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Summers are always hot in Tucson, but 2023 came with 89 days that reached 100 degrees or higher. The years that followed weren’t much better — 112 days in 2024 and 78 days in 2025.
Gator-Aid started as a summertime resource, volunteers pulling wagons through downtown Tucson, handing out water, food, hygiene products, first-aid and other supplies to anyone who needed it. The volunteers showed up every Sunday that summer — and then through fall, winter, spring and summer again. They haven’t missed a Sunday since that summer of 2023.
That was also Isabel Schwartz’s first summer in Tucson. As the temperatures climbed, she saw our unhoused neighbors sitting outside in the sweltering heat. She saw the suffering right in front of her — and she felt powerless.
When Isabel saw an Instagram post about Gator-Aid — which was spearheaded by people from mutual-aid groups like Community Care Tucson, Community On Wheels and ALMA — she signed up to volunteer and showed up the following Sunday.
“The whole idea with mutual aid is solidarity, not charity. We’re out there with our neighbors, we’re just friends helping neighbors, neighbors helping neighbors,” Isabel says. “No one is getting paid for this, no one is ‘gaining’ anything from this other than the rich and beautiful experiences we have in community with each other.”
Gator-Aid packs their wagons every Sunday afternoon and volunteers make their way through downtown and Fourth Avenue, meeting people where they are.
“It’s a labor of love by a lot of hands which is really beautiful,” Isabel says. “It’s a little parade of people coming through the community just sharing what they have with each other and doing their best to show up.”
It’s thanks to people like author Courtney Gustafson who uses her platform to advocate for groups like Gator-Aid. It’s thanks to artists like Derek and Ben from SoGayCrochet who donate a percentage of plushie proceeds to mutual-aid groups. It’s thanks to people like Isabel who received her Wilderness EMT certification to help unhoused neighbors with first-aid.
More than anything, it’s thanks to the individual people who spend their afternoons making sandwiches, who pull wagons through streetcar tracks in Tucson heat, who spend their own limited incomes to buy supplies for those in need.
“Gator-Aid is one of the most rewarding things I’ve gotten to be a part of. I could talk for hours about how much I love the folks involved in it and the folks we spend time with every week in the community,” Isabel says. “I think that’s what people tend to undervalue — they love telling us, the ones pulling the wagons, ‘You guys are doing amazing!’ but we’re just there to spend time with the people we care about.”
The group usually starts their Sundays around noon or 1 p.m. on Fourth Avenue and spends a few hours walking through downtown, ending at the Ronstadt Center. Sometimes they end around 4 p.m. — other times they go until sunset. Gator-Aid serves about 100-120 people each Sunday, though there’s a lot more need than that.
“There are all kinds of statistics I could share about how hard life is for unhoused neighbors but I don’t think you have to be in Tucson long to see that and to see the toll that living on the streets in such rough conditions has. It’s brutal,” Isabel says.
A little relief
In early 2025, 2,218 people in Pima County experienced sheltered and unsheltered homelessness, according to the Tucson Pima Collaboration to End Homelessness’ point-in-time count. The one-day snapshot counted 942 people in some sort of shelter while 1,276 were unsheltered. The count was conducted on a single night in January 2025 and included Catalina and Ajo for the first year.
“The city is progressing in a direction that makes it more difficult with the anti-camping-in-washes ordinance and now they’re considering an ordinance to go after folks that police suspect of using drugs,” Isabel says. “It’s illegal for folks to be on the medians, but maybe that dollar or two — it’s not going to buy someone a house but it might get them a water bottle.”
Tucson’s 2025 point-in-time count was about 5.5% higher than 2024 which counted 2,102 people — that included 821 people in some sort of shelter and 1,281 unsheltered.
“A huge problem in Tucson is when we do have shelter beds, what we don’t talk about is people have to leave behind their pets, their belongings and follow these incredibly strict and sometimes punitive schedules to line up for a chance of a bed. That’s not dignity, that’s not giving people the respect and autonomy we give housed people,” Isabel says.
According to the National Alliance to End Homelessness, nationwide homelessness increased 18% between 2023 and 2024 from 653,104 to 771,480 people.
“We need to meet more people where they’re at and not impose barriers,” Isabel says. “Your unhoused neighbors are not your enemy. We’re all closer to being unhoused than we are to being Jeff Bezos. It’s not the person, it’s the system.”
Gator-Aid doesn’t just help unhoused neighbors — the mutual-aid group has also found itself helping more and more people who are housed but might not have enough money to get a bite to eat.
“And that’s not good enough either,” Isabel says, adding that mutual-aid groups have seen an anecdotal uptick in people requesting services compared to previous years. “We’re offering a little bit of relief, which doesn’t change any of the systemic issues and we recognize that, but I think Gator-Aid is choosing to exist in a world where we show up with what we have and do the best we can.”
Love, care and community
The reality is, Gator-Aid shouldn’t have to exist, but it does — and its members will keep showing up every Sunday, just as they’ve done for years.
“We hear every week from folks that they look forward to us, that this might be the highlight of their week. We might be the only people who are housed who are looking them in the eye and spending time with them,” Isabel says. “There’s something really powerful and beautiful about looking at every single person you see as a neighbor and someone you’re in community with. To me, that’s why Gator-Aid is so important. We offer a little bit of relief and a whole lot of care.”
While you can volunteer with Gator-Aid on Sundays, that’s not necessarily what mutual aid has to look like for you.
“That can be a water bottle and a Clif bar in your car to hand out to someone,” Isabel says. “It can be having a conversation with an unhoused person who is sitting on the street. It can be sharing what you have whether it’s a dollar or a smile or some warm socks.”
The work of Gator-Aid and other mutual-aid groups is hard. It’s hard to see people living outside in Tucson summers, it’s hard to see people without a blanket in Tucson winters. But it’s even harder for the people living those realities.
Through Gator-Aid, Isabel also sees so much hope and care. She sees our unhoused neighbors picking up trash when volunteers start to give out food each Sunday. She hears them when they say, “Can I take a hygiene bag for my friend who is sick and asleep right now?”
People might only take what they need from a hygiene bag and give the rest back. When food is handed out, sometimes they’ll say, “No thanks, that’s more than I could eat.”
“People are really cognizant that there are other folks on the street who might need more than they do. That is something people tend to forget,” Isabel says. “Yeah, people need stuff and that’s valid and that’s real, but they’re also looking out for each other. I see more community on the streets than I do in many spaces in Tucson.”
“To me, Gator-Aid is the heart of my Tucson experience,” Isabel says. “I wish everyone could experience the love that Gator-Aid brings into my life.”
❤️ To volunteer with Gator-Aid, fill out this form. You can make a donation via Venmo to @gatoraidtucson or make a purchase from the group’s Amazon wishlist. For more information, visit Gator-Aid’s Instagram. ❤️
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