Issue #11:
Home Is Where the Hate Ain't
Housing and Community Development


Housing is a crisis everywhere. Whether in large coastal cities, smaller towns, rural areas, or non-continental geographies, housing is increasingly out of reach, particularly options that are safe, habitable, and quality. And everywhere, false narratives circulate that impact Black and brown communities the most deeply – stories that say folks should work more or work harder to access better housing, stories that strip dignity from people who face housing insecurity and experience homelessness, stories that blame simply zoning regulations for the affordable housing crisis, or stories that scapegoat community input for slowing down development and restricting the availability of housing.
And yet these narratives mask other storylines – that policy choices and structural racism, not individual choices, built this segregated housing system, brick by brick. That there need to be many targeted approaches, not one silver bullet to a solution. About the racial disparities in appraisal biases that cost Black homeowners hundreds of thousands of dollars in the undervaluation of properties. Of the profitability embedded in programs purportedly intended to support those who need secure housing the most. That we can’t develop our way out of the racialized inequities that are baked into the housing system, where the gap between Black and white homeownership is currently greater than it was when the 1968 Fair Housing Act was passed, and where disparities are echoed in home value, home condition, and homelessness.
In this issue, The People’s Practice features practitioners who are shaping a new conversation through innovative solutions that combat the narratives baked deeply into our collective logic about the housing crisis. From Hawaii to Iowa, from organizing to end homelessness to cooperative land ownership, from home repair to tenant protections, we sketch a new blueprint for housing in community development – one that centers justice, is serious about sharing power, stays suspicious of tokenizing voices of communities of color, challenges harmful dominant narratives, and focuses on anti-racist solutions that hold housing as a human right, where everyone can finally find a place to call home.
Onward.
Sarah Imran is a mission-driven artist and academic, committed to building a more gender-just and liberated future. She is currently pursuing a PhD in Political Science at the University of Cincinnati, specializing in transnational feminist movements, feminist futures, and decolonial Global South scholarship. In addition to her academic research, Sarah is the Digital Media Manager at the International Feminist Journal of Politics, and she serves as a researcher and artist for Pakistan’s annual Aurat March (Women’s March).
Sarah is a feminist artist and illustrator whose creative practice explores themes of justice, radical care, and feminist futures. Her art draws inspiration from feminist movements, nature, joyful design, her Pakistani roots, and her daughter.
In these three illustrations, I imagine a future where community care, mutual aid, and interdependence form the foundation of how we live together.
In Community Dinner, a multigenerational and multicultural group gathers around a shared meal, symbolizing nourishment, belonging, and connection. Community Garden celebrates collective stewardship of the land, where tending to soil becomes an act of care, connection, and community building. Community Safety envisions an abolitionist future where safety emerges from relationships, not policing. The message “We keep us safe” shines as a guiding light of care and accountability.
As a researcher currently writing my dissertation on decolonial feminist futures, my creative work often explores how art can help us practice new worlds. I draw inspiration from thinkers like adrienne maree brown, Mariame Kaba, Andrea Ritchie, and the collaborative text We Grow the World Together: Parenting Toward Abolition. Their work reminds me that imagination is a political act, and that futures rooted in anti-racism, anti-colonialism, and radical love must be actively rehearsed in the present.
I made sure to include children in each illustration, because as a mother to a three-year-old, I think deeply about how we co-create these new worlds with our young ones. Children embody the bold imagination and openness required to build futures where all can thrive. Elders hold wisdom and memory. In the richness that comes from collaboration across generations, we can build generative spaces for transformation. We can build a world rooted in equity, care, and collective flourishing.
We sat down with Daniel Wiley to discuss the role of community organizing in housing policy and housing justice.

Daniel: In my heart of hearts, I’m a community organizer. The more I’ve done the work, I’ve realized that there are so many ways of organizing beyond agitating with bullhorns and signs. The best way for me is to make sure that I’m as resourceful as possible, that I’m not taking up the space but giving the community the space. It’s how you absorb what people tell you, how people absorb what you say to them. You’re building trust, both for you and for what you’re sharing.
You mentioned starting out in arts and hip hop culture. How does that intersect with your work?
Daniel: I was engulfed in hip hop culture in Newark and New York City, working with a collective of street artists. In my early 30s, I came across a job opportunity to organize in my old neighborhood for Ironbound Community Corporation (ICC). I remember my first thought was, I think we could build a wiffle ball field at my old grammar school. But my first organizing campaign began when a public housing tenant came in and shared with me a notice to shut down the Millard E. Terrell Homes public housing. That led me to jump into what felt like one of the longest housing campaigns that folks in the city have worked on. The dream of being an artist led me to where I am, but I still use that creativity, that sense of community, and that energy on a daily basis.
