In There Is No Place For Us: Working and Homeless in America, Brian Goldstone follows the struggles of five Atlanta families who are trying to keep a roof over their heads. Their stories are gripping and often heartbreaking.
But his topic presents a paradox. Why should Atlanta be the epicenter of a homelessness crisis? After all, in many ways it’s been a poster child for urban renewal over the past few decades.
The city’s been growing more rapidly than most other American cities, and that trend is set to continue. Several major corporations have established their headquarters there. It’s become a top tech center in the nation, and other sectors, such as healthcare and entertainment, are flourishing there as well.
With a sizzling economy like that, why are so many people being left behind?
Atlanta’s transformation came about with the assurance that everyone would benefit from it. Atlantans were promised new jobs, better schools and improved infrastructure.
Unfortunately, the city’s programs of renewal and gentrification didn’t work out as advertised.
Upgrading the cityscape came at an enormous price for its lower-income population. Housing for that demographic—both its cost and its availability—became a persistent problem. In fact, from 2010 to 2023 Atlanta shed 60,000 apartments with monthly rents of $1,250 or less, and median rents rose 76%.
And during the last 10 years, 94% of the new apartments available in Atlanta have been luxury rentals far beyond the financial reach of many.
As the book’s subtitle suggests, these dire circumstances are hardly limited to Atlanta.
The juxtaposition of economic prosperity and desperate poverty has taken root in many U.S. cities.
The big picture of America’s housing insecurity crisis is devastating.
Over the past four decades, apartment rents have outpaced income growth by 325%. Fifty-three million Americans—practically half of the nation’s workers aged 18 to 64—now have jobs that pay on average $10.22 per hour. A household of three people relying on that level of income is below the poverty line.
And so the argument that urban renewal lifts all boats turned out to be a specious one.
Something else that’s turned out to be misleading: the widespread narrative about the homeless themselves.
Many Americans tend to associate homelessness with drug abuse and mental illness, but Goldstone argues that this misleading impression was spread intentionally.
Forty years ago, when homelessness started its sharp rise, some elected officials understated its seriousness and claimed that the roots of housing insecurity lay with individual behaviors rather than larger societal factors. Focusing on societal causes—like the dearth of affordable housing or the paucity of wages—would call into question the merits of neoliberal economics.
And so a strategy arose that connected homelessness with drug addiction and mental health issues. Federal funding for research on homelessness was restricted to studies that examined these two issues. Although the mentally ill and drug addicts comprise part of the homeless population, they make up a relatively small percentage of those experiencing housing insecurity.
A much larger number—including the five families featured in this book—have simply been unable to find places that they could afford over the long haul given the low wages they’re earning.
How serious has the problem of homelessness become? It’s hard to say, given the way it’s now being measured.
The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) mandates that communities regularly conduct a point-in-time count of the homeless. In January 2020, for example, around 30 small groups of volunteers fanned out across Atlanta to seek out homeless individuals and share their findings.
The procedure has good intentions, but it’s far from comprehensive. Missing from the results are those who are sleeping in their vehicles and those in extended-stay hotels.
Researchers in Chicago formed the Homelessness Data Project, which started to do a more complete tally, one that also counted people who had moved in with others—family members and friends.
Their findings in 2016: More than 64,000 people in Chicago were living “doubled up” in Chicago—a gigantic number compared to the point-in-time total of 5,889 that year.
Based on other indications of homelessness—for example, data assembled by school districts about students experiencing housing insecurity—the total number across the nation now seems to exceed four million.
What about government efforts to address the crisis?
Public housing—fully established and managed by government agencies—fell out of favor long ago and was replaced by more market-friendly strategies.
Two such strategies involve Section 8 vouchers and public-private partnerships.
Those who receive Section 8 vouchers don’t have to pay more than 30% of their income for rent; the federal program takes care of the remainder.
However, getting into this program is no slam dunk. The funding that Congress provides has fallen far short of the actual need. Some social safety net programs, such as Medicaid and food stamps, have traditionally provided benefits to all who could show they were eligible. When it comes to rental assistance, however, many who qualify still can’t get the support they need.
Another shortcoming of the Section 8 program is that landlords aren’t required to participate. Those who receive a voucher then often face another difficult challenge: finding a decent apartment complex that accepts the voucher.
Public-private partnerships, another federal strategy to support renters in need, arose as part of Ronald Reagan’s 1986 Tax Reform Act.
In this approach, private businesses that offer low-cost housing are eligible for a Low-Income Housing Tax Credit (LIHTC), and over time this has provided most of the country’s low-cost housing.
In 1989, legislators introduced a requirement that such sites remain affordable for 30 years.
However, a loophole in the IRS code that year let businesses leave the LIHTC program, and earn more profits from higher-paying renters, after a mere 14 years. By 2023, in fact, more than 100,000 affordable units had vanished due to this loophole.
So how do things look in Fresno?
Up-to-date figures are hard to come by, but two years ago the number of homeless people in the city was estimated to be 4,305. At that time, it was also estimated that 2,758 individuals were unsheltered—neither living with friends or family members nor living in a shelter.
The Fresno Housing website (fresnohousing.org) states that 13,000 people currently receive Section 8 vouchers, although there aren’t enough Section 8 units to meet the local demand.
According to Phil Skei, assistant director of Fresno’s Planning & Development Department, local LIHTC projects are required to stay affordable for 55 years, and they’re monitored each year to make sure they’re in compliance. The 14-year Atlanta scenario that Goldstone depicts isn’t possible in Fresno.
Supporting those in need has become more arduous given the current societal climate.
As reported in Fresnoland on July 10, two Fresno homeless shelters—the Golden State Triage Center and Journey Home—will close by the end of 2025. Others could follow suit due to funding shortfalls.
The federal government’s budget could also change radically soon, involving severe cuts in HUD and to the Section 8 program.
Goldstone puts the matter bluntly. “The reach of homelessness is expanding. As it pulls more and more people into its grip, we might wonder: Who gets to feel secure in this country? And who are the casualties of our prosperity?”
