Portrait of Strength: A Voice from the Guadalupe Trail

The third feature of "You Are The Art.” This project is a photo journalistic series that features community members in their own words and environments. As an artist, author and educator in San Jose, I have watched countless changes occur over time. Recently, many of those changes have been negative. There are more people who are unhoused. There are greater numbers of our vital immigrant population who are afraid for their safety, their families and their livelihoods. Worse yet, their voices go unheard out of fear. Fear of discovery, fear of apathy or even fear of punishment keep people silent and in the shadows. This series exists in order to elevate the voices of the people at the forefront of these issues. People whose life experience and point of view, when revealed, can help to educate and inspire us all. The more we listen, the more we learn. Learning leads to higher levels of empathy, which can spark the connections we need to move forward together. 

-Khalilah Ramirez

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Debbie Despres .

At 63 years old, after four years of surviving unhoused along the Guadalupe Trail, she is stepping into her first home today — a milestone marked by courage, clarity, and a fierce love for community. Her lived experience is not a plea, but a call for dignity, accountability, and lasting solutions.

“Homeless people need rules too,” she begins — not from a place of complaint, but insight and wisdom. She knows firsthand that the endless sweeps fail because they offer no direction, no destination. “Without a plan for where we should go, how can we be expected not to return? This is the only home that people know. It’s where they know how to exist.”

What she asks for is simple: work, structure, and meaningful inclusion. “Give people something constructive to do.”

She’s adamant that being homeless doesn't erase individuality. Part of the issue is that policy makers here push a “one size fits all” approach to dealing with unhoused citizens. “We are not all the same. What works for one won’t work for another. Some people need meds and treatment, other people are seeking homes for themselves and their families.”

She urges decision-makers to leave their offices and to come out to meet people.

A voice often ignored, she asserts her worth with quiet power: “I am a good girl. I have friends. I am loved and trusted. I am a part of the community. I am strong and resilient.” Yet, Debbie needs medical care. She needs hip replacement surgery, yet she is not able to have it because, until today, she would have had no place to recover.

Debbie questions the logic of city policies, like removing outdoor restrooms from the areas surrounding the creek where 30 or more people were living. She asks, “Aren’t people angry? Don’t taxpayers wonder where their dollars are going?”

Above all, she believes in solutions. “Community is the key. We have the same problems as regular people [like hoarding and alcoholism]. The only difference is that some people have walls and doors to hide what’s going on.”

The missing piece, she says, is accountability — from the top down.

“I have ideas to help this city. I just don’t have a voice.” Yet today, her voice rang clear.

Portrait by John Dee Jackson