Why People Become Homeless Is Closer to Home Than We Think

There is a kind of fear that comes over you when the rent is due and you don't know how you are going to pay it.

You can be sitting inside the same home you have lived in for years, surrounded by your furniture, your clothes, your dishes, and all the small things that make it feel like yours.

But suddenly, the room feels different.

You start wondering how long you will still be allowed to stay.

You look at everything around you and realize that having a home and being able to keep a home are not always the same thing.

I understand that fear in a way I wish I didn't.

As many of you know, I have been out of work for a while since I was fired.

I have sent out resumes. I have filled out applications.

I have waited for calls that didn't come and read rejection emails that made an already hard season feel heavier.

I am still trying.

But trying doesn't make the bills stop coming.

One of the biggest blessings in my life right now is that my landlords have been willing to work with me on my rent.

They have been patient, kind, and caring while I try to get back on my feet and repay what I owe.

I can't fully explain what that kindness has meant to me.

They may see it as giving me more time.

I see it as the reason I still have a door to lock at night.

Because the truth is, if they decided they couldn't work with me anymore, I would have nowhere else to go.

I don't have another apartment waiting for me.

I don't have enough money sitting in an account for first month's rent, a security deposit, application fees, utility deposits, moving costs, and everything else that comes with trying to get into a new place.

I would probably have to live in my car.

At least until somebody came and took that too. Lol.

I laugh because sometimes we laugh at things that scare us.

But there is nothing funny about realizing how quickly your whole life could change.

This is why I don't look down on people or families who are homeless.

I don't know their story.

I don't know what happened before I saw them.

And the older I get, the more I understand that the space between their life and mine may be much smaller than I once thought.

We like to believe homelessness happens because someone failed.

Maybe they didn't work hard enough.

Maybe they spent her money carelessly.

Maybe they made too many bad choices.

Maybe they should have planned better.

Those answers are easy because they let us believe it could never happen to us.

But many people become homeless because rent is too high and their income is too low.

The United States doesn't have enough lower cost homes for everyone who needs one.

When most of a person's pay is already going toward rent, one missed shift, medical bill, car repair, rent increase, or job loss can mess everything up.

The lack of housing that people can actually afford is considered the main cause of homelessness in this country.

That doesn't mean addiction, illness, family problems, or painful choices never play a part.

They can.

But those things don't explain the whole problem.

Plenty of people struggle with addiction, illness, divorce, grief, or poor choices and still remain housed because they have money, family support, savings, good credit, or someone willing to catch them.

The difference is not always character.

Sometimes the difference is a safety net.

Sometimes it is one relative with an extra room.

Sometimes it is savings.

Sometimes it is a landlord willing to wait.

That last one is where I am standing right now.

I think one of the most crazy things someone can say during a conversation about homelessness is, “Why don't they just get a job?”

It sounds like a solution until we slow down and look at real life.

Many people who experience homelessness already work.

A job doesn't always pay enough to keep a roof over your head.

In 2025, a full time worker in the United States needed to earn about $28.17 an hour to afford a modest one-bedroom rental without spending too much of their income on housing.

She needed about $33.63 an hour for a modest two bedroom rental.

Those wages are much higher than what many home health aides, food service workers, office workers, childcare workers, and other working women earn.

So when someone says, “Get a job,” my first thought is, what kind of job?

How much does it pay?

How many hours does she get?

What is the rent where she lives?

Does she have children?

Can she afford childcare?

Does she have a working car?

Is her body healthy enough to work two jobs?

Is she caring for someone else?

We can't keep acting as though having any job automatically means a person earns enough money to live.

Employment doesn't always equal housing.

Sometimes a person can work forty hours a week and still come up short.

Then there is the cost of getting into an apartment.

People talk about finding another place as though we can grab our purse, drive across town, and pick up a key.

That isn't how it works.

A person may need the first month's rent, a security deposit, an application fee, money to turn on the lights, proof that she earns several times the monthly rent, decent credit, good rental history, and enough money to move her belongings.

If she has already been struggling to pay her current rent, where is she supposed to find thousands of dollars for a new place?

In the couch cushions?

People can also be turned away because of an old eviction, poor credit, gaps in work, past homelessness, or the kind of income they receive.

