third year since 2010 in which the countywide total exceeded 1,800 people. The 2025 figure is a 7% increase from last year and the highest tally since 2021, when Indianapolis reported a 15-year high of 1,928 people experiencing homelessness.
Indy's rising homeless population coincides with record-high homelessness across the United States. Despite the overall increase, significant reductions in veteran homelessness in Indianapolis and the U.S. at large hold lessons for how to help other groups, advocates say.
Here are four key takeaways from the 2025 homelessness count:
This year's increases were driven by rising homelessness among some of Indianapolis' most vulnerable groups.
The number of residents facing chronic homelessness, a subgroup including people with health issues who have been homeless for more than a year, increased 24% from last year to roughly 400 people.
More families with children are homeless, too, making up more than a quarter of the total homeless population. In 2025, 316 children under 18 years old were experiencing homelessness, a 14% increase from last year.
"We're seeing more families sleeping in vehicles," Andrew Neal, leader of the youth social services organization Outreach Indiana, told IndyStar. "We're seeing more families who are homeless and trying to get access to shelters."
The data also shows that Black residents are increasingly likely to end up homeless in Marion County, marking the failure of a 2023 citywide goal to effectively eliminate racial disparities in homelessness by this year.
Of the total homeless population, more than 1,000 people identified as Black. This means that while nearly 30% of Marion County residents are Black, roughly 56% of the county's homeless residents are Black.
While homelessness increased overall, one vulnerable group continues to make progress: veterans.
The number of veterans experiencing homelessness fell to 125 people — a 26% decrease from last year. Just 10 years ago that figure was more than three times higher, when nearly 400 veterans were experiencing homelessness in 2015.
The local decline in veteran homelessness is part of a record-breaking drop across the U.S. since 2010, when the federal government began a focused effort to end homelessness among veterans. Organizations like Helping Veterans and Families in downtown Indianapolis have benefited from more funding and an influx of specialized housing vouchers that help veterans pay rent.
"In its simplest form, the solution to homelessness is housing with supportive services," HVAF CEO Emmy Hildebrand said. "That's what we do here at HVAF every day."
HVAF fire: How Indianapolis veteran homeless housing damaged in fires last year is being rebuilt
The organization provides more than 100 temporary beds where veterans typically stay for six to nine months, Hildebrand said. Because more than 80% of HVAF's clients report mental health or substance abuse issues, case managers connect veterans with health care, employment opportunities and government benefits while they're staying in those beds.
"We want to make sure we're addressing every possible barrier to self-sufficiency when they're present here so they're in the best position to be successful when they leave," Hildebrand said.
HVAF also sends rental assistance to about 500 families a year to ensure they remain stably housed, Hildebrand said. In total, their work helped more than 1,300 veterans in 2024.
About eight in 10 people experiencing homelessness in Indianapolis were sleeping in emergency shelter beds or transitional housing units during the frigid January count. The city is taking the lead on an ambitious plan to move the remaining people who are habitually unsheltered — sleeping on the street, in vehicles or in abandoned buildings — into housing by next summer.
Through the new program Streets to Home Indy, Indianapolis aims to end unsheltered and chronic homelessness by 2028 for the quarter of homeless residents who fall into those two distinct but overlapping categories. The first phase of that plan is to offer temporary or permanent beds to roughly 350 people. Although about 330 were counted as unsheltered this January, the number typically increases during warmer months, advocates say.
"(Homelessness) is something that we have been managing, but we really want to bring these targeted investments to the table to essentially end chronic homelessness as we know it in Indianapolis today," Aryn Schounce, a senior policy adviser on homelessness for Mayor Joe Hogsett, said in June when the program was announced.
Implementing the plan will be a heavy lift. City employees will partner with street outreach teams from local nonprofits like Horizon House to visit well-known encampments and direct residents to open housing units. The city says it will clean up and shut down camps only after everyone has been housed or has left on their own.
Streets to Home Indy is a key piece of Marion County's new Community Plan to End Homelessness, along with a low-barrier shelter that will offer 150 emergency beds for families, couples and individuals experiencing homelessness starting in 2027.
