In August 2016, I moved in with a friend. The end of 2014/ all of 2015 had been a chaotic/scary time of running around trying to secure stable housing while raising a new baby.
I also got a job. It was an opportunity given to me after successfully completing a class on poverty. The organizer arranged for graduates to meet with human resources at a local business, and we were interviewed on the spot.
The next eight months were pretty uneventful. I tried to make the most out of my employment situation. It wasn’t ideal for me. I was grossly underpaid for my education/background, but since I was in a town fueled by hospitality dollars…the job was as good as it was going to get. At the very least, the job made it able for my son and I to survive.
More than 20 percent of Americans spend over half their income each week on rent, a number that continues to rise, recession or not. https://newrepublic.com/article/132159/americas-eviction-epidemic
Then one morning in March 2017, I was preparing to go to work. My roommate sat on the couch with a grimace on her face. I asked her what was wrong. She stated the night before, she had accidentally fallen against the window while trying to put on her shoes. My roommate had poor health/bad knee problems, so it was difficult for her to stand without support. She miscalculated leaning her arm against the wall, and instead pushed her arm through the window. It had broken. She had cuts all over her arm. We chuckled about it, because we often poked fun how clumsy she was.
Neither one of us thought more about it. She stated she would let the manager know what happened and I hurried off to work. Later, that day, I received a text message from my roommate. The manager had been angry about the broken window and wanted to evict us. I was floored. Why would she do that? It was an accident.
When I returned home from work, my roommate explained to me that the manager believed the window had been broken on purpose. She alleged it had been broken in a fight. We couldn’t believe it. The manager maintained other tenants had told her that there had been a loud ruckus the night the window was broken. Supposedly, my roommate (who could barely get around most times without her breathing machine), had been in a knock down/drag out fight with a mysterious someone, as she couldn’t describe what the person looked like.
The fight was to have started down the hill near the manager’s apartment, yet she admitted she hadn’t heard anything. Then the alleged fight had moved back up the hill, near our apartment, and that’s when the window was broken.
“If incarceration had come to define the lives of men from impoverished black neighborhoods, eviction was shaping the lives of women,” Desmond writes. “Poor black men were locked up. Poor black women were locked out.” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/eviction-matthew-desmond-book_us_56e996e3e4b065e2e3d82403