In Newark, including East Ironbound, street art is important to our city’s culture. So we started working with a collective of street artists to figure out how to preserve this culture. We initially started beautifying the area with murals. One artist said, “Oh great, we can use this to gentrify the neighborhood.” And I realized we had to take a couple steps back and talk about why we were doing this. We looked at Wynwood in Miami and Philadelphia’s Mural Arts Program, and the contrast between the two. We learned that we had to ensure the rest of the community is part of the process. Bringing more community members in helped us realize what it actually means to preserve a culture. They wanted to see themselves on these walls.
Now that Newark is in the beginning stages of its development boom, we started focusing on other ways to protect our communities. What precautions can we put in place to help our community stay in place? So we worked on a rent control campaign. That galvanized folks to think about what other policies were in place. The executive director of Ironbound Community Corporation drafted the first inclusionary zoning ordinance for the City of Newark. We followed the lead of New York City with Right to Council, making Newark the third city in the whole country to pass it.
You’ve helped advance several major housing policies in Newark. For those unfamiliar, what’s their impact?
Daniel: Newark’s rent control policy is one of the strongest in the nation. We actually have anti-vacancy decontrol, and other measures that help to keep communities together. Our inclusionary zoning policy is progressive but the challenges come in the enforcement. Same with right to counsel – the enforcement capacity keeps it from reaching its full potential.
One of the things that we’re focusing on now is community ownership. After creating ordinances, how far into the process does community engagement stop? How do we get it to go further? With inclusionary zoning, there weren’t measures in place to make sure that after it crossed the City Hall line, the community was still involved. Enforcement actually impacts development moving forward.
What critical housing challenges are you facing through the Housing Justice Project right now?
Daniel: Development is dictating the future of what our communities are going to look like, and we’re also as a community not having the opportunity to actually define what a community is or what neighborhoods should look like, even though we go through all these meetings for master plans.
We just lost the campaign we were working on for the last year, which was to stop like this 30-story development, in a neighborhood where most of the community is capped at five stories. It started off with three or four people, and it turned into 100 people showing up to a Planning Board meeting, which is unusual. And still basically the city said, it’s cool that you came out, but guess what? We have our own vision of what’s going to happen, and granted that developer their permit.
As development happens, eviction cases are going up. We’re seeing landlords illegally trying to increase rents by $1,000, even though rent increases are capped between like $50 to like $100 when the lawful percentage (attached to the Consumer Price Index) is applied.
Habitability is also a major issue – issues with elevators, buildings with units where nothing is updated or fixed, just issue upon issue all across the city. Unfortunately, all of this lands the hardest on our already vulnerable residents. We’re also paying close attention to our immigrant population who are really suffering right now, on top of what’s going on at the federal level.
Can you describe the New Jersey Legal Design Lab and your role there?
Daniel: The Lab brings together third-year law students who are interested in movement lawyering. My job as community engagement lead is to bring the community members together with them. Are we introducing community spaces to classroom spaces or classroom spaces to community spaces?
In collaboration, community members and students work together to build prototypes for what might be useful in the community. Right now we’re working on a tenant resource hub. It can be hard to believe the amount of people that don’t understand their basic rights as a tenant because the information is unclear. We have the first part live now as a prototype, and we are always collecting feedback to understand what is the most important information needed, and how community members understand that information so that it is empowering and useful beyond or before crisis.
We’re also thinking about a community school, to help community members understand zoning, tenant rights, reading leases, anti-eviction strategies, and anything else people on the ground feel could benefit their movements.
Another piece we hope to offer is to help people know the history behind what they might be experiencing. That emphasis on history came directly from community leaders. While one of the members of our Co-Lab space, a librarian, was facilitating a conversation, everybody perked up when they mentioned Newark’s history, and we realized we should talk about this more.
How do you apply an anti-racist approach to your work?
Daniel: Paying attention to the nuance is really important, the ability to listen intently and actually absorb what people are saying. Outside of language justice, there’s also community language that you have to understand. People want to be heard, no matter the setting. So you have to work to understand. It might take an hour to pick up on one thing, or you might get a one word answer, but it comes from a very real place.
I think we really have to talk about how we get more people of color in positions of power, in a meaningful way. It’s too easy to tokenize community members, to have someone be in your space to legitimize your work, rather than the other way around. Those of us that work in spaces of power need to make sure that us being in community spaces actually legitimizes the community, rather than legitimizing the institution.
Daniel Joseph Wiley is a lifelong resident of Newark, NJ, where he has spent most of his time creating space for public art, and organizing with tenants for housing policy and positive change in communities.
