inside chicago s silent housing crisis

Inside Chicago's Silent Housing Crisis Experts say an eviction avalanche is coming. But thousands of Chicago renters have already been pushed to the brink of the housing clif.

BY JUSTIN AGRELO, NATALIE FRAZIER, MALIK JACKSON, AND WOOJAE JULIA SONG, CITY BUREAU

Te Housing Clif is a special series about the COVID-19 housing crisis produced by City Bureau, a civic journalism lab based in Chicago.

Andre Wallace* has wanted to move for months. Te West Garfeld Park apartment he shares with his partner and their two small children is falling apart. Te young couple didn’t even have a usable kitchen the frst two months of living there. Water pours from the ceiling whenever it rains, causing debris to fall into the apartment. Te bathwater sometimes runs brown— when it runs at all.

Wallace has struggled to get his landlord to fx anything. He’s been tempted to report the egregious building code violations to the city, especially in his bouts of frustration with the place. But he’s always chosen to cut the owners some slack—exchanging idle threats for empty promises.

“He kept saying ‘work with me, work with me.’ And I'm young, so I'm working with him,” Wallace said about his landlord. “And nothing.”

After his ceiling began caving in and a bad stumble down the building’s crumbling porch nearly put him out of work, Wallace decided enough was enough. It was time to move. Ten the COVID-19 pandemic hit.

Wallace’s hours were cut at the Mercedes Benz dealership where he’s been working for years. Ten his partner lost her job at Dunkin’ Donuts—both a direct result of the pandemic’s impact on Chicago’s economy where thousands of jobs have disappeared, at least 3,200 businesses have permanently shuttered and lower-income households like Wallace’s were hit hardest.

When the beginning of May rolled around, the young couple knew they wouldn’t be able to make their rent. “We was nervous,” Wallace remembers. “But then again, I've bypassed calling the city and reporting so much, I'm like maybe the landlord will work with us.”

Two months later, on July 10, 2020, Wallace’s landlord fled to evict the young family. It wasn’t until Wallace received a letter from City Bureau reporters in October that he learned of it.

Wallace was among over 1,500 Chicagoans who were hit with a residential eviction fling after the shelter-in-place was implemented on March 21, 2020. Despite the statewide ban on evictions, landlords are still fling paperwork to oust renters who pose “a direct threat to the health and safety of other tenants” or “an immediate and severe risk to property.” Wallace and at least six other people we spoke with for this project say they believe they were hit with a fling because they owed rent, not because of health and safety concerns.

For months, housing advocates have warned of a looming eviction crisis where as many as thirty-one percent of Illinois residents could be evicted once local, state, and federal protections expire. But while the moratorium has reduced eviction flings by seventy-seven percent, it hasn’t stopped landlords from forcing tenants out through more aggressive means such as illegal lockouts, harassment, or threats of violence. For undocumented immigrants, who are often afraid to assert their housing rights for fear of getting deported or caught in the criminal justice system, the stakes are even higher. (Learn more in "No Safety Net," page 8)

“People are already leaving,” said Moises Moreno, director of the Pilsen Alliance, which connects residents to emergency housing, food and other social services. “Tere's already displacement happening. You don’t have to wait ‘til the courts reopen.”

Tenants who have lost their sources of income during the pandemic have few options when it comes to cash assistance. When the Chicago Department of Housing opened its frst round of rental assistance last spring, 83,000 people applied for just two thousand grants. Whether grant programs were government-run or cobbled together by grassroots mutual aid groups, the demand has far outpaced the supply. Last fall, City Bureau reporters set out to speak with Chicagoans like Wallace—folks who are being sued in eviction court or otherwise forced out of their homes during an unprecedented global pandemic and economic crisis. Our goal was to learn and document what the so-called “eviction avalanche” looks like in material terms for everyday people in a city with an especially dark history of racist housing practices. For many working-class and lower-income Black and brown tenants like Wallace, this is not news: Te pandemic has only exacerbated an ongoing housing crisis.

In several of the stories that follow, we changed people’s names at their request. Some worried about retaliation from their landlords. Others feared the public shame that is often placed on poor and working-class people who are down on their luck and just trying to survive. Tese names have been marked with an asterisk.