The Department of Housing and Urban Development won't release the 2025 point-in-time count results until the end of this year, but the most recent data shows that homelessness is rising even faster across the U.S. than in Indianapolis.
The nationwide 2024 point-in-time count found that more than 770,000 people were experiencing homelessness in the U.S., the largest number on record and an 18% increase from 2023. The numbers reflect the rapid rise in housing costs, the expiration of pandemic-era rental assistance and an increasing number of migrants seeking asylum, according to the Bipartisan Policy Center, a Washington think tank.
Although rental costs have soared particularly in denser coastal cities, prices have jumped in Indianapolis too. One in four renting households in Indianapolis spent at least half of their income on rent in 2023, according to census data.
The price squeeze shows up in the fact that more than 2,000 evictions are filed each month in Marion County courts, according to the Eviction Lab at Princeton University.
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Hamilton Spectator
2 days ago
- Hamilton Spectator
PHOTO ESSAY: Many Californians lack safe tap water and don't trust cleanup efforts
THERMAL, Calif. (AP) — Agustin and Ricarda Toledo loaded eight empty 5-gallon jugs onto their truck and drove to a water store some 14 miles from their Southern California home, just as they've done almost weekly for years. The couple, originally from Mexico, planned to make dozens of chicken tamales for their five children and 13 grandchildren that weekend, and the limited flow of clean, safe water from their home filter wouldn't suffice. 'We can't consume the water; we can't use it' to drink or cook, said Ricarda, a retired farmworker whose family lives in and co-owns a mobile home park, speaking in Spanish. 'We'd like to have potable water.' In the agriculturally rich Eastern Coachella Valley , water is a source of worry. What flows from many people's taps contains health-damaging arsenic, and in areas where the issue has been resolved, distrust about the tap water lingers. Many rely on water donations or drive miles to fill water jugs and buy packs of bottles. Residents here are mostly low-income Latino and Indigenous farmworkers whose only affordable housing options are mobile home parks served by small, outdated systems more likely to violate drinking water rules . Luz Gallegos, executive director of Training Occupational Development Educating Communities, or TODEC, an immigrant and farmworker justice group, said people live in places with contaminated water because they have no other choice. 'Our community right now is not thinking of prevention. Our community is thinking of survival,' Gallegos said. More than a decade after California legislatively recognized that all residents have the right to clean water, more than 878,000 people were connected to failing water systems, many of which can increase their risk of cancer or other serious health issues, according to 2024 state data, the last year available. The Environmental Protection Agency has been working with a local nonprofit to restore safe drinking water to some Eastern Coachella residents. Last year, the agency announced that more than 900 people could safely drink and cook with tap water again. Distrust of tap water is widespread Many still fear the tap — an issue not unique to the area. Flint, Michigan's water crisis that began in 2014 eroded public trust of government and tap water. Even after high levels of lead were reduced to well below a state threshold, many residents still won't drink or cook with it . It's a distrust most common among non-white populations, research shows. A recent study on drinking water behaviors and perceptions in Evanston, Illinois, a suburban city north of Chicago, found, in part, that people who drank mostly bottled water were more likely to be Black, Indigenous or other people of color. Compared with white respondents, they were more than three times more likely to distrust tap water. The finding that minority groups in Evanston were more likely to distrust tap water was 'remarkably consistent' with research elsewhere, said Sera Young, a study co-author and co-director at the Center for Water Research at Northwestern University. 'It's a global phenomenon,' Young said. Respondents' main concern was contamination. A lack of trust in government and negative experiences with water were among other reasons. 'People who thought that they had been harmed by their water in the past were more likely to think they would be harmed by the water in future,' Young said. That's true for Martha. For 18 years, she and her husband lived in the Eastern Coachella Valley's Oasis Mobile Home Park, where the EPA found high levels of naturally occurring arsenic in the tap water in 2019. Martha, who is in the country illegally and spoke under the condition that only her middle name be used, said the water sometimes smelled like rotten eggs. An itchy rash would sometimes break out over her body when she showered, and her hair would fall off in clumps. She thinks the water was to blame. Martha and her family now live in a new place and have been told the tap water is safe to consume. 