This story is part of an ongoing INDY series on libraries in the Triangle. You can read the rest of the stories here.

At 8:30 a.m., a heavyset man stands outside Richard B. Harrison Library waiting for the glass doors to open. It’s frigid, a near-freezing day, but John is prepared. 

“You got to have these,” he says, cheerfully pulling out a pair of mittens stashed in the pocket of his hoodie. “And don’t forget these,” he adds, pulling up the hem of his jeans to show off long johns. The outfit is topped with a bright orange-and-blue beanie.

John’s already been standing in the cold for about 45 minutes after dropping off his phone at a nearby barbershop to charge. If he manages to scrounge up a couple of dollars, he’ll get himself a Black and Mild before settling down in front of one of the library’s computers to look for a job, he says. 

“I’m not an entry-level person, I have certain skills,” he says. “My main thing is warehouse operations, like Amazon, DHL. I’m supervisor material.”

In addition to looking for a job and building his résumé, John is also looking for nonprofits that help pay rent and utilities, he says. 

We all take for granted that when you just don’t want to be around people, you go to your room, and you close the door. Libraries can provide some of that solitude and space for people.”

It’s not unusual for people in need, especially those who are unhoused, to show up at the library in the early hours. Richard B. Harrison and Oberlin Regional, the two biggest libraries in downtown Raleigh, are warm, clean spaces where people experiencing homelessness can linger without consequence. 

Living with homelessness can be chaotic, loud, and traumatizing, says Kathy Johnson, executive director of local nonprofit Oak City Cares. The library is a “safe, quiet space” where people can access the internet to connect with family or look for jobs. It also offers time alone, Johnson adds. 

“We all take for granted that when you just don’t want to be around people, you go to your room, and you close the door,” she says. “Libraries can provide some of that solitude and space for people.”

Recharging 

On the open, bright second floor of Oberlin Regional, people from all walks of life are sitting quietly—some reading, some working, and some just being. 

In one corner, a man in a gray beanie silently bops along to the music in his earbuds as he plays online chess. Across the floor, at a white desk, a young woman with long red hair types rapidly on a laptop. 

Meanwhile, Rob and his friend—a woman bundled up in layers of fleece sitting next to a metal walker—are “just chilling,” he says. They come here nearly every day, mostly to stay out of the cold or inclement weather. On this February morning, the sky is gray, and rain has been drizzling down for the last few hours.

“Her and I don’t have nowhere to go,” Rob says. “It’s somewhere to stay dry.”

Across the country, homelessness is surging. From 2023 to 2024, the number of people experiencing homelessness increased by 18 percent, according to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. 

Patrons work on the 2nd floor of the Oberlin Regional Library. Photo by Angelica Edwards

Numbers in Raleigh mirror that trend, Johnson affirms. In 2024, Oak City Cares served about 6,000 people, four times the number it served in 2022 (about 1,500). During Wake County’s annual Point in Time Count last January, volunteers spoke with 992 people who were unsheltered during the night, providing a snapshot of the extent of homelessness in and outside of Raleigh. Data from this year’s count is not available yet.

The wealth gap in North Carolina (and across the United States) is on the minds of many, including John. In early February, he’s troubled by the news of recent union battles between local Amazon workers and leadership.  

“They [the Amazon workers] are already on strike,” he says. “Jeff Bezos don’t want to pay them, and he got all them billions of dollars. And got money still coming in hand over fist. 

“Him and Elon Musk,” John continues. “This guy’s almost worth almost $500 billion. Can you imagine just waking up in the morning, your house is as big as this library, you got three, four private jets? That’s a whole lot for one person.”

Him and Elon Musk. This guy’s almost worth almost $500 billion. Can you imagine just waking up in the morning, your house is as big as this library, you got three, four private jets? That’s a whole lot for one person.”

On the other end of the oligarch spectrum are people at risk of eviction or experiencing homelessness. During the week, Oak City Cares acts as a hub where people can come to fulfill their “basic needs,” like doing laundry, taking a shower, or picking up mail. 

While libraries can’t provide all the services the nonprofit does, they do have public computers and areas where people can charge their cell phones. 

“It’s another one of those things that you might take for granted if you aren’t really familiar with experiencing homelessness—but your cell phone is your lifeline,” says Johsnon. “And being able to charge it really is important.”

Equally important is the fact that in a city where resources are limited, public libraries are numerous and usually easily accessible. Richard B. Harrison has a bus stop right outside its main entrance, and Oberlin Regional is also near a bus stop on Route 16. 

“We are an urban branch, and we have all the rewards and challenges that entails,” says Robert Lambert, manager of Oberlin Regional. “We have six universities in our service area, and we have at least as many shelters.”

“We are an urban branch, and we have all the rewards and challenges that entails,” says Robert Lambert, manager of Oberlin Regional. Photo by Angelica Edwards

Finding a balance 

This year, in a major step forward, social workers in training have the option to embed in various libraries as part of a UNC Pembroke internship program, says deputy library director Ann Burlingame. She’s hoping that the initiative, if the libraries are chosen by interns, may boost the library’s efforts to connect people to resources, including government aid programs that can be complicated to navigate. 

While the main causes of homelessness are the cost and availability of housing—not mental illness or addiction—there is still some overlap. Experiencing homelessness can worsen mental health, lead to substance abuse, and distance people from necessary care. Social workers could help librarians develop the skills they need to help or to de-escalate disruptive behavior. 

