Institutionalization

The unintended consequences of giving.

In cities around the world, charitable acts such as donating meals, clothing, or hygiene supplies have become central to how communities respond to homelessness. These acts are often done with genuine compassion and goodwill. Yet, behind the generosity lies a troubling paradox, the unintended institutionalization of the very people these efforts aim to help.

While short-term relief is critical, especially in crises, a charity model that revolves around dependence, where every basic need is met externally, can quietly strip individuals of agency. Over time, this dependency can become a form of soft institutionalization, reinforcing a cycle where dignity, autonomy, and personal growth are sidelined in the name of immediate comfort.

Institutionalization doesn’t always look like a locked facility. Sometimes, it looks like a line for a sandwich or a schedule that dictates when or if you can shower. Many well-meaning services operate in ways that inadvertently reduce the personal choices of people without homes. When food is only available at certain times, when donated clothing cannot be chosen freely, or when people are not allowed to cook, clean, or care for themselves in their own ways, the result can be a quiet erosion of independence.

Even access to something as basic as a shower or clean clothes can become conditional, rationed, or treated as a privilege. Without regular access to laundry or hygiene facilities, people are denied the ability to present themselves with dignity, care for their health, or feel clean in their own bodies. Hygiene should not be a form of control, it should be a human right.

In 2020, during the early waves of the pandemic, a powerful counter-example emerged at Belle Park in Kingston, Ontario. As people without homes set up an encampment, the City, unusually, allowed access to electrical plugs on-site. This small but meaningful act enabled residents to create a grassroots community kitchen powered by an array of small appliances - hot plates, skillets, electric kettles….

The kitchen wasn’t run by an outside organization, it was built and maintained by the encampment community itself. Some people provided food, others cooked, and meals were shared among neighbours. What unfolded was a living example of mutual aid, individuals stuck outside creating comfort, nourishment, and connection for one another.

When the Belle Park encampment was eventually dismantled, the community lost more than tents and space. They lost the ability to prepare their own food, to care for each other in a familiar rhythm, and to live, if only briefly, with autonomy. The loss of that kitchen was the loss of self-directed lives.

An encouraging shift has taken place more recently at Partners in Mission Food Bank in Kingston. When the organization moved into a new building, they made a bold and thoughtful decision. Instead of continuing the traditional food box model, they created a space where people could shop and make their own food choices.

This redesign moved away from charity as rationing, and toward support through empowerment. The impact has been significant. People who were previously reluctant to accept pre-packed food boxes, often filled with items they couldn’t use or didn’t want, are now genuinely excited to go shopping at the food bank. I’ve seen a noticeable reduction in food waste, and a more diverse range of meals being cooked and enjoyed by recipients. Those small acts of choice, selecting pasta over rice, or choosing ingredients for a culturally familiar dish, restore a sense of normalcy and control. It’s not just about calories, it’s about autonomy.

I’d like to recognize and thank Salvation Army’s Community Choice Pantry for leading the way, they’ve long been offering a grocery store model at their location, giving people the dignity of choice.

Access to a kitchen is about more than food, just as access to a shower is about more than hygiene. These are daily rituals that allow people to feel human again. They’re tied to identity, culture, and dignity and create structure, routine, and self-worth. When people without homes are denied the ability to cook, bathe, or clean their clothes when they choose, we deny them the everyday acts that most of us take for granted.

When transitional housing, shelters, or support services fail to provide access to these basic facilities, or impose rigid limits on their use, it signals that people in crisis cannot be trusted with the ordinary responsibilities of life. The Belle Park kitchen, Partners in Mission Food Bank and Salvation Army Community Choice Pantry show otherwise. With support, not control, people thrive.

We must begin reimagining our systems of support with dignity and autonomy at the centre. This means designing services and spaces that allow people to reclaim agency, even before they have permanent housing. We must recognize people not as passive recipients but as full human beings with tastes, talents, goals, and the right to make choices.

To be clear, charity is not the problem, how we deliver it is. There will always be a place for generosity in a just society. But true support should not come at the cost of personal sovereignty. The long-term goal must not be just to meet needs, but to restore a sense of control, dignity, and purpose. Whether it’s a sandwich, a sweater, or a shopping cart full of groceries, we might ask ourselves if the giving is helping someone feel human, or is it quietly reinforcing their place in a system that keeps them dependent?

If you are someone who generously donates to organizations which support people in need, thank you. Your contributions matter, and your dollars have power. Before you give, please ask yourself if the organization empowers people to make choices for themselves, and helps people move towards independence and self-determination. Please support programs which restore autonomy, not just relieve suffering and help build a system of care that uplifts, listens, and trusts.

Can we shift from a system of charity and control to one of partnership and trust? What ideas do you have? What changes have you seen, or could you imagine, that give people more freedom, more voice, and more dignity? If you're someone who gives, volunteers, or works in these systems, your perspective matters. Bold, community-rooted solutions are needed to design support structures which don’t just serve people, but free them.