I remember the day my family entered the Salvation Army shelter in Charlotte, NC in the summer of 1993. My family was assigned a bunk bed in the large room filled with women and children of various ages, races and circumstances. The metal bunk beds were like army barracks, cold and sterile. My little sister and I shared the top bunk, and my mom and infant brother slept on the bottom bunk. And just like in the army, lights went out early and came on even earlier at 5:00am. Everyone ate and showered at the same time, and everyone hoped their stay would be short. Many make assumptions on how people end up living in a shelter. For my family, the answer was simple – we could not afford housing. My mom worked at a department store full-time, but the cost of living increased faster than her salary.
Some will say just get a better job to afford housing. Is housing a commodity that is only for those that can afford it, or is it a right that should be afforded to all people? Sadly, the answer will depend on who you ask. In my opinion, it is a human right, but we treat housing as a commodity.
This idea impacts homeownership, often considered the key to “generational wealth”. Can a home’s equity support economic mobility and create economic stability? Absolutely. Will a single home purchase by a limited income family magically create generational wealth in one generation? Highly unlikely. The focus on the financial gain of homeownership has masked its social-emotional benefits. Homeownership improves stability, educational outcomes and community strength. These are benefits to society, not just an individual’s financial well-being. If we focus on housing’s societal benefit, there may be more effort to make it accessible to more people. Some have argued that if you just loosen regulations on building to increase supply, prices will naturally decrease. But housing is a necessity; therefore there is inelastic demand. The demand remains no matter the price. Limited income families who rely on down payment assistance programs and affordable mortgage products feel even more the burden of rapidly increasing property values and insurance premiums, transforming a “dream home” into a financial nightmare.
Renting is also becoming out of reach for many people. As a commodity, housing developers inflate construction costs on tax-credit deals to obtain the biggest returns, with construction costs exceeding $300k per unit in Houston. Landlords refuse vouchers or accept them while inflating rents. Landlords of naturally occurring affordable housing allow buildings to fall into disrepair as renters will overlook sub-par conditions simply to keep a roof over their head they can afford.
When housing is seen as a commodity for builders, government, landlords, and owners, that promise of profit shapes unaffordable, poor quality, and unstable housing. When housing is seen as a right, its value and benefit to society extends beyond a financial return on investment and changes how we steward it. As Executive Director of the Houston Community Land Trust (HCLT), we steward property for the benefit of community. The Community Land Trust model is just one tool to disrupt the housing system by placing the control of land and properties in the hands of those who have a vested interest in the community, making development more equitable. Houston CLT has created over 200 quality, permanently affordable homes for limited income Houstonians that have been priced out of the market. We remove control of land from speculators and center the needs and wants of those often overlooked in the traditional housing market. While we cannot completely change the way housing development is conducted, we can use tools such as the CLT model to create space for housing that is accessible, safe, sanitary and stable for all income levels.
When my family entered the Salvation Army, we were not thinking about getting a house we could sell for a profit. We were not looking for a luxury rental with a state-of-the-art fitness center and rooftop pool. We wanted quality housing without fear of property taxes, insurance and rent hikes pushing us out of our home. We do not have to completely remove financial gain from affordable housing development; however, we cannot place profit over people. For those non-profits, community development organizations, government entities who influence affordable housing, ask yourself: Is your project prioritizing profit or people? Are you promoting housing as a commodity to be bought and sold or are you providing a basic human right needed for all societies to thrive?
Dr. Ashley Paige Allen serves as Executive Director of the Houston Community Land Trust (HCLT), which has provided permanently affordable homeownership to over 200 limited-income Houston families since 2019. Her experience as a homeless youth ignited her passion to help increase housing accessibility and affordability for those that need it most. Dr. Allen has 20 years of nonprofit leadership and program development experience in the areas of education, S.T.E.M., workforce development and affordable housing. Dr. Allen holds a bachelor’s from Florida A&M University, a master’s in public administration from Governors State University, and a doctorate from Loyola University in Chicago.
Rain is in the forecast for Detroit and anxiety creeps in as Ms. Jones walks around the house gathering buckets to place under the hole in her roof. She pulls up a chair in front of her stove and bundles up. With Social Security payments as her only source of income, Ms. Jones cannot afford to fix her roof or furnace. She’s reached out to countless organizations for help, and each one says the same thing: “We will put you on the waitlist and give you a call if we get more funding.” If she doesn’t get help, and soon, Ms. Jones will resort to sleeping on a friend’s couch or searching for space in shelters. Her home will stand vacant, falling further into disrepair, resulting in the loss of her family’s home and adding another single-family unit to the list awaiting public demolition.