'We don't trust it,' Martha said. They buy water at stores or pick up bottled water at one of TODEC's offices, where plastic-wrapped packs cram a closet. The group provides free water to many of the area's residents and organizes know-your-rights workshops in farm fields, among other things. Perceptions can cause cascading effects Anisha Patel, a pediatrics professor at Stanford University who has studied drinking water access and tap water perceptions for years, said immigrants from countries with unsafe tap water can also bring those perceptions here and low-income families are more likely to distrust the tap because they may live in older homes. These perceptions can have significant negative impacts. People are more likely to consume sugary drinks, eat out and spend limited money on bottled water — upward of 10% of their household income, said Patel. Microplastics found in containers like bottled water, researchers are learning, may be harmful. Then there's the environmental impacts — single-use bottled beverages create enormous waste. Convincing people to drink from the tap is not easy, but experts have some recommendations based on their research findings. That includes government funding to improve plumbing in people's homes and investing in community-trusted groups to implement water testing programs and educational campaigns, said Silvia R. González, co-director of research at the UCLA Latino Politics and Policy Institute who lead a study in 2023 exploring drinking water distrust in Latino communities. 'It's been something that we've been trying to understand for the past 10, 15 years now, and I don't think we're closer to solving the issue, but we definitely see similarities across different communities,' especially among immigrant, Spanish-speaking and other non-English-speaking groups, González said. Back in the California desert, water jugs and stacked packs of bottled water are a common sight inside and outside homes. The kitchen in Virgilio Galarza Rodriguez's mobile home is cramped by bottled water — boxes and shrink-wrapped packs piled four high, a drinking water dispenser topped by a 5-gallon (19-liter) jug with a spare nearby and more loose bottles scattered around. The Galarzas, raising three boys, drank and cooked with tap water 16 years before a 2021 inspection by the EPA revealed arsenic at levels more than six times the federal limit. Despite now having filters and regular water tests, the family still worries. 'They tell us it's safe to drink, but we don't really trust it,' Galarza said, speaking in Spanish. ___ The Associated Press receives support from the Walton Family Foundation for coverage of water and environmental policy. The AP is solely responsible for all content. For all of AP's environmental coverage, visit
Chicago Tribune
2 days ago
- Chicago Tribune
How an ex-football player is tackling health issues — and inspiring hope — on the West Side through running
If you've been wanting to get active but don't have the group to do it with, look no further. The Peace Runners have you covered. 'Seeing people hit their ultimate goals are the benefits of what running can provide,' Peace Runners 773 Executive Director Jackie Hoffman said. 'It's not about how fast you can (run), as long as we can get through that finish line. That's the thing we care about as an organization, and I think that's powerful.' Peace Runners 773 is a nonprofit running club located on the West Side that offers free runs and workouts for anyone interested. Whether you are a trained runner, looking for a late-summer body transformation or want to meet like-minded people, the group can provide all of the above. The club's goal is to 'tackle real community issues such as obesity, low life expectancy and mental health.' Hoffman, 35, always has been active. After growing up on the West Side and playing football and basketball at Curie, he played on the offensive line at College of DuPage and Bethune-Cookman in Daytona Beach, Fla., later receiving a tryout with the Chicago Bears. He said his football career helped show him what Chicago can be. 'That was the experience and exposure space for me to go see life and go to see every other place,' Hoffman said. '(When I came) back home, I'm like, dang, this community that I grew up in is not the place that everybody wants to be.' Hoffman said his reason for founding Peace Runners comes back to his mother. During the pandemic, she was on the phone with a doctor who informed his mother, 62 at the time, that the average life expectancy on the West Side was only 66 and the number varies with area codes. His mother dealt with high blood pressure, prediabetes and obesity, Hoffman said. 'That's the moment where it hit me,' he said. 'To me (my mom) is Superwoman. For the first time, (I saw) that she had a weakness, (that) this is a bad thing.' Hoffman challenged his mom to walk a mile a day. His push turned into 60 lost pounds, a decrease in medication and increased time between doctor visits. After that, Hoffman wondered what he could do for others on the West Side. 