Young San Francisco entrepreneur Laurel Hilbert establishes non-profit for youth following his own bout with homelessness.
Laurel Hilbert moves fast. One morning not too long ago, Hilbert made his way into Philz Coffee near City College of San Francisco where he was taking business classes and ordered his first cup of coffee. He stood almost 20 feet away from the beginning of the line, confusing those behind him, and looked aimlessly into the distance. By his side was Aero, a yellow lab and Hilbert’s best friend. Hilbert is visually impaired, and was attempting to make his way through the maze that is the order-first-pay-later foundation of the coffee shop.
Months later, Laurel makes this same trip to Philz, as he does on most days, but this time, the barista calls him up immediately. “Laurel, I’ve got your drink!” Most of the employees rush to greet him and Aero down by the registers, showering them both with affection and warm greetings. Hilbert has a track record of making friends quickly. Having only just moved to San Francisco less than a year ago after city jumping between coasts here in the United States, he’s certainly made his mark on the city. “Every time I move to a new place, there are so many unexpected things that move my life forward in a positive manner,” says Hilbert.
However, none of this would have been possible without the many hardships Hilbert faced following his move from Saudi Arabia to America when Hilbert was only 17 years old. As just a boy of 12 or 13 years old, Hilbert had always dreamed of coming to America, where he envisioned a life and a future in a country where he could achieve unlimited potential. See, Hilbert is driven; he moves.
Born in Syria in 1996, Hilbert and his family moved to Saudi Arabia to join Hilbert’s father who had relocated for a shipping business. Hilbert doesn’t remember his time here fondly. His access to resources as a Syrian immigrant, as well as a visually impaired person, left him yearning. “There was a lot of discrimination on who was entitled to what…when it comes to human rights, so very much is abused, especially to those who are generally, don’t have the citizenship of the country,” Hilbert remembers. At the age of 17, in 2013, Hilbert told his family he was moving to the United States.
“They didn’t take me seriously, because I didn’t speak a word of the language, and I am visually impaired…and I didn’t know anyone here,” said Hilbert. Unfazed by their lack of belief in his ambition, Hilbert applied for a student visa. After his third application for a visa was denied, Hilbert grew weary, but nonetheless, undeterred. Finally, on the fourth attempt and after nearly four months of waiting for a response, his passport arrived in the mail, with an approved application and the student visa for the United States.
“That was a very emotional moment for me because that’s the fourth time, and I never gave up to apply and reapply until I get it. I called my family and told them I got my student visa and I am going to the United States next week. Well, they said ‘Come to Lebanon so we see you’ and I was like, ‘no you can’t trap me! School will start there soon and I am going”. [1]
After receiving a generous donation from a friend, Hilbert purchased a one-way ticket to Los Angeles, California. “The reason I chose [Los Angeles] is because I thought Harvard is in Los Angeles,” Hilbert chuckles. “While I was scared of the journey to come, more than anything, I felt hope for a better life.” After spending his entire life silenced by one oppressive government to the next, Hilbert was finally going to experience, what he believed to be, a completely well rounded, free, and inclusive life. However, Hilbert’s next four months living in Los Angeles proved to be far from idyllic.
“I felt as though I was diving into a bucket of shit that didn’t have a bottom. I got off the plane, and I didn’t use a cane at the time, because in Arab countries, there isn’t much awareness about visual impairment, and so people had canes, a lot of them didn’t use them, like myself. It’s really, really outrageous to even go to the United States blind, even [not] having a cane, just walking based on voices and sounds…I would not do it. How did that work? I can’t imagine myself without either a cane or Aero.”
After exiting the airport, Hilbert arrived at the curb and was able to hail a taxi. Unable to speak almost any English, Hilbert directed to the driver “Hotel!” Laurel spent his first night in the United States in a hotel. He spent the second night in a park.
Running low on cash, Hilbert checked out of his hotel early the next morning, and walked to a park where he would spend the next four months sleeping on park benches in UCLA Park in Inglewood. Initially without the guidance of any visual aid, Hilbert resorted to using a stick in order to feel his way around the park. Frequenting the nearby LA Fitness daily to shower and a nearby library to “borrow books and listen to them, and pausing on every single word and looking it up”, Hilbert was lonely and uncomfortable, but his pride prevented him from seeking help. [1]
“One night it got really cold…I was extremely depressed and scared. It was windy, no voices around me other than the trees wrestling in the wind, and I was 17. I was very young and scared. Being in a culture where I didn’t speak its language, being in a country where I didn’t know a single soul, and I wasn’t able to speak with anyone for more than four months. I just felt so isolated. Trying to learn the language on my own. I just felt so isolated and lonely. So I decided to call 211 as once I had encountered a policeman who had told me to call 211 for help,” Hilbert remembers, somberly.
A volunteer with an outreach organization came to his aid, and gave Hilbert his first bed in four months. He stayed with this woman and her family for two weeks, until the same organization called to offer him three months of housing. Not wanting to impose on his host and her family, Hilbert said his final goodbyes, and spent the next three months sharing a room with a stranger in government funded housing. After his three months were up, Hilbert was back on the street.