Home repair has become a multi-billion-dollar housing policy challenge hidden in plain sight in large cities and small towns alike across the United States. As of 2024, the estimated cost of needed repairs to occupied housing units was $198.4 billion, with an estimated 6.7 million households living in moderately or severely inadequate housing. Without intervention, these homes will continue to decline until they are no longer occupiable. Many communities offer residents assistance with critical home repairs, but the demand far exceeds the resources available. In Detroit, within the first 24 hours of launching the Detroit Home Repair Fund (DHRF), the hotline received an overwhelming 120,000 calls – despite the program being designed to support only 1,000 households.
The effects of substandard housing transcend urban, rural, and political divides. Structural racism, legacies of segregation, and discrimination contribute to the complexity and intersectionality of this issue. Research shows homeowners of color in low- and moderate-income neighborhoods are more likely to live in substandard housing. Those residents also face greater difficulty in accessing capital to make needed repairs. Unmet repair needs undermine property values and, consequently, the prospect of building intergenerational wealth.
Recently, local home repair programs have received renewed attention for their potential to improve health and quality of life, reduce household financial uncertainty, preserve naturally occurring affordable housing supply, enhance neighborhood safety, and generate savings for health and social service systems. In addition, many housing experts have identified that increasing housing supply through new construction alone will not solve the problem.
Rarely is the case made for the role that home repair, if funded at scale, can have in addressing the housing crisis. Greater financial investment could help preserve a community’s existing housing stock and maintain access to the benefits of homeownership for lower-income households.
Solutions may look slightly different depending on the community, stakeholders, and degree of need, but we pose the following recommendations for a national strategy:
Flexible Funding
Large-scale institutional funding from all levels of government and philanthropy is essential. The bottleneck for home repair results from inconsistent, unpredictable, and inflexible funding. In order to leverage existing programs, flexible repair dollars to address underlying conditions and/or incidental repairs must be a part of the solution in order to reach the homes with the greatest need.
Whole Home Approach
With greater flexibility, repair funds could support “whole home” repairs by creating a basic standard of housing quality that prioritizes the health and safety of the occupant, rather than piecemeal individual repairs across programs. DHRF, for example, is a public-private partnership that has leveraged philanthropic funding to provide flexible home repair dollars to unlock public resources, ensuring that residents are not deferred from receiving home repairs because of the underlying condition of their homes.
Collaboration
Programs, policies, and practitioners must address the immediate crisis while building ecosystems to support long-term housing solutions. In Detroit, stakeholders have come together to form the Citywide Home Repair Task Force to develop system-wide best practices and data collection, communicate and case-manage across programs, and measure collective impact.
Without high-dollar investment and bold policy changes, the U.S. stands to lose housing units, and the expense and complexity of addressing housing quality will only increase. At the same time, millions of residents across the country are in need of assistance, with only a small chance of receiving repair support. Ms. Jones was fortunate. Through DHRF, she was able to secure the critical repairs her home needed. But for every homeowner like Ms. Jones, many others remain on waiting lists or go without help as they watch their homes deteriorate before their eyes.
Gwen Gell is a Senior Program Manager at the Rocket Community Fund. Her portfolio consists of alternative pathways to homeownership and home repair. She is an active member of the Citywide Home Repair Task Force.
Jess Wunsch is the Director of City Engagement at the NYU Furman Center’s Housing Solutions Lab. There, she works with small and midsize city leaders on local housing policy and convenes a growing community of practice dedicated to strengthening and scaling municipal home repair programs.
We took some time to talk to Jesse Rabinowitz about his work to confront the criminalization of homelessness and policies that actually make a difference in reducing homelessness.

To start, can you tell me a little bit more about yourself and how you got into this work?
Jesse: My mom used to run the emergency hypothermia shelter at our synagogue growing up. I remember being in the kitchen with her, and I’m sure I was being a brat, and she was like, just go, talk to people. I have this strong memory of sitting with homeless folks on their mats and connecting with them as people, learning that they wanted the same thing that everybody does – a place to live, to feel safe, and to be part of an accepting community. And that has carried with me throughout my life.
I’ve been doing this work for about a decade, from homeless street outreach, a case manager in a drop-in center, to local policy and organizing. For the past two and a half years, I’ve been at the National Homelessness Law Center fighting the onslaught of laws that make it a crime to be homeless.
What are some misconceptions about homelessness that you’d like to challenge, or alternative narratives you’d like to uplift?
