If the homeless are invisible, homeless youth are doubly so. They are our teenage sons and daughters who sleep on the street or on friends’ couches-vulnerable to predators, with only other homeless kids to turn to.

It’s an experience that is painfully unique for each child, and yet the common threads of suffering, of loneliness, of trauma and abuse emerge in their stories time and again. They talk of facilities and group homes that employ coercive therapies, violence and isolation to break their spirits.

As they search for their place in the world, some struggle with addiction, mental health problems and a barrage of other complex, inter-connected issues, the roots of which can often be traced back to being abused, abandoned, rejected by those charged with loving and caring for them.

Bryant walked from Texas to Utah in hope of a college education. “You realize after you go homeless that the world is a different place,” he says.

While the Beehive State may be renowned for its generosity of spirit when it comes to giving to causes, homeless kids say they are treated with suspicion in Utah. Homeless youth are looked at as “delinquents,” says Bam, who hails from Texas. “People give you that look like they want to be nice to you. They ask, ‘How you doing?’ In reality, they don’t want nothing to do with you.”

How can we support them in their journey if we don’t even see them as they wander our streets?

These photos and words encourage us to see them for who they are and for how they see themselves--as human beings who ask for nothing but the recognition of their right to strive for happiness, health, a home and laughter. “All we basically do is try to be normal people, to do the best that we can,” Bam says.

Words by Stephen Dark.

Gabriel- 23

Gabriel came to Utah to live with his biological father when he was 19, but after a few weeks, his dad had him leave. Gabe took a duffel bag of his possessions to the Rio Grande homeless shelter, but didn’t like life there. He became a fixture at “the block,” the dangerous drug market that surrounds the shelter, where he used drugs and sold meth, heroin and crack. “I’ve seen a lot of people die of overdoses,” he says. He left behind the world of “the block” and drug use after he met his fiancée at McDonalds and had a little girl with her. Having visited his father when he was behind bars, he wants his daughter to grow up proud of him. “I don’t want my daughter seeing me how I saw my dad in jail,” he says.

“Life on the block drains you emotionally, it takes your emotions out; you don’t rely on happiness, jealousy or any emotions that you feel.”

Kent- 19

Born in a Russian orphanage, Kent and his sister were adopted by a Mormon family and brought to Utah. When Kent came out as gay to his parents as a teenager, they drew a line between their faith and his sexuality. “When I didn’t follow their rules, when I’d do my own thing, I ended up being homeless,” he says.

“I’d tell (parents) to love their kids more, you can never show them enough love.” He wants parents to know, “They are lucky to have each other. Once you get to this point where I am, you don’t get to have that back, that feeling of a whole family.”

Isadora- 21

After she was abused as a child, Isadora went through state and private facilities. She describes a journey of violence and horror. That journey taught her, she says, “You can’t trust anybody.” At age 19, she started living on the street, finding shelter in alleyways, the backseat of a car or on a friend’s couch. “You never see yourself doing things you only see others doing until you are in that low spot,” she says.

“The government long ago saw me as a lost cause. I felt I’d never be special, I’d never smile again, never laugh again, never find someone to love.”

Bam- 20

Named after a Flintstones’ character because as a child he constantly “broke stuff,” 6-year-old Bam woke up one day to find his grandmother had died next to him while they slept. He left Texas as a teenager to attend JobCorp in Clearfield, Utah, but when he learned that his beloved older sister had killed herself, he fell apart. He graduated from JobCorp and rented a room in a house near Liberty Park in Salt Lake City, only to be forced out onto the streets after the city closed the house. Then he slept in a beat-up, broken-down BMW with a friend. “It’s hard to be young,” he says.

“Everybody knows me as a goofy, loving person, but the majority of time I’m sad. I don’t like to show my emotions, I put on a mask. They don’t know what my true pain is. I don’t like opening up to people.”

Bryant- 19

When he was 15, Bryant was put out on the street of his “one-horse” Texan town by his aunt. He walked from Texas to Utah to attend college at the invitation of his uncle in Salt Lake City. It was a three-month, perilous journey he made at night, sleeping during the day. When he got to Utah, his uncle rejected him and he lived on Salt Lake’s streets. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m in this world,” he says. He lived in a tent by the Jordan river, only for snow to rip through it one night while he slept. He woke to find his fingers and toes had turned purple from frostbite.

“I learned about myself you’re only as strong as your will. As long as you have a dream you can keep going, you don’t feel lost in the world.”