More Than a Roof: What Two Progressive Leaders Want for NYC Foster Youth

As a policy advocate with lived experience, I’ve spent the past year collecting and uplifting youth testimonies about what supportive housing actually looks like for young people aging out of foster care. After hearing these stories straight from the source, I wanted to take a step back and look at the bigger picture—at the structural forces and components shaping where these buildings are placed and whether those locations are truly serving youth well. Many studies have shown that where you live has a direct impact on your self-esteem and overall well-being, including your mental health, physical safety, access to opportunity, education, career, and financial stability. So when foster youth are placed—often for their first experience living alone—into neglected buildings in some of the most disinvested and unsafe neighborhoods in New York City, it puts their future at risk. These placements affect everything from access to healthy food, clean surroundings, and reliable transit, to how much poverty and violence they’re exposed to. All of these factors ultimately have a massive impact on the direction their lives take as they transition into adulthood.

In my first piece for Next100, I focused on youths’ real life stories —bringing forward the voices of young people who’ve actually lived in supportive housing after aging out of foster care. I followed that up with a recent project that uses mapping data to show what these placements look like from the outside: the buildings, the neighborhoods, and the conditions that surround them. But to deepen the picture, I also wanted to understand how these placements happen—and whether they reflect what’s best for youth. That’s why I spoke with two people who have both professional expertise and a personal stake in this issue: Jeremy Kohomban, CEO of family-focused nonprofit The Children’s Village, and City Council Member Rita Joseph. Their insights help illuminate the policy decisions behind these placements, why these housing sites are concentrated in certain neighborhoods, and what it would take to create a more dignified and equitable system. Both of them care deeply about this issue—not just as experts, but as people who have raised and supported youth themselves—and their perspectives push us to ask harder questions about what we’re building, for whom, and why.

Read on to learn what they have to say about these systems and how we can make them into what New York’s most vulnerable youth need and deserve. The interviews have been lightly edited for brevity and clarity, and I have occasionally added emphasis.

Articulating the Problem

Cheyanne Deopersaud: Why are so many supportive housing placements concentrated in disinvested neighborhoods? Are there any popular misconceptions about why the system is this way?

Jeremy Kohomban: I have some personal opinions on this. First, I think it’s easy. It’s easy to go into a community that lacks political power and say, “We’re going to place 250 homeless individuals and foster youth here.” Those communities can’t push back the same way wealthier ones can.

That’s why nearly 80 percent of affordable housing continues to be built in our most burdened neighborhoods—because it’s simply easier. The second reason is deeper: I still think the system believes that young people in foster care should be happy with whatever we give them. So we place them in buildings far from public transportation, next to methadone clinics or shelters. There’s nothing inherently wrong with those services—but when you stack every vulnerable group into the same few neighborhoods, everyone loses.

We haven’t raised our collective consciousness. We don’t ask hard enough questions. Why are we putting another building here when this neighborhood already has a shelter, a struggling school, and high levels of poverty? Why bring more to a place already overburdened?

We need to be challenged. And we need to start challenging the system itself. If every provider—if every leader—said, “No, we’re not placing youth in these neighborhoods anymore,” I promise you the system would change. But as long as we keep going along with it, it won’t.

Deopersaud: Some youth shared stories of living in buildings with major issues—mold, broken doors, infestations. When you hear that, what does it make you think about how we’re currently structuring our systems of care and housing?

Rita Joseph: It breaks my heart. I cry about these things—especially thinking about my boys. If I hadn’t adopted them, that could’ve been their future. I saw a story on NY1 where a judge had to intervene because a girl’s apartment was so infested. Why does it take a judge to say that’s unacceptable? There should be a checklist—a standard—before a youth enters supportive housing: safe conditions, good schools nearby, mental health support, green space, clean infrastructure. And when they leave? We should have exit surveys. Would you recommend this building to another youth? If not, why? What was missing?

Deopersaud: What would you say to someone who believes we’re already doing “enough” just by giving foster youth a roof over their heads?

Jeremy Kohomban: I hear that all the time—and it’s not good enough. We need to move beyond this idea that, just because a young person was in foster care, they should be happy with whatever we give them. That mindset is rooted in a long history of separation and segregation.

It’s the same attitude that once said: “Be grateful you’re alive—but you can’t come into my neighborhood, you can’t sit at my table, you can’t shop at my store, and you can’t drink from my water fountain.” That is not the democracy I want my children to inherit.

No—just giving someone a roof is not enough. Especially not when we’re talking about young people who have already spent so much of their lives in a system that was supposed to care for them. We owe them more than survival. We owe them dignity, opportunity, and a real shot at thriving.

“Be happy with what you get” is a deeply inadequate standard—and we should reject it at every level.

