What’s the Real Story in Reno?
My name is Luke Keck, and for the last few months I’ve worked as a reporter for Our Town Reno. I moved to Reno when I was 17 and fresh out of high school. I’m 24 now, and I’m getting ready to finish grad school in the next few weeks. I’ve spent seven years in the city, most of them around the University where I went to school, nestled in the suburban neighborhoods around Kings Row. In summer 2019, I moved downtown, and the experience shocked me a little bit because I started to see how many people we’ve left behind as Reno grows and moves forward.
Everybody who lives in Reno knows the city is evolving, we’ve heard the speeches from politicians and developers about the new Reno we’re looking to build, and we’ve heard the talking points about housing inequality and homelessness and how it’s a problem that needs to be fixed.
And that’s the story we hear, but it’s not the real story. The real stories aren’t told by numbers and statistics, they’re told by the people left without shelter in the shadows of luxury apartment buildings and giant offices, the people who can’t afford rent, the people who were put out on the street after the motel they lived in was torn down.
This photo was included as part of a series by Luke Keck on an empty Reno due to the COVID-19 shutdown.
How do We See the World Around Us?
The first story I wrote was about a homeless couple named Bill and Jaime. They live in a tent by the railroad tracks, but they spend most of their time playing cards under the BELIEVE statue on the Truckee River.
Jaime can’t work due to a disability, but Bill has a job. He makes just enough to make sure the two of them can eat and buy a few essentials, but he doesn’t make enough to afford an apartment in the city. They’ve been on a list for a low-income apartment for over a year, he tells me, but every time they’ve asked about their status they’ve been told they’re nowhere near the top.
Working for Our Town Reno and meeting people like Bill and Jaime made me confront some harsh truths about my own way of seeing the world. The more people I talked to on the streets, the more I saw how many of us are just one layoff or medical emergency away from being homeless ourselves. I think it’s easy to put communities that are facing homelessness or poverty into a box, to say “Well if they just ‘Fill in the blank’ they wouldn’t be in this situation.” It’s harder to realize that those people on the street corner or in a tent by the railroad tracks could very well be us. I didn’t really realize that until I started working with Our Town Reno.
Reporting on Reno’s most vulnerable populations was tough at times, because I saw just how many people were stuck where they were, how many people were looking for ways to get back to work or find an apartment or even just find a meal for the day. But what I also saw was how many people are helping, not because they’re paid to or because they think it makes them better people, but just because they care about their community.
Another story Luke Keck did was about community meals continuing despite the pandemic, which can be found here: http://www.ourtownreno.com/our-stories-1/2020/3/31/rise-still-helping-others-together-during-coronavirus-but-with-added-precautions
Staying Positive and Helping Out
For my final story, I interviewed Tabu McKnight, the owner of Tabu’s of Reno Barber Lounge. With his shop shut down from the coronavirus pandemic, McKnight has no other option but to wait it out until things calm down and take on debt to stay afloat. He was open with me about the anxiety and stress he was feeling, but what struck me was his positivity in light of all the challenges he was facing.
To me, people with attitudes like Tabu define Reno. There’s no doubt the city has its struggles, but it’s a place full of people who keep pushing forward no matter what life throws at them.
I didn’t expect to write for Our Town Reno. I didn’t plan to spend what will likely be my final months in Reno interviewing people without shelter, or small business owners who were struggling because the coronavirus closed their shops, or volunteers who made sure those in need could eat. But I’m grateful that I did.
Reno’s most vulnerable people are just as much a part of this city as I am, and their voices deserve to be heard like everybody else. Telling their stories was a privilege, and I would have never had the opportunity without Our Town Reno.
These last few months showed me how far our city still has to go when it comes to caring for our at-risk communities, but it also gave me the opportunity to see that despite how many problems Reno has, there are always people working to make it better.