Jesse: The biggest narrative that we have to debunk is that people are choosing to be homeless. I’ve never met anyone who has wanted to be homeless. Homelessness happens because our priorities are backwards and our systems are broken: there’s not enough housing, there’s not enough support, there’s not enough care. But homelessness is not an individual choice. It’s a policy failure. Anti-homeless laws respond to this false belief that if we make homelessness harder, people will choose something else. But there is no “something else.” People would not be sleeping outside if they had anywhere else to go.
Making it a crime to be homeless makes homelessness worse. It destroys people’s trust with the government. It destroys people’s belongings, like their medicine, IDs that they need to get into housing. It saddles people with a criminal record, making it harder to find a job or housing, and displaces them. It does not work.
One of the interesting things our polling showed is that more people than not now recognize homelessness as a systems failing and not an individual issue, because either they or a loved one has experienced homelessness or housing instability.
Homelessness is not new, but it’s not inevitable. When I talk to folks who are older than I am, they remember not seeing huge numbers of people sleeping outside every night. Homelessness exploded when the Reagan administration decimated the social safety net, and I find comfort in that, in an odd way, because that teaches us that homelessness is solvable. That means that we can get back there. We have to build people power to demand that our elected officials do their jobs and fund a housing system that works for everybody.
But we have had proven success in reducing homelessness and in connecting people with the services and support they need. Cities and states across the country continue to do important work moving folks off the street and into housing. I feel like that’s unseen because we are not yet preventing more people from coming into homelessness. Housing and support works – there’s just not nearly enough of it. Across the country, the overwhelming majority of folks stay stably housed after the first year. When I was a case manager, folks would get into housing, they got healthy, reconnected with their families, started volunteering or found jobs. We know housing and support works, there aren’t enough of these proven solutions to go around. And that is a policy choice.
As a field, we can often silo community development and homelessness. How do you think about their intersection?
Jesse: Homelessness is the most visible way our failed housing system shows up. And it is frustrating to see people talk about housing justice but not those who are most impacted, people who are living outside. If we want to build a world where everybody has a place to live, that has to include and focus on folks who are living outside and in shelters. Otherwise you’re missing a key segment of the work. People don’t always want to engage with homelessness – but we need to.
It’s also important to address the inflow into homelessness, so we need to be doing both the work of preventing eviction, making sure that people stay stably housed at the same time as we are moving people from homelessness into housing. That requires increased coordination and increased funding of all of these programs.
What is giving you hope in the future you want to see?
Jesse: We’re in this sad but potentially powerful time when half of renters are paying more than they can afford each month. One in four families worry about imminently becoming homeless, and one in five households spend all of their income on rent. More and more people are seeing that our housing system is rigged for billionaires, and more and more people are realizing that homelessness is caused by policy and not by personal choices.
Our polling consistently shows that over 70% of people support solutions to homelessness, like Housing, Not Handcuffs. And we’re seeing results. In the last legislative cycle, there were 54 bills introduced that criminalized homelessness, and advocates and people with experience of homelessness and community members came together and defeated 80% of those bills. When we organize, we win.
I’m excited that our opposition is forcing us to collaborate across sectors. We are coordinating with mental health advocates, harm reductionists, disability rights advocates in new ways.
When we look at authoritarian regimes throughout history, they have come after two groups first – people they believe to be foreign, and homeless people. We saw this in Italy. We saw this in Germany. It’s happening here right now. Dehumanizing rhetoric turning into dehumanizing policy. In Atlanta, Cornelius Taylor was killed by a bulldozer when the city was throwing away his encampment. There is a twisted desire to remove people from society and force them into camps. At no time in history has forcing people into camps ever been a good thing. While people are rightly concerned about government overreach and authoritarianism, I need them to understand that a key counter to that is fighting against the criminalization of homelessness and fighting for the housing and support that everybody needs.
If you can do one thing, check out our resources and campaigns at Housing Not Handcuffs. We have a campaign right now saying no federal funding for detention camps. Housing Not Handcuffs is our effort to counter the lies of a billionaire-backed campaign to make it a crime to be homeless. People who got rich from Palantir – which sells facial recognition technology to ICE that the Trump administration has used to find, locate and deport migrants – are using their billionaires to fund this anti-homelessness push in cities, states, and now the federal government. The only real solution to homelessness is getting folks housing and support they need. Let’s push for the policies we know we need to actually solve homelessness.
Jesse Rabinowitz is the Campaign and Communications Director at the National Homelessness Law Center. He led the communications and power-building work on the historic Johnson vs. Grants Pass Supreme Court Case. Previously, he was the Senior Manager for Policy and Advocacy at Miriam’s Kitchen, where he managed a coalition that won funding to end chronic homelessness for over 6,000 people. Jesse received his master’s in social work at Howard University and lives in DC with his spouse and kiddo.
