Inside the Online Echochamber: Turning Homelessness Misinformation Into Fear, Dehumanization, and Criminalization
If you type “homeless” into YouTube’s search bar, you will likely find a viral clip of homeless people being portrayed in a negative light. These videos, often YouTube Shorts, have millions of views.
Take, for example, this viral clip by YouTuber fadithesavior, a content creator who primarily films himself serving food to homeless people. In his YouTube shorts, he paints homeless people as ungrateful and undeserving of the help he is offering. By his handle alone, it’s clear he thinks of himself as morally above those he serves.
Fadi sets the tone, and the top comments follow:
“He’s clearly not hungry enough to be grateful.”
“That boy wouldn’t have gotten a plate from me. What a pile.”
“I’ve met so many homeless people who don’t say thank you when you’re being generous, or refuse anything that isn’t cash. People like that belong there and are there for a reason.”
“These are the new breed of homeless people. I have asked if I can get you something to eat, and the homeless person gives me a custom order.”
The message here is clear. Homeless people aren’t allowed to express frustration, don’t deserve to have a choice, and are considered less than.
There are countless YouTube Shorts just like this. A man in crisis on a subway car. A woman pleading as sanitation workers throw her belongings into a truck. Again and again, people are recorded at their lowest moments — and judged in real time by an audience that knows nothing about them.
While the scenarios may be different, the overall message is always the same: homeless people are portrayed as ungrateful, lazy, unpredictable, or even scary. We forget that homeless people are people with emotions, with rights, and deserving of dignity like everyone else. When anti-homeless messaging is this loud, it leaves no room for anything else. The videos set the tone, and the anti-homeless comments quickly follow.
These comments echo the same messages, and they are the ones pinned to the top, rising through hundreds of likes and replies. Viewers can also pay content creators to have their comments featured at the top, giving their message even more power. The overwhelming popularity of such comments speaks volumes as well.
Beyond Viral Clips: Zombie Content
There is an even darker side to this. Twenty-four-hour livestreams from Kensington, Philadelphia, and Skid Row in Los Angeles broadcast unhoused people with substance use disorders to millions. Many of these channels use the word “Zombie” in their titles. And what message does that send? That homeless people are not human. That people who are sick are not human.
These streams are faceless and voiceless, offering no context. Instead, the camera runs, offering no privacy or dignity to those who are not only suffering through withdrawals but dying.
“Creators make hundreds of thousands of dollars a month pushing this content,” said Mark Horvath, founder of Invisible People. “Millions of people watch every day, and it’s shaping harmful beliefs about homelessness and homeless people.”
Just like viral clips, the comments flood in, further perpetuating harmful beliefs about homelessness and homeless people, cementing anti-homeless rhetoric.
In Philadelphia Magazine, reporter Victor Fiorillo dives into the comments section of these streams: “As I’m writing this, there are 402 people watching one stream,” he writes. “Another 150 are watching the second. The third has about 80 viewers. And people aren’t just watching. They’re communicating in a chat window next to the livestream. Some make jokes or other insensitive remarks about the people in the videos. The chatters nickname people they see in the stream, often using racially insensitive monikers.”
“The channel has some 42,000 subscribers,” he continued. “You can also buy a membership to the stream for 99 cents each month. This gives you access to various unspecified perks. Then there’s the $9.99 monthly membership, which allows you to view the countless hours of archival footage from Kensington. And there’s plenty of advertising. Meaning YouTube is allowing whoever is behind the channel (and it’s not clear exactly who that is) to monetize human suffering with these videos that depict people who don’t even realize they’re being depicted.”
The fact that this is possible at all speaks volumes about the lack of legal protection homeless people have from exploitation and the sheer amount of wealth that can be accumulated from that exploitation.
The Anti-Homeless Ecosystem
Taken together, the viral clips and livestreams reveal something bigger: these aren’t isolated posts—they’re the gateway to a coordinated anti-homeless ecosystem. Social media has become an echochamber for this rhetoric, and these loud, visible voices are only one piece of a much broader machine.
What happens online doesn’t stay online. The majority of content about homelessness now traffics in the same stereotypes—anger, fear, disgust—and the repetition of these messages has consequences. The narratives seeded in a viral clip, then amplified by comments, start to shape how viewers interpret homelessness in their own neighborhoods. Over time, people begin to see their unhoused neighbors through the distorted lens they’ve absorbed on social media: as drug addicts, mentally ill, irresponsible, or dangerous.
This shift in perception doesn’t just change how individuals think; it reshapes communities. When enough people internalize these messages, fear and distrust grow. And when fear grows, policymakers respond. What begins as a viral moment becomes public sentiment; what becomes public sentiment becomes pressure on local officials; and that pressure often turns into policy: homeless encampments are swept, criminalization laws are put in place, and homeless people are arrested for simply trying to survive outside.
These policy decisions, fueled by fear and the anti-homeless rhetoric, push us further away from evidence-based solutions.
From Digital Hate to Real-World Harm
The consequences of anti-homeless rhetoric—and the criminalization policies that follow—are far more debilitating than a simple arrest record. They reverberate through every part of a person’s life.
Take homeless sweeps, for example. On their own, they are profoundly destabilizing events. During a sweep, people lose the basic shelter that protects them from the elements: tents, bedding, blankets, and anything else used to stay warm. They also lose the items that help them survive or rebuild their lives—life-saving medications, personal mementos, and critical documents such as IDs, Social Security cards, and birth certificates. Without these, escaping homelessness becomes even harder.
Sweeps also sever relationships with outreach workers. When people are displaced with no phone, no transportation, and no way to be found, service providers, including medical teams, cannot follow up. Treatment plans are interrupted. Medication refills lapse. Housing navigation stops. Each lost connection pushes people further from stability and deeper into crisis.
The Truth Isn’t Being Heard
When anti-homeless rhetoric is amplified by creators, comments, and algorithms, the truth struggles to get any traction. This misinformation doesn’t just distort perception; it drowns out the data-driven strategies that actually reduce homelessness.
More people are seeing YouTube Shorts of upset, distressed homeless people and the anti-homeless rhetoric that comes with them. Far fewer are seeing how communities are working tirelessly to end homelessness or the solutions that actually work, backed by data and supported by experts.
We know that housing people is the first and best solution, and there’s mounting evidence to support this. We know that preventing homelessness with quick, responsive direct cash assistance keeps young people and their families in their homes. But the anti-homeless ecosystem, led by viral videos, is pushing us in the opposite direction. The “Recovery First” movement undermines evidence-based solutions, all while the Trump Administration continues to attack Housing First initiatives.
“And we need to be honest about something else: this won’t end when Trump leaves office,” Mark said. “Forced treatment and criminalization are now bipartisan ideas. Democrats and Republicans are both pushing them. Political power will shift, but it’s not going to change how the public feels about addiction, mental health, and homelessness.”
The time to counter the nonstop misinformation is now, before it’s too late.
This is Part 5 of a six-part Invisible People series on the media ecosystem driving anti-homeless rhetoric. In Part 6 of this series, we offer a dignity-first roadmap for journalists, creators, and community members to replace exploitative narratives.
Here are links to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4. Please share this series and help us make the truth louder!