Andrea Woodley’s doctors were blunt: without safe housing, she could die. Then they discharged her to sleep rough in central Perth.

The 39-year-old First Nations woman has been cycling in and out of Armadale hospital for weeks with septicemia, triggered by infected blisters on her feet — a direct consequence of sleeping on the streets. The infection has spread to her heart and lungs. Her mother, Heather Taylor, was told by doctors that the bacteria had reached the left chamber of Woodley’s heart. She also has bacterial pneumonia.

“The doctor said you could die,” Taylor recalled telling her daughter. “So I’m telling you to be very careful.”

Woodley is a Noongar, Budimaya and Nyikina woman. She has been homeless since 2023, when her Broome home — in Western Australia’s remote Kimberley region — was firebombed by a violent stalker. She fled roughly 2,000 kilometers south to Perth and has been sleeping rough ever since.

She was approved for a public housing transfer to Perth in November 2023 and placed on the priority waiting list. When advocate Dr Betsy Buchanan contacted the WA housing department about Woodley’s deteriorating health, she was told the wait could still be another two years — even with medical letters from Woodley’s doctors describing the urgency.

“They’ve just got a stock answer that ‘everyone on the priority list is the same,’ and they don’t make any exception to the fact that a First Nation person might be dying,” said Buchanan, a lawyer with Daydawn, a Catholic advocacy organization supporting First Nations people.

A Queue With No End

The WA Department of Housing and Works said in a statement that priority waiting lists are long and that it is “difficult to determine how long it would take for a suitable property to become available.” All applicants on the priority list “have demonstrated an urgent need for housing,” the department said.

Woodley was a public housing tenant between 2008 and 2023. After the fire, the department said her Broome home was inspected and deemed habitable, but Woodley had already been approved for a transfer to Perth. Being approved for a transfer means being placed on a waiting list — not being offered a property.

The collision between medical necessity and housing supply is not unique to Woodley, but it carries particular weight for First Nations Australians. Last month, Guardian Australia reported that a Noongar woman died of sepsis weeks after giving birth — and two months after being evicted from public housing.

Last week, the WA government announced it would ban “no ground” evictions, a policy that has disproportionately affected First Nations households. Campaigner Jesse Noakes of End Unfair Evictions said the state government had evicted hundreds of families from public housing without grounds at the end of fixed-term tenancies.

A Room of Her Own

Since her discharge from hospital, Woodley’s phone was stolen, leaving her uncontactable. Taylor, who lives in Derby, 2,000 kilometers from her daughter, said she fears every ring will bring bad news.

Woodley cannot walk properly on her infected feet, making her more vulnerable to violence on the streets. She tries to sleep where there are cameras and bright lights, and to reach shelters early enough to secure a spot. Taylor said her daughter — mother to five children — has already experienced trauma and violence while homeless. The family has endured intergenerational harm, including forced removal of children, the loss of a sibling, and chronic housing instability.

The ask, though, is modest.

“She just says ‘all I want is a room of my own, with my little TV,’” Taylor said. “I know that she will get better if she was to have that. That’s all she wants.”

Sources