The Consequences of the Problem

Deopersaud: From your experience, how does the environment where a young person lives affect their sense of self, their goals, and their long-term outcomes?

Jeremy Kohomban: Where you start matters—especially in foster care. Young people in the system don’t have much control over their lives, not because people don’t care, but because the system is highly regulated. We’re so focused on keeping kids “safe” that we sometimes forget how much that control shapes their development. It’s not a normal childhood.

That’s why what we give young people when they first leave care matters so much—it’s a value statement. When we give them the same kind of environment we’d want for our own children, we tell them: “You matter. You deserve this.” That shapes their sense of personal value: Proximity to transit, to fresh food, to well-maintained buildings—those things aren’t luxuries. They’re signals. They shape how youth see themselves and their potential.

And it’s not just about individual development. It’s about inclusion. Why would we keep putting foster youth in the corners of our city, away from everyone else?

Deopersaud: In your work across education and housing justice, you’ve seen how neighborhood conditions affect outcomes. What kinds of environments do you believe give young people the best chance to thrive?

Rita Joseph: Safe, supportive, resourced communities. That’s what young people in care deserve. Communities with resources have less crime—this is proven over and over. Mental health services, job pathways, education—all of this matters. Even parks and trees—yes, green space affects mental health. In neighborhoods with fewer trees, more people die from heat stroke. Grocery stores with fresh food, reliable public transportation, access to schools—all of it plays a role.

Deopersaud: When we talk about “quality housing” for youth aging out of care, what does that mean to you—not just physically, but emotionally and developmentally?

Jeremy Kohomban: Foster care plays an important role—there are children who need it, and we need a system that keeps them safe. But foster care isn’t home. It’s not family. It’s not community. No matter how hard we work, it doesn’t even come close to what a true home can provide.

A home gives a young person something foster care often can’t: the chance to create their own identity. In foster care, everything is spelled out. You conform to someone else’s rules—whether in a foster home or residential care. But when you step into your own home for the first time, you finally get to make decisions. You decide what goes on the walls. You decide what it feels like.

When we talk about housing for youth aging out of care, we’re talking about that opportunity to start fresh—to feel safe, to feel beauty, and to begin shaping a life of your own. We don’t want them to stay in that first apartment forever. We want it to be so good that it sparks a desire to reach for more the next time. That’s the American story: to strive, to grow, to dream bigger.

But when we place youth in broken buildings, in dangerous places, in housing that feels like an extension of the system, we strip that spark away. We send a message: “This is what you deserve. Be happy with what you get.” And even if we don’t say those words out loud, that’s what the experience tells them.

Personal Connection with the Work

Deopersaud: You’ve long been a champion for youth in care. What originally sparked your commitment to making sure young people have access to safe, stable housing?

Jeremy Kohomban: That’s a great question—I’m not even sure anyone has asked me that before. I think what originally sparked my commitment to housing was becoming a father. It was the first time I truly realized the role I needed to play to make sure my children would grow up with everything I wanted them to have. Within weeks of becoming a parent, I was thinking about location and opportunity.

As I grew into this work, that focus on place stuck with me. We were doing great work getting young people back to families, foster homes—good people, supportive environments. But then, when they aged out, we sent them into neighborhoods where they felt unsafe and had no support system—no family. That contrast stuck with me. It’s what got me thinking about housing as more than a building.

Deopersaud: You’re a mother and an advocate—where would you want your children to live if they had to start over? What kind of neighborhood, and housing would you want for them?

Rita Joseph: In a place like where I grew up—Ditmas Park—with big Victorian homes, access to green space, Prospect Park nearby, public transportation, clean streets, and cultural institutions. My kids deserve that. All young people do. I want them to come home at night and feel good, not afraid. I don’t want them looking over their shoulder or eating dinner with rats in the kitchen. That’s unacceptable—and no young person should have to live like that.

Deopersaud: You’re a father and an advocate—where would you want your children to live if they had to start over? What kind of neighborhood and housing would you want for them?

Jeremy Kohomban: I want my children to live in a place that’s diverse—where they can meet all sorts of people. A place where my daughter, Abigail, might come home and say, “I met Cheyanne today, and she told me her story,” and I could say, “That’s great.” That’s the kind of community I believe in: diverse, inclusive, and above all—safe.

But what we’re doing instead is placing young people in terribly dangerous situations—and then asking them to go to school, to work, to function normally, and to come home alone at night. What parent would ever say that’s okay for their own child? None. So why are we doing it to foster youth?

Your data shows it clearly—precinct-level crime rates where supportive housing is located are staggeringly higher than in other parts of the city. That’s not just a policy issue: it’s a moral one. Because safety isn’t a luxury. It’s a basic condition for success—and every young person deserves it.

