Clifton Pappas, who is unhoused, has been a distributor for The Challenger newspaper for a year. He walks Austin streets wearing a black cowboy hat with a short rim and a backpack. He also carries what all distributors do: printed copies of the paper, as well as an ID badge with his photo and number, Venmo QR code, and a prepared statement explaining his work if he’s questioned by police.
“The Challenger is a voice of people on the street,” according to its website. “We are 95% homeless written.”
Pappas typically sells his papers at local businesses or sometimes delivers his “street pitch” along Congress Avenue, saying, “Hey, how you doing? You heard of The Challenger?”
“You know, just, like, the ’40s and ’50s,” Pappas said of his old-school sales method. “If you have fun with it and people see that you’re having fun with it. You’d be surprised. A lot of people have good hearts still here in Austin.”
The Challenger publishes a new paper once a month. The booklet typically features a colorful front cover with images celebrating major holidays of the month. Inside, you’ll find stories from unhoused writers about their past, injustices they face, and anecdotes from life on the street.
Once the copies are printed, distributors purchase them for a dollar and sell them for a donation, keeping the profit. About 300 to 350 copies are sold in person, while an unknown number are read online.
Valerie Romness and a group of people experiencing homelessness created The Challenger in 2011. Romness, the director and editor of the nonprofit, previously worked at a now-dissolved Austin street newspaper but had a different vision. She wanted to create a newspaper written by the homeless community instead of stories about homelessness written by housed people.
“I set it up to be empowering for those on the street,” said Romness. “I really, really, really listen to their suggestions and their ideas and work with transparency.”
While in her 30s in the 1990s, Romness befriended people experiencing homelessness on her bus route. One of them helped her get sober after she left an abusive boyfriend.
“When you know homeless people, you can’t ignore them,” she said.
The majority of The Challenger’s content is written by unhoused people. She emphasizes the importance of giving them a voice and stays removed from the writing process.
“She likes to say she’s the editor that doesn’t edit,” said Jesse Greiner, Challenger’s treasurer and a distributor, who is also experiencing homelessness.
Writers have one week to edit their own piece, while Romness focuses on creating the layout of the paper.
Julian Reyes, an unhoused activist also known as Lizard King, has been speaking out against police brutality for over a decade — after police shot his dog, Shiner Bock. He wrote about it for the April issue of The Challenger, inviting readers to a memorial for his beloved pet.
Pappas is also a regular writer for the paper. In April, he reflected on hitchhiking across several states 20 years ago to reunite with his pregnant fiancée. In other pieces, he writes about the challenges he’s faced on the streets. He said he has been robbed 12 times since arriving in Austin and has had repeated problems in cold shelters.
Writers are always encouraged to tell their personal stories.
In the December 2025 issue, Pappas wrote about his encounter with police drones. He said he had been camping near railroad tracks in a wooded area, where he regularly cleaned up after himself and the addicts who left needles near his campground.
One Sunday morning, he woke up to beeping.
“I turned and looked, and the drone was about seven feet from my head and snapped a picture, then shot up and away like a bullet, almost. Minutes later, a police unit rolls up on the street,” wrote Pappas. The Austin police department initially replied to an interview request from The Barbed Wire but did not respond when provided with specific questions.
According to Pappas, nearby residents reassured the police that he was not a drug addict, and officers left him alone.
“I tried a shelter, and I got smashed out in my sleep for snoring, and then robbed again,” Pappas said. “So, I don’t do shelters.”
He typically stays to himself and searches for places with “security and cameras and stuff, because those drug addict thieves, they stay away from those kinds of areas,” he told The Barbed Wire.
But The Challenger has helped him find people he can trust. He’s built good relationships with Greiner and Romness. He also interacts with customers daily.
“The Challenger newspaper is (a) very good, very positive paper,” said Pappas. “It’s done a lot for me, and … it’s kept my spirits up. If I didn’t have the paper, I’d just sit by myself and stay away from everybody.”
The money helps him buy his “simple pleasantries,” like the powder deodorant he prefers. It also helps buy him the tobacco he’s been addicted to since he was 7 years old.
“(The) Challenger is a very good thing for people,” Pappas said. “It gives them a chance to work. Especially, you know, you don’t have ID, you don’t have anything. It gives people a chance to make a few bucks.”
Greiner saw the benefit of the money 14 years ago when he quit his job to be a full-time distributor.
“I realized I was making more off the newspaper than I was at Arby’s,” said Greiner, “And I actually enjoy doing what I did.”
He opts for the door-to-door sales method. He has his usual neighborhoods and customers.
“Every person I meet is almost like their own little world,” Greiner said. “I’ve been doing it so long, I’ve seen families grow up, kids go to college.”
Greiner is also able to afford necessities from the money, and even a phone through the newspaper’s electronics program. After six months, writers are eligible to receive a used laptop, a tablet, or a phone donated to the newspaper.
Despite the financial benefits the newspaper has brought him, Greiner is most proud of the activist work done by the newspaper.
He said the newspaper reported on the conditions experienced during homelessness and has had demonstrable impact, including incentivizing the city to open its cold shelters sooner, at 35 degrees instead of waiting until temperatures drop below 32.
“We published about it, and we raised awareness on the street,” Romness said.
“When you’ve known street people a long time, you can see that what they’re saying is true,” she said.
