When it came time for residents and staff at the New York Avenue homeless shelter in northeast Washington, D.C., to receive their first doses of Moderna's Covid-19 vaccine, David Durham, who’s lived at the men’s shelter for three years, was scared.
Like many at the shelter, he’d been bombarded by vaccine misinformation: Neighborhood talk and rumors turned into elaborate conspiracy theories, many of which played into the mistrust that homeless people already have of government services.
But he got the shot.
“I’ve heard so many conspiracy theories, like they’re putting a chip in you, that they’re going to inject some sort of liquid in you, that you’re going to be a guinea pig,” said Durham, a 34-year-old D.C. native. “But I said, ‘You know what, I have to take it upon myself to lead by example.’”
Across the country, many cities and major urban centers have begun the work of vaccinating homeless individuals housed within their shelter systems, but few municipalities have ventured into the streets where the matter is compounded by mistrust, logistical hurdles and limited resources.
The newly authorized Johnson & Johnson vaccine, however, has provided a timely solution for cities that have been struggling to administer the two previously available vaccines to their sheltered homeless, and especially their unsheltered homeless, who are more transient and at increased risk amid the pandemic.
So far, their methods have been as varied as their preparedness.
In Washington, city officials have implemented a multi-agency strategy for vaccinating homeless individuals regardless of age or condition, but have mostly refrained from vaccinating those who are living on the street. Durham was one of the first within his shelter to receive the vaccine, and then became a peer educator, one of about two dozen currently or previously homeless individuals tasked by the city with educating other homeless individuals on the safety and efficacy of the different vaccines.