Antoinette and her partner Santiago bounced around the Mission District for years, sleeping on the streets and relying on a patchwork of people and places for support. The Mission Neighborhood Resource Center, for example, was a favorite: “The lady who runs the showers like us,” Antoinette, or “Nettie” for short, said with a grin.
They preferred the Mission because it felt safer than other neighborhoods, even if the were harassed by cops and random residents. Getting housing, however, was a problem: Nettie said that workers from the city’s Homeless Outreach Team (SFHOT) couldn’t offer a place for her and Santiago to stay together.
“No couples rooms, no hotel vouchers … I felt like they lost my profile three times already,” Nettie, 38, continued. “It’s not that we’re refusing shelter. But it’s just refusing to not be with someone after 10 years of sleeping next to them. You’re not gonna really be too great going on your own, you know?”
But last week, through referrals and some advocacy from service providers who knew them, Santiago and Nettie qualified and moved into a room at Mission Cabins, the new tiny home community at 1979 Mission St. It fills the former parking lot of the long-shuttered Walgreens at 16th and Mission streets, featuring 60 homes that range in size from about 65 to 80 square feet — just large enough for a bed, dresser, and desk.
Outside the homes are some sitting areas on bright-green turf, where Nettie and Santiago sat while petting their gangly pit-mix dog, Monster.
“I feel like this place maybe gives us a chance to, like, get a job and start getting right. Just getting a shower can be challenging on some days,” said Santiago, 39.
They’re two of about 20 people who have moved in since Mission Cabins opened on April 15. The site is operated by Five Keys Schools and Programs, which offers adult-education programs in the Bay Area, runs the Embarcadero Navigation Center, and has helped create tiny-home communities in Alameda and San Leandro.
It expects to take on about 10 new people every week, and the facility has a lot of amenities: gleaming bathrooms; case management for people seeking permanent housing, employment, or education; free daily breakfast and dinner; and 24/7 assistance and security.
Much ink has been spilled over the cabins’ cost: $6.9 million, with an operating budget of nearly $2.7 million in its first year. And it could potentially be uprooted in two years, when redevelopment for the affordable housing complex known as the “Marvel in the Mission” is permitted to begin.
Whether that project will actually break ground in 2026 is a different matter, given the common delays that beleaguer residential developments. But the two-year gap adds urgency for the city to prove that investing in tiny homes can bring tangible benefits to unhoused people, residents, and business owners alike.
The homelessness crisis in San Francisco is daunting. Despite adding 1,000-plus temporary shelter beds over the past six years, there’s still huge demand for more “congregate” (or group) shelter sites and new permanent supportive housing units. The city has estimated it will cost more than $1 billion to stem unsheltered homelessness in the next three years. It would mean taking nearly 8,000 people off the streets and into stable housing, per a 2022 survey by the city.
Congregate shelters have been criticized by some unhoused people for being unsafe, harboring rampant drug use, and fostering fights between guests and staff. Meanwhile, permanent supportive housing sites have faced safety issues as some residents struggle with mental health, addiction, and destructive behaviors while solitary in their own unit.
A tiny-home community provides a compromise for anyone stuck in between, said Five Keys CEO Steve Good.
“You’re not constantly on high alert,” Good said. “Here, you get a chance to stabilize. Typically, we see substance abuse drop, and mental health issues start to reduce when they’re in comfortable shelter.”
Mission Cabins currently has two case managers on site, and there are rules and regulations to living there. For example, during the intake process, new residents’ belongings are searched for “anything dangerous,” Good said. While drug use is technically forbidden on the grounds, Good confirms it is not a zero-tolerance site. Their harm reduction protocol includes doing room checks several times each day: “Virtually every site we’ve had, we’ve saved someone from an overdose by doing a room check,” Good said.