Even when someone is earning money, these roadblocks can make finding a home much harder.

That is another part of homelessness we don't talk about enough.

Losing housing is expensive.

Getting housed again is expensive too.

And our picture of a homeless person is often so limited that we miss what homelessness really looks like today.

We picture someone sitting on a sidewalk asking for change.

That person matters.

But we don't picture the person sleeping in her car before getting dressed for work.

We don't picture her washing up in a gym bathroom, putting on a clean shirt, and clocking in as though she didn't spend the night trying to feel safe in a parking lot.

We don't picture the mother moving between relatives' couches with her children, trying not to stay too long because she can feel when she is becoming a burden.

We don't picture the person paying for a motel room one night at a time.

We don't picture the woman staying with a man who mistreats her because she has nowhere else to sleep.

We don't picture the older person whose rent keeps rising while her monthly income barely changes.

We don't picture the family living in a crowded home with relatives because the alternative is having no home at all.

We don't picture the person who has an address today but knows she may lose it next month.

Homelessness doesn't always look the way we expect it to look.

Sometimes it looks like a person sitting beside us at work.

Sometimes it looks like the mother waiting in the school pickup line.

Sometimes it looks like someone wearing clean clothes and carrying a full purse because everything important she owns is inside it.

Sometimes it looks like us trying desperately to hold on before anyone notices that we are slipping.

More than 771,000 people were counted as homeless on one night in January 2024.

That count included people in shelters and people staying in places not meant for living.

It still doesn't show every person moving between couches, sleeping in a car unnoticed, or women staying somewhere unsafe because she has no other choice.

That information is hard to take in.

But I think the more uncomfortable truth is that many of us know how a person could get there.

Most families don't have piles of money waiting for an emergency.

They have the next paycheck.

They have a credit card that may already be close to its limit.

They have a car they need to get to work.

They have rent due before the next deposit hits the bank.

They have children who still need to eat while the adults quietly panic.

When the price of food, gas, medicine, childcare, and rent keeps rising, there isn't always anything left to save.

Then life happens.

Someone gets sick.

A relationship ends.

A job disappears.

Hours get cut.

The car breaks down.

The landlord raises the rent.

The person who was helping can't help anymore.

And the life that looked stable from the outside begins to fall apart behind a closed door.

Being fired has taught me many things I never wanted to learn.

One of them is that doing your best doesn't always protect you from hardship.

You can have years of work experience.

You can apply for jobs.

You can be responsible.

You can keep trying.

And you can still find yourself depending on someone else's patience to keep a roof over your head.

That realization has humbled me.

It has also made me more careful about how I see other people.

I don't need to know every detail of a person's life before deciding she deserves respect.

I don't need proof that they made every right choice.

None of us have.

I don't need them to explain their worst days before I believe they are worthy of food, safety, rest, and a place to live.

Maybe the better question isn't, “What did they do to become homeless?”

Maybe the better question is, “What happened, and what support was missing when they needed it most?”

Because sometimes the line between being housed and being homeless isn't laziness.

It isn't a lack of effort.

It isn't a bad attitude.

Sometimes it is one paycheck.

One rent increase.

One lost job.

One car repair.

One emergency.

Or one landlord who decides they have run out of time.

I am still searching for work.

I am still trying to repay what I owe.

I am still living with the fear that comes from not knowing exactly when life will feel steady again.

But tonight, I have somewhere to sleep because someone chose kindness while I was struggling.

I am thankful beyond words.

And I am painfully aware that many women don't have anyone willing or able to give them more time.

So I don’t look down on the woman sleeping in her car.

I don’t assume the mother moving between couches didn't try hard enough.

I don’t look at someone standing on a corner and decide I know the whole story.

Because I don't.

What separates her life from mine may not be character, effort, or responsibility.

It may be one missed paycheck.

One landlord who said no.

One person who couldn't help.

Right now, I am still standing because someone gave me time.

Someone chose patience instead of judgment.

And that has made one thing very clear to me.

Most of us don't need to be reminded to work harder when life falls apart.

Sometimes we need room to breathe.

Sometimes we need help before everything is gone.

And sometimes the kindest thing we can do is stop asking how someone ended up there and remember how easily any one of us could.

#EvolvingWomanhood