When Rachel Gonzalez Quintana came to San Ysidro five years ago, she stayed at Motel 6. Her husband was deported, but she had faith he’d soon make his way back across the border. Meanwhile, she and her seven children could live on savings. She didn’t apply for government assistance; she didn’t know how and didn’t think she’d need it. Her family would be reunited quickly, she hoped, and could return to the Bay Area where they had strong community connections.
Living in Motel 6 wasn’t intended to be a long-term solution; occupants can’t stay longer than 28 consecutive days. On nights Rachel couldn’t gather enough recycling to afford a room, the family slept in their minivan. It was an old van and frequently left them stranded, but it provided a roof over their heads when necessary. When the van was working, she’d take the children to Tijuana to visit their father.
Gonzalez Quintana enrolled her children in school, and teachers pitched in to help the family, bringing blankets, pillows, food and clothing. School staff kept an eye on her kids on the playground, watching for holey tennis shoes, too-tight uniforms, or short sleeves on cold days. They kept granola bars in desks for recess snacks or days when they weren’t sure what dinner awaited the family.
She learned to navigate the system. Welfare, food stamps, Medi-Cal and WIC all helped, along with collecting recycling or selling her old clothes to make ends meet. “I can’t sell the children’s clothes,” she laughs, “because there’s always a younger one who needs them.” Friends suggested she live in Tijuana, where rent is cheaper, but she wasn’t willing to risk a charge of welfare fraud.
One afternoon Gonzalez Quintana texted me, “My van was stolen with everything we own,” followed by, “Does God hate me?” The theology of why bad things happen is above my pay grade but marshalling resources is not. The community came together to help her with food, clothing, blankets, diapers, car seats, and strollers.
Soon Gonzalez Quintana and her children, including a newborn baby, settled into the Gateway Inn in San Ysidro. Although public records record it as a motel, there’s no nightly rate. Residents sign month-to-month or yearlong leases. The regulations are strict: no smoking, no noise after 10 p.m., and no playing outside. This is the hardest rule to follow: Gonzalez Quintana has nine children now, ranging from one year old to 14. They get antsy in the hot crowded room, and Rachel can’t let them outside to run off steam. Instead, they sprawl on her bed doing homework or watching TV. The older children take turns entertaining the youngest.
The Gateway Inn is more stable than living in Motel 6 or sleeping in a car, and conveniently close to the border, the trolley station, the children’s school and the dollar store. However, it isn’t always safe. One night a drunken neighbor punched through Gonzalez Quintana’s window, shattering the glass and injuring one of the children.
Both police and CPS are frequent visitors to the Gateway Inn. It isn’t a place one would happily call home.
Still, Gonzalez Quintana and other residents, including additional families with children, were dismayed to recently receive a 60-day notice to vacate so the owners can demolish the building.
An employee of the Gateway Inn, who refused to give his name in order to protect his job, speculated that the building’s owner had grown tired of dealing with residents who use drugs or owe back rent. He added that the building is old and the plumbing needs costly repairs. In his view, the owner will make more money using the land as a parking lot.
The plan to demolish the Gateway Inn may work in Gonzalez Quintana’s favor. In San Diego, single-room occupancies can’t be torn down without being replaced. Meanwhile long-term residents’ relocation costs must be paid by the building’s owners.
Even the potential of receiving relocation money gives Rachel small hope. “I really have no options,” she says. “I can’t get into a shelter unless I’m a drug addict or a victim of domestic violence. It’s easier for a sex offender to get into a shelter than it is for me and my kids. No one will rent to me because I have nine children.”
Gonzalez Quintana wants a healthier life for her children. “If I had a better place, I’d leave in a heartbeat. I’d be happy with a one-bedroom apartment, if it had a kitchen with a stove and a refrigerator.” At the same time, she’s resigned. “I wouldn’t mind staying here.” Although the Gateway isn’t much, at the moment it’s the best she’s got.
