The Housing Industrial Complex Pt. 1

My housing problems started three years. It was December 2014. I was about to graduate with a Master’s degree. It was an exciting time. It had taken 2 1/2 years of sweat, tears, and sacrifice. I was finally going to be free from the rigors of graduate studies. However, I made a mistake. I didn’t have a back up plan for my after college life. I relied heavily on student loans and an on campus job for living expenses.  I was so focused on my final project for my degree, I didn’t devote enough time to job hunting. Plus, I figured I would find a job easily, anyway. I had a Master’s degree, right?

I was in for a rude awakening. I found myself dead broke when school money dried up. I lost my job since it was for students only. I applied for several jobs, but nothing came up. I couldn’t afford to pay my half of the rent with a new roommate. The roommate tried to be patient, but I knew I had to be fair and leave so they could find a more stable roommate.  It was during this time, I found out I was pregnant.  I couldn’t believe it. I was older, and never really wanted children. Also, I thought my childbearing days were almost behind me, as my cycles were thinning out.

I moved in with someone I thought was a good friend.  It turned out to be a disaster. I was living in a hostile situation and the stress was too much. I decided to give my city the finger, and move back to the south were the majority of my family resided.

It went fairly well the first couple of months. I stayed with my biological father. Soon it turned another dramatic situation. I’ll just say, I’ve gots no love for my step-mother. Four days after the birth of my son, we moved into a homeless shelter for women and children. We lived there for seven months.  I was forced out after a new director thought I should be doing X,Y,Z since I was “highly” educated compared to many of the women in the shelter. But she didn’t take into account I was a single mom with a small baby, struggling with childcare issues like most parents. I was “highly” educated in a mostly service-industry town, where most people barely had GEDs. I was seen as over-qualified. I had nowhere to live if she kicked me out. What good is a degree when you are in crisis mode?

What if the problem of poverty is that it’s profitable to other people?

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