* Received 83,000 in a first round and 13,300 in a second round; some households may have applied in both rounds ** As of January 28, 2021

We heard stories of struggle and loss. We learned how an eviction fling can be weaponized against tenants, often without their knowledge. How easily people fell through the cracks of an inefective eviction ban and inadequate support systems. How one missed rent payment can devastate an entire family, tossing them into an underbelly of housing instability where survival means cramming into a small, overpriced hotel room with four other people at a time when we were told to keep our distance.

And like many Chicago stories, we also heard examples of ingenuity and resourcefulness. We spoke with community groups and public ofcials who are actively working toward solutions—whether through legislation, tenant organizing, direct service or activism. We witnessed people refuse to give in to despair despite the incredible odds stacked against them. Most of the people we spoke with remained hopeful that better days would soon arrive— either through political will or their own genius.

Here are seven of those stories, as told to City Bureau reporters. Tese interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.

how we reported this story

City Bureau identified 445 tenants who had a pending case in eviction court, using court records obtained from the Cook County Clerk of the Circuit Court. We mailed each renter a letter informing them of the filing and asked if they’d share their story with us. We also surveyed people in line at the DMV and created a social media campaign where people could sign up to speak with a City Bureau reporter. In the end, our team spoke with thirty-two Chicago residents who were threatened with housing insecurity due to COVID-19. Most were facing negligent conditions at home—from the minor (occasional pests) to the more severe (black mold). The majority of people we spoke with identified as either Black or Latinx, twenty of them were women, and all of them had experienced some sort of financial or personal hardship that was directly related to the pandemic.

Andre*: West Garfeld Park

Igrew up on the West Side of Chicago. Born and raised. I’ve never been afliated with any gangs or anything like that. I've tried my best to stay clean. I've been working at the same job for about six years. My partner was working for Dunkin’ Donuts. She was there for like, two, three years. And I've been working for the car dealership. My life was fne. I mean, I was twenty-two, twenty-three years old with two kids. It's not the best thing to do at that age, but I was making a living for me and mine.

I found this apartment through my auntie, who stays downstairs on the frst foor. She’s been there for ffteen years. I was looking for a place to stay and just raise me and my little family, you know? After I signed my lease and gave this man my money, I actually went all the way into my auntie’s apartment [for the frst time]. She’s seventy-eight years old and she had no ceiling in her bathroom or kitchen due to water damage. Tey still come and collect $800 from her every month knowing the condition of the apartment.

I started running into problems when I kept paying the owner’s son all of my money, and this guy wasn't coming to my house to fx anything. Every time I say I’m going to call and report this to the city, she'll promise me, saying “Oh, I’m going to do this for you and do that for you.” And then I fall into the trap. I'll pay her rent and then I won't see her again. So it comes to a point where I'm like, OK, I'm gonna take $100 from the rent, and I'm going to repair what I need inside the apartment. Some days I can't put my kids in the tub because we don't get no water out of the pipe. We get brown water some days. We get no water some days.

I was planning on moving out at the beginning of [2020]. But then COVID hit and I literally got stuck here. Nobody's showing apartments or things like that. Tings got hard. My hours got cut. My girlfriend lost her job and then everything was just left on me. She can't work now because somebody’s got to be home with the e-learning.

Eventually, I fell behind on rent. It was like, OK I’m going to pay rent or I’m going to buy food and try to survive out here. It was hard. I'm the only one working, trying to pay the rent, the light bill, keep our phones on.

By the time I heard about the housing grants, it was too late. Te landlady called me and asked me if I could apply for it. Why would I apply to give you a $5,000 grant when you’re not doing what you're supposed to do with the money that you're getting now—money that you're stealing from me and my auntie every month? It didn't make sense to me.

I didn't know anything about the [eviction] fling before you sent me the letter. Tat was the frst time I've received anything about that. We shouldn't have to be penalized due to COVID-19—something that we didn't have nothing to do with. I think they should give a rent forgiveness program. Tey should hold of on eviction notices for working families who are trying to make a living. But then you also have landlords who just use and abuse their tenants.

Sandra*: Belmont Cragin

My fve-year-old is in kindergarten. He's in speech therapy. My daughter has ADHD. She's not able to control herself at times. I'm a mom that’s constantly behind my kids. If they get in trouble, I'm there. If they need a feld trip, I'm there.

