It’s a warm afternoon in early September, likely one of the last of the year. As the season begins to turn, Burlington’s downtown will see an influx of UVM families and leaf-peeping travelers eager to purchase maple syrup and Vermont flannels on Church Street.
Nestled at the eastern end of Church Street, and smaller than a city block, Burlington’s City Hall Park feels more like a town square. Children splash in the fountain, and many pass through with bags from nearby shops.
Others have been here all day, and weeks before it, too — some alone, others in groups, some with blankets, bags or shopping carts.
Deborah Goodman spends most of her days in City Hall Park.
“This is my life,” she said, offering me a slice of banana bread. “The people around here are really nice. We all depend on each other.”
Deborah describes herself as “marginally housed.” She lives in an apartment across from the park, but is never without a shopping cart filled with her possessions. Her building has poor security, she told me, and she fears her belongings will be stolen.
“I want to get a job, but I can’t get a day where I have sleep, clothes and food — all three,” she said.
Today, like every day since 2020, volunteers with the local mutual aid organization Food Not Cops are serving free lunch to anyone who wants it.
Banana bread, soup, salads and sandwiches are on today’s lunch menu, some of which were provided by local restaurants, said Sam Bliss, who teaches economics at UVM and serves as an organizer with Food Not Cops.
Deborah said that free food and services provided by organizations like Food Not Cops are crucial for her.
She moved to Burlington in the 1980s to attend Burlington College, which ceased operations in 2016.
“This isn’t the Burlington I moved to,” she said. “The rents in the 80s were very affordable … I was always working as a waitress. I didn’t really see any panhandlers, and there wasn’t any talk about homelessness until the ‘90s.”
From behind us, a woman called, “Deb, how did you get so gosh darn cute!”
Deborah introduced me to her friends, Alex and AJ, who were sitting in the grass at the western end of the park.
Alex Olsen and AJ have each been homeless for over seven years. AJ is now living in an apartment, thanks to the support of a caseworker from Safe Harbor. Alex stays with AJ when he can, but apartment rules do not permit him to stay longer than 14 days, AJ said.
“We’re not a couple,” Alex said. “Just besties,” AJ added.
Most days, AJ has her Siberian husky mix, Walter, with her, who she quipped once ran for Mayor.
“Walter’s famous,” she said.
AJ, who declined to give her full name, first moved to Vermont in 1998 to study English and education at UVM. When her decades-long career in the medical field became too taxing, she was unable to find a stable work alternative and struggled to pay for housing, she said.
“People want to look down on you,” AJ said. “We’re like, ‘You know what? No. This could happen to you tomorrow. You never know.’”
Alex agreed. He has been waiting over five years to receive social security benefits, and relies almost entirely on panhandling as an income source, he said.
“I lost my job, and I couldn’t pay my rent. It’s just circumstance,” Alex said. “We tell everybody, it can happen to you overnight. Doesn’t matter how much money you have.”
Vermont’s homelessness rates have increased by 200% since 2020. In 2024, Vermont had the nation’s fourth highest rate of unhoused people per capita, according to the Housing and Homelessness Alliance of Vermont’s 2025 State of Homelessness in Vermont Report.
The City of Burlington operates several shelters, including seasonal warming and cooling shelters. It also funds local non-profits that provide services to people who are unhoused, mentally ill, addicted to substances or housing insecure, said Sarah Russell, who has served as the City of Burlington’s special assistant to end homelessness since 2022.
Due to the city’s relatively small size and vast rural surroundings, homelessness is particularly concentrated in Burlington, said City Council President Ben Traverse.
“The number of folks experiencing homelessness in Burlington is beyond our capacity as a municipality to address the issue,” Traverse said.
Alex and AJ have lived in shelters, motels, trailers and on the streets. At the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, they stayed in trailers and tents near North Beach, where the City of Burlington partnered with local shelter ANEW Place to provide trailers and tents.
Often, when there were no motels or trailers available, the two have slept under the marquee of The Flynn Theater. They told me they have spent countless nights outside, even in the snow and minus-20-degree weather.
“Being out here sometimes just sucks,” AJ said. “Cardboard is your friend.”
Despite what they’ve endured, Alex and AJ praised the availability of resources in Burlington.
“This is actually one of the best places in the United States [where] you can be homeless, other than the cold weather. There’s so many resources for us here,” Alex said. “We’ve always said, if you go hungry in this town, you’re just stupid.”
The pair are vigilant about their safety. Generally, they avoid City Hall Park. There is frequent open drug use, and theft is prevalent, so they keep all their belongings in their backpacks and always keep an eye out, AJ said.
Despite recent multi-million dollar renovations intended to make the park safer and suitable for public gatherings, City Hall Park has been a focal point of local controversy over rising homelessness rates and concerns about public safety.
There have been increased complaints about suspicious behavior, public drug use and disorderly conduct downtown, particularly in City Hall Park, said Shawn Burke, interim chief of the Burlington Police Department.
On Aug. 29, the Burlington City Council passed a resolution aimed at addressing these concerns. Among several measures, it outlines increased police presence in City Hall Park and enforcement of pre-existing ordinances against overnight camping, open substance use and a midnight to 6 a.m. curfew.
“Unwelcoming and illegal behaviors were driving people away from these public spaces that should be open to all,” said Traverse, who sponsored the resolution.
Enforcing city ordinances and no trespassing policies posted by private businesses are core components of the Burlington Police Department’s approach to addressing public safety complaints, Burke said.
Despite mounting concerns about public safety, violent crime rates have remained flat, Burke said.
In recent years, Alex and AJ say they’ve been on the receiving end of harsher public attitudes towards homelessness and increased scrutiny from police.
“There’s ‘no trespassing’ signs everywhere,” Alex said. “We used to always sit at Citizens’ Bank in the alcove over there, and now there’s ‘no trespassing’ signs.”
While Russell acknowledged the fear many Burlington residents have about public safety risks from individuals who are mentally ill or using illicit substances, she urged that more attention be placed on the needs of unsheltered people.
“Is someone allowed to be mentally unwell in public? Absolutely. Does it make us feel uncomfortable? Absolutely. Is it a crime? Definitely not,” Russell said. “I can’t overstate enough that people who have to sleep outside are at far greater risk of assault, theft [and] danger.”
In an interview the week before, Food Not Cops organizer Sam Bliss, who works extensively with unhoused people in Burlington, told me he had noticed a shift in public opinion on homelessness in the past five years.
“I think attitudes towards problems like homelessness in Burlington have also gotten a little bit more conservative and reactionary,” Bliss said.
Every person I spoke with in City Hall Park knew Bliss’s name. I asked AJ and Alex if they felt his analysis was accurate to their experiences.
“Absolutely. It used to be very easy for us to make money, and now people just stick their noses up,” Alex said.
During our interview, emergency personnel from the Burlington Fire Department arrived with a stretcher and wheeled a young woman out of the park.
“This happens all the time. It’s usually an OD,” Alex said. “We have lost too many to count, very good friends. But we’re still here.”
AJ raised her fist. “We’re still here,” she echoed.