In 2024, Raleigh police responded to 17 calls for service inside Oberlin Regional Library, including for welfare checks, general assistance, disturbances, threats, and trespassing—which the library only resorts to after repeated offenses, says Lambert. 

If someone is violating the library’s policy against “excessive or disruptive noise or behavior,” they may be asked to leave, he adds. Likewise, if someone is clearly inebriated or under the influence of drugs, they will be escorted out. 

“If somebody has been drinking and just won’t stop talking to people, I’ll ask them to leave,” Lambert says. “Come back tomorrow. We’ll try it again. If they come back and it’s a continual chronic issue, then we may move to a trespass.”

A trespass charge means a ban of one year, although the decision can be appealed, Lambert says. Often, if the ban is related to alcohol addiction, “people get themselves together and they get a second chance,” Lambert says. “I’ve seen that time and time again. There are people who will probably be in today, who I know, who are sober now.”

The library also bans smoking, vaping, and the “misuse of restrooms, including use for personal bathing and grooming,” and requires “appropriate dress, including shoes and shirt.” But none of these rules apply only to a specific population, Lambert says. 

“There are people who are homeless who want a place to sit and eat. And we can do a lot, but we’re not a cafeteria,” he says. “But it applies equally to the high schooler who just came from Chick-fil-A.”

Still, some of these rules may disproportionately affect people experiencing homelessness, like the ban on sleeping. Library staff are not equipped to run a day shelter, but it’s also difficult to turn away someone who only got a few hours of sleep on the sidewalk last night. Sitting at Oberlin Regional, Rob says that one of his responsibilities is to keep his friend awake.

“She stayed at the food hall overnight. They let her sit there last night ’cause of the weather,” he says. “I was a block away from her. I have a tarp with me, so I covered myself with the tarp and that was that.”

There has to be a balance between public access and security, says Burlingame. Security officers from Allied Universal are stationed at Oberlin Regional and Richard B. Harrison Libraries, but the effort is to build relationships, not crack down on behavior. 

Social workers may also help bridge that gap, Burlingame adds, “so we don’t just assume that the way to handle this situation is to call security.” While there’s still progress to be made, Wake County libraries have done a great job of working with people experiencing homelessness, says Johnson, speaking from an outside perspective. 

“When you’re unhoused, there can be a lot of shame and distrust. You really don’t want to share with everybody what is going on and your situation. There’s a lot of judgment,” says Johnson. “In Wake County, they’ve been fantastic.”

No assumptions

Librarians are often the first point of contact for people who come in looking for help, whether it’s to find a book or a place to sleep. When a staff member is on the front desk, they essentially act as an “emergency room nurse,” says Lambert. 

“You have to triage every different person. People will come in with a need, and the ability to articulate that need is not as intuitive as you may think it is,” he says. “We listen to the person first, and we may ask clarifying questions so that we know the answer we’re providing them is actually addressing the need they have—which is not always the same as whatever it is they just expressed.”

There’s no one script, just like there’s no one type of person who comes into the library, says Lambert. Everyone comes from different circumstances, including experiences of homelessness.

“We are trained not to make assumptions,” Lambert says. “So before we actually listen to people, we have to withdraw our own biases so that we’re capable of hearing them. So we’re not imposing our own world view onto the person in front of us.”

“You have to triage every different person. People will come in with a need, and the ability to articulate that need is not as intuitive as you may think it is.”

In recent years, Wake County library managers also received additional training on how to help people dealing with housing insecurity, says Burlingame. Librarians toured Oak City Cares and heard about the experiences of people dealing with homelessness and the volunteers who help them on a day-to-day basis. 

“The thing that they [the county] taught us is to focus on the person, not on their situation,” says Burlingame. “They are our library customers. We really do want to be there to provide them support.”

At least some of the library’s new focus on housing insecurity is due to Wake County’s efforts to address the affordable housing crisis. In 2018, the county formed the new Department of Housing Affordability and Community Engagement, which began working with Wake County staff—including librarians—to figure out new ways of helping people experiencing homelessness. 

In 2020, the library stopped charging overdue fees in an effort to “limit barriers,” Burlingame says. She wants to ensure that people feel comfortable coming into libraries, and they have unfettered access to books and other resources. 

In the past two years, the library’s focus on affordable housing, healthcare access, and mental health has resulted in other new initiatives. Administrators started new partnerships with nonprofits and expanded existing education, public health, and child-focused programs. After all, helping people deal with homelessness isn’t always about managing crisis situations.

“You might see families with children who are living in a hotel but need a resource, a place that’s away from a hotel, which is not necessarily conducive to a family,” says Johnson. “They might be at a story hour, to provide some sense of normalcy in a situation that can often feel chaotic.”

Still, one of the biggest superpowers of the library remains its ability to connect people with reliable information, says Burlingame. That can include information about employment, federal aid programs, or even legal services. 

“Libraries are really great places for purposes of referral,” Burlingame says. “So when someone comes into our libraries and they need help, we can connect them to rental assistance, government benefits, food resources.”

Today, Rob is just thankful for the internet access the library provides. Surrounded by a smattering of half-empty plastic soda bottles, like sentries standing watch, he hunches over his cell phone as he participates in online surveys to earn a little cash. The money, he says, goes into his PayPal account, where he can use it for whatever he might need. 

“We got food stamps, so if it’s something I can’t get with food stamps,” Rob adds. “I’m just trying to get 70 more cents, then I’ll have $5.”

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