Tey’re doing the e-learning thing when they didn't even have laptops. My son is doing his homework on his phone. Two of my kids are teenagers. Tey don't really want to do the work. I've been having arguments with them. I tell them, you have to fnish your school. It's something good for you. Maybe if I would have listened to my parents and stayed in school, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

A lot of things have happened. I lost hours at work. You know how these places are. If there’s no customers, they send you home. My boss was like, “You’re a good worker. You just have bad luck.” My husband was out of work for four months. It was hard for him to fnd a job. I can’t rely on him. He always loses his jobs because he’s not from here. He’s trying to legalize his citizenship.

Tat house was falling apart and [the landlord] never did nothing to make it better. I rented the frst foor. My light and gas were also connected to the basement unit but [the landlord] never gave me money for that. Tat left me in debt for $3,000. I tried talking to him about it and he's like, “now you're gone, so we don't have to discuss anything.”

I lost my apartment because I wasn't able to pay my rent. I had to go and live with one of my sisters-in-law. I wasn't evicted. I just received this phone call saying that they were going to come and kill me and my family if I didn't give them the money. Te frst one to receive messages like this was my husband, then my son, then me. I fled a police report. I changed our phone numbers. I was afraid for my life, honestly, because you don't know if it's a joke or not.

I was like, OK, what the heck? What's going on? Why is this happening to me? What did I do? I'm a working person—I work and work and still, it's hard. It's hard.

When I left that apartment, I left it nice. When I went back for my stuf, it was all dirty and flthy. I had to get rid of a lot. Right now, I only have like $50. I have to buy a curtain for my new apartment. I don't have sofas. I have a dining room set, but it's falling apart. I have maybe three or four dishes. My kids need jackets, and I’m thinking, “Where am I going to get this?”

I tried to reach out to so many organizations. I said, “I want nothing for me. I just want stuf for my babies.”

I have a house now. I thank God, my son was working. He was working at Domino’s. He helped me out with $1,300. I’m proud of him. I’m like, “Baby, I’ll pay you back when I get my taxes.” And he’s like, “It’s fne, mom. Whenever you can.” He’s motivated to go to college to be a paramedic. He’s always encouraging me and I'm blessed for that. He tells me, “One day, you will stop working and just enjoy life. One day, you will have your own house, your own place, by yourself. Tat’s why I’m going to school. I’m going to make you proud, mom.”

Ruth*: North Lawndale

The apartment is falling apart. When I frst moved in, [the landlord] wouldn’t even change my carpet. Tere’s mildew. Tere’s plumbing issues. Electricity issues. With the plumbing issues, I have to wait 30 minutes to an hour to take a shower. One day the water is warm, one day it’s cold. All these issues and you’re harassing me about rent?

Even before COVID-19, I never saw my landlord. Only time I see him or hear from him [is when] the guy downstairs needs something to be fxed or he’s coming to get mail. Te only reason I took this apartment is because he made promises. He told me everything is going to be done. But he hasn’t done anything.

I lost my job due to the COVID-19. My landlord couldn’t understand that, so he gave me a fve-day [eviction] notice. I haven’t been back to work since. I told him I applied for the rental assistance and he had to do his part. I guess he didn’t want to do his part. He just wants me out of his apartment.

I explained to him that I don’t have the funds to move out. Next thing you know, I’m getting a postcard in the mail saying he’s suing me. It got to the point that he turned my hot water of. I reached out to the city and he turned it back on.

I’m trying to leave anyway. It’s too much going on with this apartment. It’s falling apart. I know it’s going to be hard to get an apartment with him putting this eviction on my record. I’m tired of living like this with my kids. I have a little baby that’s four years old. I want my kids to be comfortable. I’m willing to move because I don’t want to go through the eviction process. I just need help.

Kim*: Kenwood Oakland

CW: this section contains details about sexual assault

Iwas born in Atlanta and raised in Louisiana. I'm a Southern girl. I moved up here at eighteen to go to college. I transferred into UIC with hella credits as a Black person in STEM. I couldn't really aford school. I fgured I’d fnd the money but that didn't happen.