Raised in the desert of Phoenix, AZ and now living among the trees in Portland, OR, Victor Bizar Gomez is an Mexican-American illustrator and painter who is doing what he can to continue existing. Understanding that empathy is one of the most important tools in an Illustrator’s arsenal, Gomez uses the art of Illustration to help communicate the perspectives that are not often considered.
We caught up with Kavya Shankar to discuss anti-displacement strategies rooted in community collaboration.

First, tell us more about your work, and what drew you into the work.
Kavya: The most formative experience for my current role was working on the Obama Presidential Center, an over $800 million investment onto the South Side of Chicago, a neighborhood that has been unjustly denied access to investment for a very long time. In talking with residents, there was a lot of excitement around investment after a long time of disinvestment, but also curiosity and fear around who this investment was really for and whether they could continue to afford living in the neighborhood.
I felt like even well-intentioned actors didn’t have the tools to help neighborhoods invest in themselves without sacrificing affordability and belonging. This was my own inspiration for Trust Neighborhoods. We work with communities through a model called the Mixed-Income Neighborhood Trust. Today, we are in five neighborhoods across the country, with MINTs owning over 250 units of housing, and they’re continuing to grow, and we’re continuing to work with new neighborhoods.
So what exactly is a Mixed-Income Neighborhood Trust (MINT), and how does it work?
Kavya: Trust Neighborhoods works with existing neighborhood-based organizations starting to worry about pricing pressure to launch a MINT. This includes two linked entities: a holding company managed by the local neighborhood organization that acquires, renovates, and builds the portfolio, and a perpetual purpose trust that holds control of the portfolio and is legally required to serve those purposes forever. The purposes are co-authored with the community, often including priorities like anti-displacement, affordability, and belonging.
This model ensures that the portfolio outlives any one individual or institution and is legally required to serve those purposes forever. The trust structure ensures that in 50 years, everything won’t get converted to market rate, and the properties can’t be sold to build something else. This is permanent affordable housing for the community.
The housing itself is scatter-site, integrated into the existing neighborhood. Units might be single family homes, duplexes, or larger multifamily buildings. A minority of units can float to market rate to help pay for keeping the rest of the portfolio affordable and to help sustain the portfolio.
We have three primary goals. One, minimizing displacement, making sure that renters are able to continue to afford to live in the neighborhood. The second is improving the housing quality. A lot of the MINTs buy out properties from absentee or negligent owners, and they improve the quality of the housing in the neighborhood. And the final way is shifting community power, centering decision-making in community, rather than with outside investors or developers.
That’s such a critical point, and I’m wondering if you can share more about how the community partnership works.
Kavya: Community is very much the center of all the work. Trust Neighborhoods always starts with an existing neighborhood organization that already has the legitimacy of the community. That could be East Colfax Community Collective in Denver, a tenant organizing group. Or Growing Together, a Tulsa nonprofit that is part of Purpose Built Communities. Or a traditional community development corporation like Lowell CDC in Fresno, or East Boston CDC. The important part is that they show legitimacy, have capacity, have a track record, and are aligned with protecting affordability for renters.
Many partners have already done strategic planning, which led them to anti-displacement work. East Colfax Community Collective conducted an extensive planning process with immigrant and refugee families in their neighborhood, including a survey in 11 different languages and workshops where members selected the MINT model and down payment assistance as the two tools that they wanted to see. So they came to us with this data and invited us to partner with them.
Once we start, we set up a resident task force who scopes the legal purposes. That includes renters in unregulated housing, worried about the possibility of their rent going up, alongside other homeowners and renters. Upon launching, the two governing boards both include community stakeholders, for long-term community accountability. The portfolio is managed locally, and often contractors and rehabbers are local to the neighborhood itself. Community is embedded into every step of the process.
Anti-displacement work is long-term, but what signs of impact have been seen so far?
Kavya: In Tulsa, the MINT purchased six homes, where other interested buyers were interested in rehabbing the properties and kicking out the tenants. Instead, the MINT kept tenants in place, and renovated their units to quality without raising rents. That’s small but meaningful. In the East Boston Neighborhood Trust, families who had been displaced previously from the neighborhood are actually moving back into units.
I’m especially excited that the MINT backs local talent and expertise, and allows them to work with serious capital. Often, outside players raise private capital with major balance sheets, and the local groups are working with grants and public funds. We want to see major capital take a bet on local groups and let them compete in the same way as private developers. Someone with a giant balance sheet can buy up properties and sit on them to see if the neighborhood goes up in value. What if the neighborhood could do that themselves, and the value actually accrued to them?
