A recently unhoused child holds up the free phone her aunt got her to stay in contact. (Hollie Garrett)
I can remember the empty feeling of being disconnected from society while I was in prison. Every day it was a pressing issue to get on the pay phone. Not knowing if we would get out the cell, if there was going to be another lock down, if the phone line was going to be extra long, or if someone was even going to answer the call. Even when I got on the phone, the 15 minutes was never enough to say what needed to be said. The situation was so dire that a fight could easily break out over use of the phone. The isolation was so unbearable that I was willing to pay up to $1500 for the cheapest cell phone, just to maintain that connection. That comfort of hearing a familiar voice made the world outside feel a little closer and accessible.
I learned inside the wall that a phone is much more than a device. They are lifelines of hope, support, and the feeling of love and belonging. Now that I am no longer incarcerated, I have learned that the struggle to stay connected is not unique to those locked up. It is a challenge for many people, especially those who are living on the street. Homelessness, like incarceration, goes hand-in-hand with the digital divide—while the challenges are different, the need to connect is the same.
This brings us to the topic of free government phones, commonly referred to as “Obama Phones.” These phones were first introduced as part of the Lifeline Assistance Program, which was created under the Telecommunications Act of 1996. This program is meant to provide low-income Americans access to basic phone services. Initially distributed as landlines, the program began offering cell phones and eventually smartphones as technology advanced. For the homeless, these phones can mean the difference between thriving and slipping further into the margins of society. But maintaining these phones remains an enormous challenge.
Take Michael Wheatly, a homeless man living in San Francisco’s Tenderloin district. Michael relies on his cell phone to communicate with loved ones, fill out job applications, and look up job references. Although he owns his own Motorola, Michael rarely likes to bring it out due to fear that his own friends want to steal it from him. Instead, he uses the free phone as a safeguard, but despite his tactic to protect his line of communication, Michael admits to losing or having his phone stolen repeatedly, a consequence of his drinking and drug use. Michael tells me that the loss of his phone cuts off his ability to reach loved ones and his caseworkers, making it impossible for him to be successful.
Then there’s Christopher, who also lives in the Tenderloin streets and shares a similar story. He described how crucial having a phone is to his success. “Everything is online,” he explained. Without a phone, simple tasks like filling out applications or accessing social services become almost impossible.
“With a phone I can accomplish maybe four or five things in a day. But without it, I might get one thing done because I have to travel to these places in person,” Christopher told me. His story highlights how easy it is for a single phone theft to derail a homeless person’s day, week, or even month.
The importance of phones is not just about staying connected with family and friends, but also about survival. Phones are essential for accessing emergency services, keeping appointments with case workers, applying for jobs, and managing government aid like EBT benefits. “Without a phone,” Christopher explained, “you’re left out of the critical network of resources needed to survive.”
Yet, despite the importance of maintaining these phones, homeless people frequently lose their phones to theft, especially when forced to sleep outside. Both Michael and Christopher talked about falling asleep only to wake up with their pockets or bags run through and phones gone. This cycle of theft forces them to seek replacements constantly, either from government distributors like SafeLink or buying them directly off the streets.
I spoke with some Obama Phone distributors who distribute in San Francisco and they understand the struggle well. Two distributors identifying as O-4 and Turby Tuesday say they see the same faces return within days or weeks in need of replacement phones. O-4 says the reason is almost always theft. He says about 80% percent of his clients are homeless and return because their phones were stolen. The same sentiment was shared by phone distributors CJ and Simon, who say the same people are returning for new phones within one to two weeks. Yet these distributors continue to do their work, knowing that for each phone given out there is a chance it could help someone take their first step toward stability.
For those living on the street, like Chris and Ozzy, staying connected is about more than just convenience. It’s about maintaining a sense of control over their lives. Chris told me that having a phone is only part of the equation, he says you have to be motivated. Speaking to his motivation, I wanted to know how they kept their phone charged. Chris said you could go to the library or the BART. He says charging isn’t a problem as long as you can plan ahead. For Ozzy, he has struggled to acquire government phones because his ID and other personal items are often stolen. This cycle of losing essential documents, losing a phone, and starting over from scratch is a constant barrier for many people living on the street.
Employment caseworker Verla Morris of the Hospitality House in San Francisco knows first-hand how critical phones are for her clients.
“It reminds me of trying to fill up a cup that has a hole in it,” Verla explained when discussing how difficult it is to assist someone without reliable phone access. Many of her clients have lost multiple phones or maxed out their ability to receive new ones due to the repeated theft or loss. When clients can’t be reached, their job prospects diminish and their chances of securing stable housing or employment slip away.
Reflecting on my own experience, I realize how crucial my phone has been to my success since being released from prison. It’s been a year this October and in that time my phone has been my greatest tool. With it, I have been able to return calls, answer emails, and respond to messages promptly. Coming out, I was homeless myself and transitioned to a halfway house. I can’t imagine where I would be right now if I were not able to maintain a line of constant communication. My phone has allowed me to meet my basic needs and thrive, rather than just survive.
For those living on the street, maintaining access to a phone is a daily struggle. Without the ability to communicate, they are left disconnected from opportunities and resources that could change their lives. I would hope my story, as well as the stories of those I’ve interviewed, sheds light on how vital this issue is. Phones are not just luxuries—they are lifelines. And until everyone has the ability to stay connected, the gap between survival and success will continue to widen.
Hollie “Wali” Garrett III is a communications major at SFSU and advocate of criminal justice reform, addressing systemic issues through writing and media. He creates work that amplifies marginalized voices and explores justice and human rights.