I ended up sufering [sexual] assault that set me back a lot mentally. I wasn't performing well in my classes. Subsequently, I couldn't pay for school or to stay on campus. I talked to deans. I talked to professors. I told them my story and everything. And there was no [solution] for what was going on.

I couldn’t go back home. At the time, my mom was also sufering from houselessness. She was trying to fgure out her own situation. She got me in contact with a relative up here who lives on the West Side in Austin. I ended up leaving UIC and staying with my family and sleeping on their couch for like four months. My stuf was in boxes. I was still recovering from being assaulted.

I [later] moved into a basement apartment in Kenwood Oakland. From the very frst day that I moved in, there were issues with the apartment. Te countertops were horrible. Te cabinets were falling of the wall. Tere was water damage, gaps in the cabinetry near the foor where mice could crawl in—all types of shit. Mold started developing in the bathroom around the one-year mark. I would call them to come fx the mold. And they would come out and paint over it with mold paint. I was sneezing a lot.

In July or August, a smell started developing in one of the three rooms. It was mildew. Te smell was so bad that the person who stayed in the room couldn’t stay there anymore. Te apartment was afecting our health. We were in there coughing and sneezing all the time. We couldn't breathe well. I was like, OK, I'm not fnna do this. At the end of August, I'm like, I'm not gonna pay rent for September because you haven't fxed anything. Te property manager said after I fx this stuf, we're gonna raise your rent to $1,300. And I'm like, you're not gonna raise my rent for this apartment to $1,300 from $865? Have you lost your mind?

Eventually, I went on an apartment search. Te city [rental assistance] application was closed before I could apply. I left my job when my hours were signifcantly reduced; pandemic jobs are scarce. I ended up doing a GoFundMe. Tat was a really big thing for me to ask people for help. I'm a person who's never asked for help. Despite everything that I've told you—being assaulted twice, being homeless, having issues surrounding housing—I've never said I need this or I need that. I just have handled it on my own.

I loved the neighborhood in my old apartment. I'd been in that neighborhood for so long. I was super sad to leave. But I like the neighborhood I'm in now [Washington Park]. I love my new apartment. I feel comfortable and free. I like how responsive the people are. Now I'm in a space where if I'm coughing and sneezing, it’s not because of mold or mildew, it’s because maybe the neighbor was smoking, you know? And that's a little bit diferent to handle.

I'm still in school. I'm playing catch-up in my classes. I was so focused on trying to get a safe place to live that my classes sufered. And I got counseling. I'm at a better place now. But I also have a lot of school anxiety. I'm studying integrated health science with a minor in chemistry. I want to be a doctor. Tis entire time—from when I was eighteen to twenty-four—I went to school every single semester even if I failed my classes, even if I was homeless or I was sufering from depression. I still went to school. All of this is testimony to how anybody can do something if they put their mind to it.

“This pandemic, it’s a hard thing. It’s something we ain’t never seen before. The government should step in and not let the landlords do us like this. It’s not our fault we lost our income due to the virus.”

Graciela: Brighton Park

It’s been more than two years since I moved in. Being on the frst foor is perfect for me. It's hard for me to go up and down the stairs. I have asthma. I live with my granddaughter, my granddaughter's girlfriend and my granddaughter’s girlfriend's son. Tey worry about me, you know. I had a neardeath experience a few years back. Tey had to perform emergency surgery. Tey said that I had died on the table and they had to bring me back.

I always was on time with the [rent] money. I worked with UPS for almost 16 years. I get a pension. It’s a small one, but it helps me to buy the necessary stuf—bathroom tissues, shampoo.

Te bathroom had a broken window, and I've had to use plastic in the winter to cover up the cold coming in. Te pests, it's year-round. Te ceiling is always throwing water into my room. In the winter, they have to put an electric heater in the bedroom. Tey [my landlords] always say, “Don't worry about it. We'll take care of it.” Tat's all I get. Promises, promises, promises. And to this day, I haven't gotten anything done.

In July, I ofered [one of] my landlords, who is an older woman, to make the repairs in the apartment by using some of the rent money, and giving her the remaining balance plus receipts. She says, "No, I don't want that… if you don't give me the rent then I want you to move.” I looked at her, like, what? Are you seriously telling me you want me to leave because I ofered to fx the apartment? I just don't get it. I've been waiting on you to fx the apartment for two years. You're more interested in the money than helping out your tenant. At that point, I started withholding rent.