'Everybody (thinks) that gun violence is how people pass away in these intersecting communities, but it's this secret killer (of bad health) that is taking us away,' Hoffman said. 'We normalize somebody that's 60 years old dying. On the behalf of my mom, no, that's not happening.' From there, Peace Runners was born. The Peace Runners symbol is a peace sign with wings and the 773 area code on both sides. It represents the group's goals: violence prevention and mental health security. 'The biggest thing is when people see (a group of) Black or brown people, (I wonder) what the first image of that (is),' Hoffman said. 'When people see us and see those wings, they know it's the Peace Runners.' Participants have covered more than 50,000 miles all over the globe. Hoffman and other Peace Runners have hit the streets in cities such as Tokyo, Sydney and Boston. 'If I go to Sydney or Tokyo and run 26.2 miles with 'Peace Runners' on my chest, everybody understands the mission of why I'm running this race,' Hoffman said. 'I'm shedding light on the disinvestment in our community. It's something we don't deserve. It's time for changes to happen so we can push forward and grow as a community.' The club wants members to experience a family-like feeling. Peace Runners is centered in Garfield Park, which the club calls an 'inspiring backdrop for individual transformation.' One way the group checks in with members is with the #BigSteppaWednesday hashtag, whereby runners post themselves running or exercising along with their progress on social media. 'Love for us isn't something that you have to earn,' Hoffman said. 'Love is (where) we go meet you where you're at and greet you with love. We understand that on a daily basis, people aren't meeting you with that.' Members feel the love from the Peace Runners leaders. 'I was sick a little bit in the hospital and called (Hoffman) to come to the hospital to see me and (they) only have family members coming in,' track coach Brendan Gilbert, 36, said. 'We show up to not only this, we come to people's work events, we go to birthday parties and we meet each other's families, so it's nice.' Added member Sarah Lyons, 36: 'I always thought I was a solo runner, (but) it's so much better to run with people who (are) on the same page and have the same goals, and Peace Runners does a great job of bringing everyone.' Those with minimal running experience should feel welcome in Peace Runners' Couch to 5K program, which helps transform non-runners into 3-mile form. Running a 5K can appear daunting but is easier than it sounds. 'It's basically getting the person who has not run in their entire life the nutrition, the proper techniques and tools to get them moving,' said Nicole Midderhoff, 42, the group's community events and engagement manager. 'To be able to run your first 5K, that's big.' On June 14, the Peace Runners held their Juneteenth Wellness 5K run on the West Side. More than 520 people showed up. Hoffman shared what it means to him for people of color to come together in a run. 'After learning about Juneteenth, (we said) let's do something positive in the community,' Hoffman said. 'It was only 20 people (the first time), but to go from 20 to 520 is insane. 'In broader conversations about community, people have to see people that look like them in the space and see positive things for others to be positive. When you see 500 people running (together), it changes the mind and inspires and provides a feeling of hope.' If there is a Peace Runners sighting, the group asks spectators to throw up a peace sign. 'Or better yet, JOIN US!' as their website states. 'The Peace Runners is the best place in the world, not just Chicago,' Hoffman said. 'To be inspired and loved, that's what we're about, so tell them to pull up to Peace Runners.'
Axios
3 days ago
- Axios
Where it costs the most to give birth
The average total in-network cost of giving birth in the U.S. is about $15,200 for vaginal deliveries and $19,300 for C-sections, per data from FAIR Health, a national independent nonprofit. By the numbers: For vaginal deliveries, Alaska has the highest average cost (about $29,200), followed by New York and New Jersey (both about $21,800). Alaska also has the highest average cost for C-sections ($39,500), followed by Maine ($28,800) and Vermont ($28,700). How it works: The amounts in FAIR's Cost of Giving Birth Tracker include delivery, ultrasounds, lab work and more. They reflect total costs paid by patients and their insurance companies, as applicable. Insured patients' financial responsibilities are typically well below the total amount paid, with average out-of-pocket costs of just under $3,000 in 2018-2020, per a 2022 Peterson-KFF analysis. What they're saying: Many factors drive the differences between states, FAIR Health's Rachel Kent tells Axios, including provider training levels, local salaries and costs of living, malpractice insurance costs and insurers' bargaining power. Between the lines: Black and Hispanic people paid more out-of-pocket for maternal care than Asian and white patients with the same insurance, per a study published earlier this year in JAMA Health Forum.