What are some of the challenges that arise in launching and running a MINT?
Kavya: The biggest challenge is making sure that the robust infrastructure is in place for this to last forever, from the legal guardrails to the capacity for neighborhood partners to succeed. If there’s a roof that needs to be replaced in 15 years, that’s already in the budget. It’s a lot of work in the start-up phase.
Another challenge is focus. There is always a desire to further lower rents, because there is always a need for even more deeply affordable housing. We need to be really clear about where the MINT fits into the overall ecosystem of housing. No one tool can serve everyone. That’s why we love collaborating with community land trusts, housing authorities, the whole range. MINTs are meant to intervene at a point in time in naturally occurring affordable housing environments, and lock in rents where they are at, serving a critical missing middle.
We’re also grappling with casemaking about building institutional community power. A lot of anti-racist initiatives are focused on individual wealth building. That is critical, but strong institutions create collective agency. Wealth alone is lonely. The goal is not just to have more wealth, it’s to have more community power alongside that wealth.
What else do you hope to come out in the field?
Kavya: Bigger capital bets on communities. Capital needs to take this type of work seriously, not concentrating that capital with intermediaries or outside investors. Not everything has to be a pilot. Often the groups we’re backing have proven success for decades, and that track record deserves to have a big capital bet for them to intervene at scale. What would it look like for philanthropy, not to give a million here or there, but $10 million to allow a group to acquire at scale, get things off the speculative market and into the hands of the community?
I also would love to see funders take the lead from community instead of death by analysis of every single model. We don’t always need to spend money and time and resources vetting this model or this other model. Can we accept what the community says they want and back that vision? We need more community ownership investment across the board.
Lastly, with the volatility we are seeing in real estate right now, what would it look like for community-controlled real estate to meet this moment, so that we don’t replicate what happened in 2008, but rather have a dramatic shift in who owns these assets in this country? That’s a future that’s not only necessary but also possible with models like MINTs.
Kavya has dedicated her career to creating more equitable communities. She is co-founder and CEO of Trust Neighborhoods, a national nonprofit that helps neighborhoods worried about gentrification own their own mixed-income rental housing. She started her career at McKinsey and Company, focused on local and state economic development. She has a bachelor’s degree in economics from Harvard College and a master’s degree in business administration from Stanford Graduate School of Business.
The initial summer after Iowa Citizens for Community Improvement sent one of their organizers from Des Moines to live and work in Dubuque was one of many firsts, not only for me but for many other community members here. The two of us had spent the past winter months holding small neighborhood meetings and knocking doors throughout the city – deep canvassing. We wanted to know what Dubuquers cared most about. In what ways could our community be improved?
Overwhelmingly, we heard concern about Dubuque’s housing crisis. From complaints about slumlords and unaffordable rent to concerns about homelessness, my co-organizer and I knew that we had identified our issue. We began by creating a renters’ rights hotline, and of course, we continued knocking on people’s doors.
One summer afternoon, we were canvassing at a local mobile home park. Residents of this park had been fighting an uphill battle for years against the out-of-state corporation that had purchased the community of roughly 460 units. The story we’re all familiar with – they hike up the rent and allow everything to fall apart. Residents are told by elected officials that there is nothing to be done; the Governor is blamed.
We had hit the community organizing jackpot. Almost every person who opened their door had a story to tell, a grievance to air. These folks were ready and raring. Our past organizing experiences and trainings with Iowa Citizens for Community Improvement provided my co-organizer and me with the foundation necessary to channel this collective rage into collective action. We meet people where they’re at. We believe that those closest to the problem are closest to the solution – we are the experts of our own lives. We know that we cannot simply do for others what they are capable of doing themselves – but first we have to make sure they have the necessary tools.
We successfully secured a meeting between a Fannie Mae representative and the mobile home park residents, but we were informed that the corporation had suddenly paid off their loan before this meeting took place. The mobile home park was listed for sale. Residents were excited and relieved – not only had we won, but the residents themselves directly contributed to our victory over the out-of-state corporation. They witnessed their power, both collective and individual. They realized that they deserved power, they already have power, and that when we share our power we become unstoppable.
Since then, the residents of this mobile home park here in Dubuque still have their own, self-sufficient neighborhood association up and running – a tenants’ union of sorts. Even more exciting, one of the leaders of the mobile home association applied for a grant through a local community foundation. With the help of organized people power, the mobile home park received the funds to set up a community land trust for affordable housing development, offering preservation of long-term affordability and resident ownership support by 2030.