Bouncing between shelters in Hollywood and Northridge, Hilbert grew tired of the constant ill regard. He decided to purchase a one-way ticket, and take a (very long) plane ride to New York City, in hopes of finding refuge in a LGBT shelter. “I thought it was a city with a wealth of services, and culture competency,” said Hilbert. After sleeping on the sidewalk in the city for a few days, Hilbert contacted the NYC version of 211 (311), and was connected with an organization that placed him in a shelter.
Hilbert was referred to Ward’s Island, where “living conditions were particularly awful. I didn’t realize how awful it would be. When I went there, there were about 65 individuals in one bedroom. That was very terrifying to me. I just didn’t feel safe there at all.” Packing up once more, Hilbert returned to the streets. [1]
A chance meeting with the “sweetest, yet most aggressive” employee at the Department of Education named Margaret gave Hilbert just the push that he needed to begin moving forward. Margaret connected Hilbert to a shelter, and the next day, enrolled him in the Harvey Milk School in New York. As determined as Hilbert was to finish high school, he found public schooling unbearable, especially considering his visual impairment, but also found the curriculum dull and under stimulating. When Hilbert dropped out of school, he was determined to work. A woman, named Dawn, who commented on the unusually unfashionable attire of Hilbert (a Brooklyn Marathon t-shirt) as he was riding the D Train, immediately grew warm to Hilbert and offered him a business card.
Hilbert was hired on at Dawn’s company initially as an intern, but was promoted relentlessly throughout the next year or two, during which time Hilbert enrolled in and graduated from an online private school. However, Hilbert plateaued when a managerial position he was pursuing was denied to him based solely on his lack of a college degree.
While Hilbert was maneuvering the landscape of his new environment, his family was facing issues of their own in the UAE. Hilbert’s brother, also suffering from visual impairment, was arrested after avoiding the mandatory two-year service in the Syrian military following his 18th birthday. Unable to get him out of jail, Hilbert’s father moved to New York. Staying with a cousin, his father looked for a job, and because of the immediate Syrian crisis, was able to successfully apply for asylum as a Syrian immigrant.
In light of the Syrian migration crisis, Hilbert’s mother and siblings moved to Turkey in 2014. While in New York, Hilbert’s father was able to apply for asylum for the remainder of the family. Hilbert’s entire family ultimately had asylum granted to them in 2017 when they reconnected for the first time in years in New York.
With his family reunited in the states, Hilbert began living with them. While the comfort of familiarity and family gave Hilbert one of the most sustainable living situations since arriving in the states, things weren’t always so great at home. While he does concede that he has a great relationship with his mother and siblings now, when Hilbert came out as a gay man on Facebook in 2014, his family refused to talk to him for an entire year.
“Given I was out as a gay person…that’s not something necessarily that culture can stomach. I didn’t care so much, not because I didn’t care, just didn’t want to live my life, or a life, that is directed by other people. So I wanted to live life with dignity and grace, and not how other people want me to live it,” said Hilbert. Hilbert’s relationship with his mother and siblings eventually recovered, but Hilbert and his father remain on “not very positive terms.” [1]
He sustained this living situation for around six months, when, following the devastating loss of his career at the time, and his contentious relationship with his father, Hilbert made the tough decision to abandon his life in New York and move to San Francisco. Hilbert arrived in June 2017. Within two months of being in San Francisco, he had established both a for-profit and non-profit business, the for-profit finding such success in the city that he has been funding his non-profit with earnings from his initial business venture.
Hilbert’s non-profit, A Dignified Home, provides housing and services for homeless youth. Inspired by his own experiences dealing with homelessness, as well as his own personal motto about maintaining dignity and pride, this particular project resonates deep in his heart. A Dignified Home has big dreams. With big dreams, come equally as great challenges. “One of the challenges in nonprofit is funding, and the other challenge, in particular, my non-profit, is that it’s mainly supported by my for-profit business, that it hasn’t established the necessary credibility to earn the support of people. We’re getting up there. We’re doing what we can to reach our first goal. I am hopeful, despite life impediments. Not everything works out, but I’m doing what I can to make it work out.” [1]
When it comes to the future of A Dignified Home, Hilbert hopes, through the help of fundraising events, to bring in $250K by August 1st, when he expects to be providing housing for 6 city-selected homeless youth. The money would be able to provide the youth with semi-permanent housing for three years. “I have 17 volunteers that I have recruited virtually, and they are virtual volunteers that are scattered across the country,” stated Hilbert.
“Homelessness anywhere is the same. It’s undignified as it could be. Which is why I have started my organization – it was influenced by my own experience. Dignity, as a guiding principle in my life and as an individual, dignity was a crucial point, and a crucial principle that was missing from all the places that I had lived in. It isn’t dignified to move beyond people, from one place to another, it isn’t dignified to discharge young people based on income status or services they receive from the government. It isn’t dignified to discharge young people for bureaucratic reasons.” [1]
[1] Interview with Laurel Hilbert