Forging Solutions

Deopersaud: Many youth aging out of care are placed in neighborhoods with deep disinvestment. From your experience, what policy shifts could help us ensure placements happen in communities that truly support healing and opportunity?

Rita Joseph: We have to be intentional. Foster youth cannot be an afterthought. If we truly want placements to support healing and opportunity, then we need to think about equity in zoning, funding, and school access from the start. We need that same mindset when it comes to housing: intentionally placing youth in environments that uplift them, not retraumatize them.

That’s why when we met with you and other foster youth, it was clear: you need to be at the center of this conversation. I can support the work, but I haven’t walked in your shoes. I can be a facilitator and an advocate—but the voice that drives policy has to be yours. We also need to build with empathy. I don’t believe in creating policies just to create them. Policies have to reflect compassion and lived experience—real support, not just lip service.

Deopersaud: How do funding and zoning policies influence where supportive housing for youth ends up being placed—and do you think there’s space to reimagine what’s possible within those systems?

Rita Joseph: I’m going to be honest—these systems were never really built with foster youth in mind. When they were creating policy, zoning, and housing plans, foster youth weren’t part of the conversation. And that’s still the case today. I’ve been in meetings where people say, “Oh my God, I didn’t know this was happening.” And I have to say, “Yes. That’s what the data shows. These outcomes are real.”

The placements are in neighborhoods with the highest crime, the lowest-performing schools, and where no one is investing. It’s always the same types of neighborhoods. There’s never been a specific niche or category carved out for foster youth in housing policy the way there is for, say, seniors. So when foster youth are placed, it feels like an afterthought—like, “Oh, just push them into that little gap right there.”

We have to reimagine what’s possible. That starts with education. People making decisions often don’t understand the unique needs of this population. I remember holding a City Council hearing on foster youth early in my term, and people were texting me during the hearing saying, “We had no idea.”

It’s about aligning funding with values. When we talk about equity, this is where we should start. That means investing intentionally—not just in buildings, but in laws, in funding formulas, in zoning policies that keep foster youth front of mind. Not as a check-box at the end. Not when someone like Cheyanne brings it up. But as part of the plan from the beginning.

Deopersaud: What would it take—politically or financially—for us to see more supportive housing placements in neighborhoods with stronger schools, lower crime, and more opportunity?

Rita Joseph: Courage. That’s what it takes. And reform—especially zoning laws. We have to stand up to NIMBYism. Some communities have no shelters at all, while others have many. We should be building affordable housing everywhere, not just in the same few places. Wraparound services—mental health, careers, schools—should be part of every placement. I would love to see a foster youth–run community land trust. Let them own something. Let them build something that’s theirs. That’s the pathway to homeownership. That’s the American dream.

Deopersaud: As someone who always speaks up for equity, how do you think we can begin to shift resources and attention toward communities that haven’t historically received investment—especially when it comes to housing for vulnerable young people?

Rita Joseph: It starts with doing the work with foster youth, not just for them. We have to invest in Black and Brown communities. Equity shouldn’t depend on your ZIP code. Get involved in participatory budgeting. Push your electeds. There are parts of the city with no shelters and others with nothing but shelters—every community should share the responsibility.

Deopersaud: What role can City Council members play in shaping where supportive housing is developed—and how can we support you in moving those conversations forward?

Rita Joseph: That’s a tough question, but it’s the right one. We talk a lot about policy ideas, but how do we actually fix the funding piece? One place to start is the Uniform Land Use Review Procedure (ULURP)—that’s where housing development decisions are made, and where set-asides for specific populations, like foster youth, can be included.

Maybe that’s how we begin to get it right. Create designated set-asides: a certain number of units in every project for youth aging out of care. That doesn’t necessarily require a massive new pot of money—it just takes planning and prioritization. But to do that properly, there still has to be funding tied to the mandate. I hate unfunded mandates—when we’re told to do something but no dollars are attached. That doesn’t work.

And every project is different. One building might cost half a million dollars to provide ten units for foster youth, depending on the neighborhood. So there’s no cookie-cutter model—but we still need to build real resources into the policy. We need to be realistic about cost, and still bold about vision.

Most importantly, you need to keep showing up. Share your data. Speak at hearings. Keep educating people through your lived experience. Because like you just told me—today you’re living in your fourth supportive housing placement. I didn’t know that before. And I wouldn’t have guessed that it took you four tries to get somewhere where you can finally say, “I can breathe. I can eat. I can walk barefoot in my apartment.” Those are the things people take for granted—basic things that many foster youth don’t get. That’s what makes your voice powerful. We need your truth in these conversations to help make funding and policy more human, more urgent, and more just.