This experience is my reminder (and hopefully now yours) that we do not need to be policy experts in order to have political power over our lives and our communities. Provide each other with the tools and support to succeed, and watch people realize the importance of community. Relationships are the foundation of community organizing – we cannot build a movement unless those relationships are based in trust, respect, and empathy.
Briana (Bri) Moss is a 37-year-old woman from Dyersville, IA. Now living in Dubuque, Bri works as a food server at a non-profit casino where she is also a union steward with the International Association of Machinists. Bri is the Board Vice President for Iowa Citizens for Community Improvement, a 501(c)3 nonprofit with whom she does community organizing work around healthcare and housing.
Imagine strolling through the streets on an island where the heart of the town is merely a mile long, the roadways are just two lanes with no stop lights, Cooke Pine trees standing tall, and where everyone waves and smiles as they pass you by. Grandma and grandpa pushing a stroller while walking with the older grandchildren to take them to school, and aunties and uncles taking their nieces and nephews along with their own children to the local park. This is the real life for many of us on the island of Lana’i.
Lana’i was once the largest pineapple plantation in the world, producing 75% of the world’s pineapples. Nearly the entire island of Lānaʻi was purchased by James Dole in 1922, transforming it into the world’s largest pineapple plantation – covering over 20,000 acres, founding the nickname the “Pineapple Isle.” The plantation operations lasted for 70 years, before closing in 1992 as the agricultural industry shifted overseas.
The pineapple era on Lana’i employed thousands of immigrants from around the world, who moved to Lana’i to work in the fields, creating a deeply rooted, tight-knit, multicultural community. They came from Japan, the Philippines, Korea, and Portugal, along with China and Puerto Rico. In order to keep up with the population growth, Mr. Dole built up the islands’ plantation housing, planning it with orderly, wooden cottages, “Hawaiian Plantation Style” character with raised foundations, metal roof and verandas. The workers were housed in community blocks by ethnicity and language, an early strategy of labor camps during the plantation growth around the world. Lana’i City was built up, and over the years, from the transition of plantation to tourism and hospitality, the island continues to thrive as a diverse and multigenerational community, with new generations yearning to make Lana’i their home.
Each ethnicity brings strong traditions centered on respect for elders, shared responsibility, and the importance of family unity. In Filipino households, it is common for grandparents to help raise grandchildren while parents’ work. Japanese families often emphasize honoring and caring for aging parents. Kosraen families value close kinship networks and mutual support. Native Hawaiian culture is deeply rooted in ‘ohana – the belief that family extends beyond immediate relatives and that caring for one another is a shared kuleana or responsibility.
Multigenerational housing has long been a way of life in small island communities, and on Lana’i, it continues to play an important role in shaping family life and community stability. With a population of approximately 3,000 residents, Lana’i offers a close-knit environment where neighbors know one another, family ties run deep and we are always offering to help when help is needed. In a place where resources are limited and the cost of living in Hawaii remains among the highest in the nation, living under one roof with multiple generations is not only practical but meaningful.
The high cost of living in Hawaii significantly impacts daily life on Lana’i. Groceries, utilities, transportation, and housing costs are all elevated due to the islands’ remote location and reliance on imported goods, on a barge that arrives just once a week. For many families, maintaining a single-income household is an unrealistic reality. It is common for parents to work two jobs just to make ends meet, balancing long hours with the responsibilities of raising children and supporting aging relatives. In this environment, multigenerational living becomes a practical solution to financial strain. By sharing housing expenses such as rent or mortgage payments, electricity, water, and food costs, families can reduce their overall financial burden.
Beyond financial savings, children raised in multigenerational homes often develop a strong sense of identity and responsibility. They grow up witnessing cooperation between family members, learning firsthand about hard work, sacrifice and respect. Elders in turn remain active participants in family life, sharing wisdom and stories that keep cultural traditions alive. This continuity strengthens the broader community, as values taught at home ripple outward into schools, workplaces and civic life. When the children from Lana’i graduate from high school, they pursue their college paths either on the outer islands, or on the mainland, which can be costly, thus, living with family members allows the parents to save for the affordability of higher education.
In Lana’i, multigenerational housing represents more than a living arrangement; it is a reflection of the island’s character. Rooted in diverse cultural traditions and shaped by the realities of Hawaii’s high cost of living, this way of life demonstrates resilience, unity, and love. For many of the islands’ residents, living together across generations ensures that family values of togetherness remain strong – sustaining not only individual households but the entire community for years to come.
Charity Texeira Figuerres has dedicated a decade in nurturing and building strong and trusted relationships in the advancing of the credit union movement on the island of Lana’i. Fourth-generation on the island, she has devoted 32 years of service both professionally and personally through volunteer work, alongside her husband, raising her children and grandchildren.