The home-rental service is valued at $10bn, but near its headquarters homeless people survive in ways similar to the billionaire neighbour

Five tiny homeless encampments dot two sides of the San Francisco headquarters of Airbnb. The inhabitants appear to be outsiders in every sense. Out on the streets. Out of the city’s economic boom. Out of luck.



None of those interviewed had heard of Airbnb, though its four-storey office, a 72,000-square-foot converted warehouse, dominates this section of the SoMa district.

They did not know the home-rental service motto – “We believe in a world where all seven billion of us can belong anywhere” – was a poster child of Silicon Valley’s vaunted “sharing economy”, with more than 1 million homes listed worldwide. Or that it was valued last year at $10bn.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Airbnb’s headquarters. Photograph: Mae Ryan

They just knew that the area around the junction of Brannan and 7th streets was home, at least for now. There was a roof of sorts in the form of Interstate 80, with vehicles roaring overhead. There were nooks in the sidewalk to host their cardboard, blankets, tents and shopping carts.

San Francisco’s homeless population of 6,436 is part of a wider crisis in Silicon Valley. The technology boom is driving up rents and evictions. Airbnb is accused of reducing low-cost housing stock, but the company says 56% of San Francisco hosts use Airbnb income to help pay rent or mortgage.

Homelessness is the city’s most visible manifestation of extreme income inequality, which according to one metric is on par with Rwanda’s. It is drawing high level attention: Barack Obama’s chief of staff, Denis McDonough, joined Mayor Ed Lee with a clipboard one recent night to scour San Francisco’s streets for the biennial homeless count.

The little community dotted around Airbnb numbers around 20, an eclectic group of men and women, white and black, teenagers and pensioners. They hustle and survive, it turns out, in ways familiar to their billionaire neighbour: they seize economic opportunity, legal or otherwise, and embrace technology.

Three shared their stories.

John Pobuda, 56: ‘My phone is my most valuable possession’

Facebook Twitter Pinterest John: ‘Most people who walk by don’t even notice us half the time’. Photograph: Mae Ryan

“I’m from Eden Prairie, Minnesota. I can’t blame my childhood for anything. It was great. A lot of flowers and fruit and running around. My grandparents grew berries. I joined the army when I was 16. I was an infantry private. After leaving I thought about studying marine biology. There’s no ocean in Minnesota and I’m fascinated by it.

I took a wrong road. I have a lot of regrets. Number one is letting someone stick a needle with cocaine in my arm. That changed my whole life from then on. All downhill except for a few uphills and they never went very far. I’m an addict. That’s what got me here, living under an overpass. It doesn’t feel like home but I can feel halfway safe.

One of the biggest problems about living out here is basic cleanliness. It’s a chore finding restrooms and keeping clean. I keep the place as tidy as I can but my friend Richie leaves junk lying around. I don’t like it, it’s messy and draws attention.

Most people who walk by don’t even notice us half the time. Some give food and money, though I don’t ask for it.

For some reason housed people fear homeless people. Maybe because they think we’re scoundrels and bums and are going to steal everything. I don’t do that.

One time a guy offered my girlfriend and I $500 to shoot porn. We said no. I have social security and (Veterans Affairs) health benefits but survive mainly by collecting stuff and recycling it. Cans, bottles, extension cords, piping, copper, it’s amazing what people throw away. I’ve salvaged about $400 worth from that (Airbnb) dumpster. I guess you could say that makes me part of the technology industry but I don’t feel like it.

I think the technology boom is a good thing – the next generation. My phone is my most valuable possession. Out here you it’s the only way to stay in touch. I have email and Facebook. When we’re in the tent at night I like to go on YouTube and watch television, especially shows about the ocean. Killer whales, Great Whites ... every time they go out there they find something new.”

Christopher Young, 59: ‘The toughest thing about being homeless is the ageing’

Christopher: ‘People can be very kind and helpful.’ Photograph: Mae Ryan

“I was born 40 miles east of here. I studied computer-generated sound at Stanford and became the west coast agent for Zuckermann Harpsichords. I sold and built instruments, assembled kits, moved and tuned harpsichords for orchestras, that sort of thing. I composed two albums. One reviewer said my music was as addictive as drugs.

I had a 20-year lease on a loft pretty close to here. I’m gay and used to be very promiscuous. By the end of the 1980s so many people in my world were dying of Aids – 165 people I knew personally.

