HomeMy WebLinkAboutCOM 0067.004 2024-2026Good afternoon Council. My name is Charis, Founder and Executive Director of
Humanity Hale.
Our organization is dedicated to preventative care through trauma support, giving
our'6pio the tools to navigate their emotions and break the cycles of pain that
plague our community.
This year, I was honored to receive the Excellence in Parenting Award in West
Hawaii and the Outstanding Advocate for Children and Youth Award from
Governor Josh Green for my work with underserved and undervalued youth. But
those accolades come with the reality of sacrifice. I've worked three jobs to
self -fund Humanity Hale because, as many grassroots organizations know,
getting grant money can take years —if we're even considered.
I stand here not only for myself, but for others like Helen Vailu'u, tirelessly
working against domestic violence without funding, or lopa Maunakea, who's
spent 20 years serving this community alone, only recently gaining recognition.
Hundreds of grassroots organizations face the same challenges, while year after
year, council grants go to the same organizations, receiving millions, while
homelessness on this island continues to rise.
The numbers you hear in reports are not reflective of reality. Homeless
individuals are counted by the same organizations receiving funding, allowing
them to claim progress while the truth remains painfully clear: our shelters are
overwhelmed, unsafe, and failing. These are spaces where people are being
raped, murdered, or overdosing —spaces meant to offer rehabilitation but instead
perpetuate harm. Where is the accountability for the black mold, maggots, and
neglect that plague these facilities?
I implore you to visit the places you fund. On the west side, we have only one
homeless shelter, and if you ask the people on the streets, they'll tell you they
feel so unsafe there, they would rather sleep on concrete.
The Housing First model says, "Come as you are!" But what does that mean
when the shelters we create are riddled with violence and despair? Instead of
rehabilitating people and addressing the core of their trauma, we offer subpar
solutions that house suffering, not hope. This model has failed us. It has created
only a small fraction of permanent housing solutions for our homeless population.
Yet, because it receives millions in federal funding each year, we turn a blind eye.
When money becomes your God, you lose sight of the real issues. This
desensitized, heartless approach is not just a failure of policy —it's a failure of
humanity. It is failing our people and it is failing this community.
On March 1 st of this year, I was invited by Sharon Hirota from the Office of
Housing and Community Development (OHCD) to pitch my transitional housing
plan in a private meeting. This meeting was not only irregular —it was a direct
overstep of OHCD's policies and procedures, making it an illegal act. For reasons
that remain unclear, Paul Norman, a community peer from Neighborhood Place
of Puna with no ties to county funding, was also invited to this meeting.
During that meeting, I poured my heart out, sharing everything I had worked
tirelessly to develop —my comprehensive transitional housing plan to address the
needs of our keiki aging out of foster care and at risk of homelessness. I was
even asked to hand over my detailed plan document. After months of silence, I
followed up with Sharon Hirota on May 9th to ask why this meeting took place if
they had no intention of helping me and why Paul Norman was present.
Her response was a rehearsed deflection: "Any and all information shared with
the County is held in strict confidence and will not be shared. The County
continues to advocate for funding opportunities to address the specific needs of
our keiki. As of today, no specific funding has been identified, but we have not
given up."
-Yet, only a few months later, Paul Norman was awarded nearly $400,000 for his
Anchor Point Youth Program, which claims to provide support to transitional -aged
youth experiencing homelessness. This was a betrayal of trust and a theft of my
intellectual property. That meeting was nothing more than a setup —a calculated
move to take my ideas, hand them to her cohort, and shut me out of the process
entirely.
This blatant misuse of power and resources is part of a larger pattern of nepotism
within OHCD, where friends and family are prioritized over merit and true
solutions. This isn't just unethical —it's a direct attack on the grassroots
organizations doing the real work in this community.
The funding they secured under false pretenses rightfully belongs to me and my
organization, Humanity Hale. I have the evidence to prove this, and I am
prepared to take legal action to hold them accountable.
We cannot allow this kind of corruption to continue while the needs of our keiki
and our community are ignored.
Meanwhile, the most vulnerable among us —children aging out of foster
care —are left to face an uncertain future. These children, many of whom I work
with in my trauma support programs, are terrified of becoming homeless. They
come to me overwhelmed with anxiety, depression, and self -harm, knowing there
is no safety net for them.
We have the opportunity to stop this cycle before it begins. But we cannot keep
pouring millions into flawed models while ignoring the solutions that truly address
the root causes of homelessness and trauma.
I have sat in these community, alliance, and partner meetings —meetings that are
supposed to bring the community together to fight homelessness. Yet, every time
I ask the same question: Why do we keep talking in circles? What are the action
steps? The same is true for Bridging the Gap (BTG).
We continue to gather, only to hear how the same organizations that receive
government funding year after year might use it for one project or another. These
alliances, which you even have to pay to join, quickly reveal their true purpose:
they're not about helping grassroots organizations or solving homelessness.
Instead, they're about securing points to boost eligibility for federal grants.
These meetings aren't designed to foster collaboration or support innovation.
They're a front —a way to protect their funding streams and uphold the status
quo. Worse, they use these spaces to steal intellectual property from genuine
grassroots leaders, handing it off to crony organizations that serve their own
interests.
A small, insular group has created a system where only their large organizations
benefit, while others are deliberately excluded. This isn't just unethical —it's a
betrayal of the very communities they claim to serve.
I've developed a comprehensive transitional housing plan, including a 10-acre
farm with four homes ready for purchase for $550,000. This space could house
6-8 children immediately, and with an additional $350,000, we could build 16
more homes for 24 foster youth. This isn't just a plan; it's a solution to stop
homelessness before it starts.
Yet, when I approached the Office of Housing and Community Development in
good faith, they undermined my efforts.
After months of silence, my intellectual property was used to fund another
program, while I was left empty-handed.
This isn't just my fight. It's a fight for every grassroots organization and
community member who is tired of being overlooked. Nepotism and cronyism
have plagued our system for decades, and it's time for change.
I ask you: How can we build a better future when we refuse to support new
ideas? If given the resources, Humanity Hale could make homelessness for
children a thing of the past. It's time to redirect funds to solutions that work and to
people who truly care.
I'm seeking legal counsel, and I stand with countless grassroots organizations,
the media, and, most importantly, the people. We are done being ignored. It's
time for this council to put its trust —and its money —into real change.
Thank you,
Charis Higginson,
Founder/Executive Director
Humanity Hale
808-990-2892