Closed doors
THE STAY LODGE HOTEL ROOM IN CHARLOTTE, N.C., where Shanna Lee lives with her 3-year-old daughter, Lavi, isn’t much to look at. There’s a queen-size bed pushed up against the wall, a mini-fridge in the corner and a toddler’s pink kitchen play set purchased for $5. The most valuable item in the room sits atop a counter in a plastic sleeve: an unused federal Housing Choice Voucher.
In theory, that little piece of paper would contribute around $512 for a $1,012 two-bedroom for Lee and her daughter, covering the difference between 30% of her income and a unit’s market rate. But Lee, 34, can’t find a new landlord willing to accept it. The last two places that took her voucher failed routine inspections, which meant the local housing agency could no longer pay its portion of the rent. So, by no fault of her own, Lee was evicted. Twice.
Since then, she has spent nearly $500 in application fees applying to at least 10 places, hoping someone would accept her voucher, which used to be known as Section You get a dial tone, or you get an attitude,” says Lee, who usually works a double shift, Thursday through Sunday, as a waitress at the Waffle House. She makes $2.13 per hour, plus tips, and pays Stay Lodge’s $200 weekly rate. “I’m living paycheck to paycheck,” she says.