Balancing accountability, self-care, and rules around behavior can be a challenge, especially if there are conflicts between residents. The crucial factor is making sure they feel the freedom to make choices while also receiving good-faith support from staff, said Elizabeth Funk, CEO of nonprofit DignityMoves.
DignityMoves helped finance and develop 33 Gough, a tiny-home site with 70 small residences that has been running for two years. It is the former site of a safe-sleeping tent community, and the transformation served as a pilot project on an under-utilized chunk of private urban space. The city has explicitly stated that 33 Gough was the inspiration and model for Mission Cabins — and it is a preview of how the next two years will unfold.
It cost significantly less to build (about $30,000 per unit versus over $100,000 at the Mission Cabins) and includes dining halls, communal restrooms, and a computer room. The 33 Gough community is overseen by nonprofit group Urban Alchemy (whose “practitioners” are commonly found Downtown and in the Tenderloin).
Funk remains critical of how cities have prioritized pricey permanent supportive housing projects without similar support for interim options. Without enough units being built, people are left to languish in the street, she notes. The City also trails far behind its neighbor, San Jose, which has rapidly built hundreds of tiny homes across multiple sites in recent years.
“I think the big lesson I learned from watching 33 Gough is that people love community living. They learn in encampments that being with other people is literally survival,” Funk continues. “Outreach workers say when they go to a camp and offer someone a bunk bed in a group shelter, they’re lucky if one out of 10 people takes it. But tiny homes? Nobody turns it down. The public still believes unhoused people really would rather be on the street. It’s not true. They would just rather that than whatever they’re being offered.”
The long-term goal is to let people stabilize, learn to trust the process, and move onto more permanent housing options, said 33 Gough site director Everett Butler. Most people leave 33 Gough after about three months, Butler said. But Urban Alchemy also works to support people beyond that, said COO and co-founder Bayron Wilson.
“We understand many of them aren’t ready in 90 days. That’s the whole part of meeting them where they are. Some residents eventually get inspired by seeing people move on,” Wilson said. “I’m really proud of the fact that Everett really took a stance and said, let’s not focus on pushing them out in 90 days. Some will need longer. Some might take a year. It’s really not necessary for us to determine when someone needs to move on.”
Funk suggests creating new subsidies or other funding streams for similar types of interim housing, including special sites for domestic violence survivors or those with unique medical needs. Every project faces a challenge, however, as convincing groups of housed people, property owners, and business operators in a community can lead to complicated fights. Those stakeholders expect interim housing and shelters to visibly improve conditions on the street as a sign the plan is “working,” Good said.
Five Keys, like Urban Alchemy, has stated it will maintain clean sidewalks around the tiny-home sites, including by using SFHOT workers to move tents if they show up. In a statement to Gazetteer, District 9 Supervisor Hillary Ronen emphasized the importance of such a strategy.
“If we want to decrease homelessness and improve street conditions with shelters, we need to have well-run, dignified shelter options like the Mission Cabins, and we need to ensure street conditions around the site are improved,” Ronen said in an email. “My office and I worked with our City departments, and I advocated to create a new position, to specifically address street conditions around shelter sites in the Mission.”
It’s hard not to see the tension here: The arrival of a tiny-home community could feel hostile to other vulnerable people if it means the threat of enforcement hangs over their heads. But for now, multiple encampments I spoke to in and around the Mission suggested genuine interest in tiny homes.
“Especially if my friends can be there, too. I can’t be alone so much,” said a young man named Johnny, who was situated on a sidewalk along Shotwell Street.
Nettie doesn’t love everything about her new cabin home, of course — the fact that the top of her windows have clear glass, presumably so a worker can peek in during a suspected emergency, is an annoyance. Still, the benefits clearly outweigh the conditions.
“We kind of already know everyone that’s moving in here,” she said with a quiet chuckle. “We’re not trying to stay for too long, because we want permanent housing for the two of us. But it’s good to be here.”
Santiago nods and scratches Monster on the head as the sun shines down on new green turf.
