The rain on the west side of town subsides, allowing sun rays through sections of parted clouds. The burning sun takes over, showing no signs of ceasing, warming the dead-end street where Jetty Etty is parked in her lime green car.
Two people stand by the open car door, grabbing bags and other items before Etty heads out for outreach work.
The Barefoot Defenders
Etty is the founder of the Barefoot Defenders, a local and radical advocacy group for the unhoused community in Eugene and Springfield. Its mission is to “remind people they are valuable, important, worthy of taking up space and being treated like human beings,” she said.
Etty said there are “no typical” days for her. The only thing they share in common is the services provided to homeless communities in Eugene and Springfield.
“Jetty Etty” is an alias used for the protection of her children from people who may be against the work she does for the unhoused.
This year, Etty was taken to court for trespassing while doing outreach work by disrupting a city council meeting during a July protest organized by the BD. In what she describes as a “win,” Etty reached an agreement in her case on Oct. 17 and was assigned 30 hours of community service with all other charges dropped.
“I am not a hooligan,” Etty said. “I am just stepping foot in places where people are and that’s illegal.”
One of the reasons Etty said she accepted the deal was because she wanted to continue providing outreach services.
“If you’re on probation, you can’t break any laws. And if I am trespassing, I’m obviously breaking laws,” Etty said. “That’s how I got all these damn tickets.”
Etty started her car, empty boxes of Marlboro 27s in the cup holder and on the passenger side floor, and drove off from the dead-end street.
A few minutes after 1 p.m., Etty arrived at the Barefoot House, home to fellow members of the BD. Supplies that go out to the community are stored there before being delivered to individuals in need of them.
The home is a small hall-and-parlor type with a gate surrounding the property. Boxes with food for donation sit outside the front door.
Inside the Barefoot House, a bin with collected rain gear, ponchos, garbage bags and socks sits on the living room floor.
Etty kneeled and considered its contents. She gathered the rain gear and garbage bags, all that was needed for an afternoon of outreach.
Only making a few steps outside the Barefoot House, an unhoused man on a bike, Kenny, calls out to her and she offers him a poncho: the first provision of the day.
Etty said she is well known by the unhoused community in Eugene. She said, if they are homeless and on Highway 99, “I probably know them or they probably know of me.”
Encampment Sweeps Now
After a few more rounds of deliveries, Etty commented on encampment sweeps that her organization contends are unlawful because city workers won’t provide campers with the required 72 hours of notice, per Oregon Revised Statute 195.505.
Amber Allan, Housing and Homeless Communications Manager with the city, said the city continues to follow state and city laws and has local partnerships that seek a “humane” response to unsanctioned campers.
“The City acknowledges that this is a complex and sensitive issue,” Allan said in an email correspondence. “We understand that some community members advocate for a change in City rules and practices to allow people to camp in public. However, many in the community have expressed strong desires for faster and more lasting responses to unsanctioned camping and its impacts.”
“I had 45 people show up to camp,” Etty said as she pointed through her open car window to an area where campers settled after vacating Seneca Road camp on July 18. “And then we got served with a 72-hour notice. They came back 23 hours later and gave everyone 15 minutes to get their stuff off the land.”
Etty, along with many unhoused, use an app called Regrid which shows property boundary lines to indicate where camping may be permitted. When questioned by neighboring business owners or law enforcement as to why encampments settle in a specific area, Regrid is the first line of defense.
The day of the July sweep, Etty received trash bins that were donated to help with trash disposal.
Sarah Horton, an unhoused woman with a psychology degree, said that “she has been a saint. When we don’t know what to do, we call Jetty, and somehow she fixes it.”
Despite making efforts to keep the people she helps from littering and causing damage to land, Etty said she has had little to no support from city officials after asking for garbage disposal receptacles.
“They could accomplish a lot, if city officials would even work with people who are not 501(c)(3), like Barefoot Defenders,” Etty said. “It pisses me off that the city refuses to listen to people who are boots-on-the-ground. They won’t listen to me.”
Etty said she has made efforts to collaborate with the city council and so far has only gotten a response from Councilwoman Emily Semple.
“This is an issue I’m concerned about and it’s totally visible,” Semple said. “The city’s got a budget shortfall. This is a conundrum, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Semple said she has presented the issue to the city manager with no actionable responses thus far.
Despite having no direct support from city officials, Etty said the flame that keeps her going won’t be “extinguished.”
Catalyst for Activism
As a five-year-old, Etty attended her first women’s rights protest in Idaho in 1991. She said her “hate” for police motivates her to keep going, the origin of which stems from the relationship she had with her father.
“My dad was the kind of cop who you would see kneeling on someone like George Floyd’s neck,” Etty said. “I was interrogated my whole life by my father so there’s a huge part of me that fights for that reason.”
A portion of Etty’s passion for the work she does also stems from her mother’s influence. Etty said her mother often encouraged her to donate her fast food to unhoused people they would encounter.
“I remember her saying ‘that could be your guardian angel God sent here to test us. We should always be kind to those people,’” Etty said.
This reaction stood in stark contrast to her father’s opinions who would say “those people are trash, drug addicts.”
Etty has not been in contact with her father since 2018.
“These are the underdogs,” Etty said. “There’s a huge part of me that fights for anyone who is being oppressed, especially within the police system.”
The work she does, although aiming to create a lasting positive impact, is “never enough.”
“We haven’t done enough to help people,” Etty said. “I am really scared that everything we get them is going to be taken away in a few days.”
Etty looks into the distance through her windshield as she remembers the first interaction she had with a group of homeless teens outside of Cowfish bar on Broadway. One of them was a 16-year-old girl who ran away from an unsafe home.
“There is so much more to homelessness than we even understand or know,” Etty said.
Etty exits her car, cigarette smoking in hand, as she approaches a bus-turned-home on the side of the same dead-end street where the afternoon started.