About ten days later, she gave me a fveday notice. I got a letter from the court a couple of days ago for my eviction court date. Because of the coronavirus, it's through an online video connection. My landlord did not even tell me that she was going to evict me.

I'm afraid that the judge is gonna tell us that we have to leave. We don't have anywhere to go. I mean, I like this house very much. If that goes on my credit report, I'm screwed. I cannot get put out on the street.

I didn’t have a lawyer. I was expecting to be able to say something when the judge called out my case. And instead, the opposing attorney was the one talking and I didn’t get a chance to really say anything. She [the judge] just asked me who I was and where I live and then that was it. I think we were only on camera for ffteen, twenty minutes. It was quick. Before I knew it, she said she wanted to continue the case [on a later date].

Just recently, they turned of the furnace in the basement, so now, I'm using our stove to warm up the house. Yesterday, I noticed water was coming down into my bedroom again. Tis year alone, I've had water come into my room about four times.

I reminded her that this is what I wanted to be taken care of before it got out of control. I asked you if I could do the repairs and you told me that you’d rather see me move. You've made this situation bad, not me. I ofered to help you and you asked me to leave.

Mattice: Morgan Park

We were staying with family members here and there. I have a couple sisters here in Illinois. Tey had their own rules and it was just time for us to leave. Tere was a lot of pressure for me to hurry up and fnd something. When you’re under pressure with three kids and a wife, you don’t have no other choice. We was out on the street at the time.

Ten we found a place. My landlord was a friend. He went to the same school I went to. He knew the same people I knew. He said he had a house for rent, so I moved in. It was fve people in a two-bedroom house. We stayed there for almost two years. I can show you pictures of all kinds of craziness. Te sink was leaking. Te ceiling had water damage and was falling of on the kids’ heads. Te back door didn’t have glass in the windows. It was wrapped in plastic. Tings like that. It was very, very uncomfortable.

I’m a truck driver. Before the pandemic came, my rent and everything was paid. We was fne. I was making a substantial amount of money; they wouldn’t even let me apply for food stamps. Ten the truck business started drying up. A lot of drivers didn’t have no work throughout the pandemic.

I got let go around March or April. Te frst time I missed rent was in May. I called him and said, “Hey man, I’m laid of. It’s going to be hard for me to pay rent this month. Let me try to at least pay something next month.” He didn’t even say anything. Ten two or three weeks later, he said he fled the eviction. Said the sherif was going to come and serve me some eviction papers. He didn’t try to work anything out. Tat’s what was so strange about it. I missed only a month going into the second month. Tere’s some people who miss longer than that.

“I got a letter from the court a couple of days ago for my eviction court date. Because of the coronavirus, it's through an online video connection. My landlord did not even tell me that she was going to evict me.”

I was surprised. As a friend, you know I've got three kids and a wife. You know COVID-19 hurt a lot of people. You know that. Why would you do this? Ten you want to make it harder for me to get a new place to live. How can I move from your house when you put an eviction on my name, making it harder for me to get a new place to live? You know, they look at that. But he looked at it as a business, not a friendship.

Now we’re staying in a hotel. We’ve been staying in and out of hotels since then. I had to leave some of our stuf. Our stove, refrigerator, clothes, food, you know. I don't know what happened to it. Maybe he kept it.

Te hotel room is small. It’s only two beds. Five people with two beds in one room. Me and my wife sleep on the foor. I can’t let my kids sleep on the foor. When we frst moved in, the room was like $112 a day. But since I’ve been there for a while, they dropped the taxes and the room price. Tey were more lenient with me.

My wife wasn’t working. Tat’s what made it even harder. Unemployment was just half of my paycheck. But by the grace of God, unemployment was something I was fortunate to get. It was a struggle for some months—at least three months. It felt like a year. I wish I would have talked to you before this. If you had told me that they weren’t putting no evictions out yet, I probably would still be there. But I looked at it like, as long as my kids are eating, I’m alright. As long as they have a roof over their heads, they OK.

Tis pandemic, it’s a hard thing. It’s something we ain’t never seen before. Te government should step in and not let the landlords do us like this. It’s not our fault we lost our income due to the virus. But we’ll be OK. God got us. As long as he got me I’ll be all right. I’m never going to get down on myself.

