The Notice on the Door——The Housing Crisis, Rising Rents, and Fear of Homelessness

Every time I hear a heavy footstep in the hallway, my stomach drops. I find myself staring at the front door, waiting for a piece of paper that says I have thirty days to leave. I’m not homeless yet, but I am what they call “housing insecure,” which is just a polite way of saying I’m terrified.

I work full-time. I’m a cleaner at a downtown office building. I empty the trash cans of people who make in a week what I make in two months. Yet, I can barely hold onto this two-bedroom apartment. My landlord raised the rent again this month, citing “market adjustments.” The only thing adjusting is my blood pressure. I’ve read that there’s a shortage of millions of homes in this country, and that the government is cutting funding for HUD programs. It feels like the safety net is being slashed right while we are falling.

The shelter system is overwhelmed. I hear stories about the “frozen” job market, how hard it is to get hired if you don’t have a degree. It’s true. If I lose this apartment, I lose my address. If I lose my address, I can’t keep my job. It’s a spiral that sucks you down so fast.

I try to keep the apartment spotless, as if cleaning the baseboards will convince the landlord to have mercy. But mercy doesn’t pay the mortgage. I look at my neighbors, and I see the same fear in their eyes. We are the invisible workforce that keeps this city running, yet the city seems determined to push us out. We aren’t asking for a mansion. We just want to know that when we lock the door at night, the key will still work in the morning.