My partner, Mike, had been a marine and a US roller figure skating champion. Really bright, great sense of humour, well-travelled and in great shape. He got sick and died really quickly. That was 1992. Then my mother died. I had difficulty coping and slipped into depression. I had dental problems at the time and noticed when I took codeine I felt better. That led to morphine, then heroin. Well, you can imagine. I ran through my savings. Lost the apartment.

I’m on methadone maintenance treatment so I don’t do heroin anymore. But I’m still homeless. Every now and again I rummage in the waste bin for food. Occasionally people hand me their lunch. People can be very kind and helpful. I find it remarkable.

On the surface there’s a sense of community among the homeless but if people are on the street there’s often a good reason for it. Many are mentally disturbed. I keep to myself. I’ve been celibate for 15 years, maybe because the methadone lowers my sex drive.

The freeway keeps the rain off but the vibrations and sound from the traffic are affecting my hearing. The toughest thing about being homeless is the ageing. Miraculously I’m HIV negative but I have diabetes. I have no sensation in my feet, it’s like walking on stumps. I used to have a great set of teeth but lost them all. It was so horrifying to me I grew the beard to cover it up. There’s a gap in the middle because when I fall asleep with a cigarette it burns.

I use restrooms when I can. Otherwise it’s a garbage bag. I have a process. I don’t leave anything behind.

San Francisco has changed radically in the past 15 years. There used to be more gay people and gay culture. Now it seems to be technology and business. I like technology. A nephew who works at one of the big companies gave me a tablet. YouTube and Netflix are my entertainment at night. I can’t sleep, so it passes the time. I hope to get off the streets eventually. I’d like to get into a subsidised studio or a one-bed maybe.

Elizabeth Lewis, 53: ‘I don’t talk to people from my former life. I don’t want to burden them’

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Elizabeth: ‘When you’re a woman it’s more dangerous.’ Photograph: Mae Ryan

“I was a forensic psychologist and worked at state prisons. During (California’s) budget crisis they let me go. I had an apartment – stunning views over the Noe valley – but losing my income, coupled with separating from my girlfriend, and a few other things, put me on the streets. In anglo-saxon culture it’s profoundly shaming. You’d rather kill yourself than live on the streets. Yet here I am. I don’t talk to people from my former life. I don’t want to burden them. I call them civilians.

When my material possessions were all stripped away and I was still there it distilled my sense of self. It was liberating.

Artists, poets, musicians and philosophers used to be the heart of the city but they’ve been driven out and replaced by techies. At the beginning I felt a sense of conectedness to them but not anymore. Some look at you with detachment. Some with contempt, ridicule and fear. Others are very kind. It’s very humbling being in the most marginalised part of society. It’s different worlds. A strong sense of separation. They’re in there. We’re out here.

If you weren’t taking drugs before living on the streets, you do once you’re out here. It’s very tough. Crystal meth lets you deal with hunger or repetition, numbs you out. You want to get high. That’s the goal. People organise things around that. San Francisco is a crystal city.

The homeless move in little clusters and these little groups can become communities. But there’s no trust because people predate on each other, rob each other’s phones or tents, anything. People con you all the time. There’s a lot of paranoia and an end-of-days vibe. You hear rumours of people – civilians – giving poisoned food.

When you’re a woman it’s more dangerous so I move around on my bike. I’ve been attacked by men. Even if you’re a chick being beaten up by a dude people say, hey, that’s your own fight.

The community takes a lot of bikes from the yuppies. Tonnes of them. You buy and sell them. [Lewis grinned when told Nathan Blecharczyk, an Airbnb co-founder, had his bike stolen: ‘That makes me happy. I’m sorry’].

You see amazing things, especially at night. There’s a boy I’ve seen, a beautiful boy, very slender, who tap dances and sings, just for himself. There’s a timelessness out here; no one knows what time it is. But it’s not for the weak. Five days out here on a dollar a day will change your consciousness and your politics.”

Airbnb ‘initiatives’

In a written statement to the Guardian, Airbnb responded:

Homelessness is a complex issue with multiple causes and no simple solutions. We are committed to continuing our work with nonprofit organisations to help tackle this issue. We also know from our community that when people hit hard times, Airbnb can provide a valuable source of additional income to help pay the rent and allow people to stay in their homes.