I’m back working now. I’m back driving. I started back in October. I see myself trying to get my own truck one day. Tat’s my future. My future is great.

Tisha*: South Chicago

CW: this section contains details about intimate partner violence

I'm a single mother of fve. I grew up in the low end of Chicago. I grew up like any Chicago kid, you know. Tere was struggles, trying to make it while living in diferent shelters. My mom couldn't really do it on her own, so she had to give us to whoever could take care of us. We transferred schools a lot because we moved around a lot. Tat was very hard. Te worst part was getting to know our friends then having to go to another school. I lived with my grandma for fve years. She raised me to who I am now.

Everything was going OK until I experienced real bad domestic violence from my kids’ father in February 2020. I was working as a cashier at Shark’s Chicken. I lost my job a month after we moved in due to my face being messed up and me not wanting to go to work like that. My boss fred me. He didn’t believe I was going through domestic violence. He thought I just kept calling of from work for no reason, but I wasn’t. He was paying me cash so there was no way to get unemployment. When you’re getting paid cash, it’s like you’re not even working.

I was in the hospital for a while. My kid’s father messed up a lot of things in my face. When I got out, I had a conversation with my landlord with my face all swollen. I let him know that I was behind on rent because I wasn’t able to work. He said, it’s fne. We’ll fgure things out. After that day, I didn’t see him again. Because of COVID, I couldn’t fnd a new job to at least try to pay him some type of money and get to some type of agreement. Te city had shut down. People wasn’t hiring. It was very hard.

I actually thought he would be a nice, understanding guy. But I see how it is when people don't get their money. He started coming around, doing little things to get me out of the apartment illegally. He started turning of my water. He broke my furnace. He turned my lights out. He took my cat. Te city [ticketed] him after I called 311 to make complaints after he broke my furnace.

While I was sleeping in my room with my kids, he came into the apartment to give me a fve-day notice. I woke up to go to the bathroom and there he was, standing in my living room. I asked, “Why are you here?” He’s like, “Oh, I’m giving you a fveday notice. You have fve days to go, or I’m going to just put everything outside.” I told him he had to take me to court and he’s like, “I’m not doing that, here’s a fve-day notice,” and just walked of. I called the police right after he left and made a report. My kids were scared. We left the apartment for the night because I didn’t know if he was coming back. Tat was scary.

Te day the apartment went up in fames, I was at the hospital supporting my best friend. She had just had her baby. After I left the hospital, I picked my kids up from my mother’s house. She lives a couple of blocks away from me. By the time we get home, I saw smoke coming from the back of the house. I called 911 and then my mother. Te fre department said the fre started because of a cigarette, but I don’t believe it. Most of our stuf burned or was totaled because of the smoke. We were all crying because that’s all we had. We have nothing now except the clothes we had on our backs that day.

I’ve been trying to get donations now. My pride makes it very hard for me to suck up to ask for handouts because I'm so used to doing everything on my own. But right now I need a lot of help. I was trying to fnd some domestic violence assistance. I kept calling the domestic violence court, I think. I left voice messages after voice messages, but they never called me back. I’ve been trying to get relocated. My partner is actually incarcerated still right now because of me.

Te city should really look into these evictions before they just start evicting people. Tey should really take their time to really hear the people's side of the story. I just want people to know that you don't have to go through domestic violence. It's not cool. It's not something that you should take at all. Tat's the one thing for sure. Everybody deserves better, everybody deserves happiness in life.

Access the full series online, learn more and get involved at citybureau.org. ¬

Woojae Julia Song is a multimedia storyteller and was recently a reporting fellow with City Bureau. Her work focuses on how people navigate migration, and you can fnd some of it on woojaesong.com. Tis is her frst piece for the Weekly. Malik Jackson is a South Shore resident and recent graduate from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, where he majored in Urban Studies. He last wrote a review of Te Trial of the Chicago 7 for the Weekly. Justin Agrelo is a City Bureau reporting resident from the Northwest Side. His reporting focuses on the impacts of COVID-19 on housing in Chicago. Tis is his frst piece for the Weekly. Natalie Frazier is a worker, community member, flmmaker and writer based on the Westside of Chicago. Tis is her frst piece for the Weekly.