‘Everybody needs help sometime’: Rural eviction drives cycles of housing instability

Despite a criminal record, Three Rivers resident John Smith ― not his real name ― found an apartment, a job, and, when his work hours kept getting cut, someone to help him pay his rent.

Still, his landlord has tried four times to evict him. So far, he’s found a way to stay put, but another eviction notice always lurks just around the corner. If he’s forced out, the rural region offers few other places for him to go.

With higher levels of poverty, lower pay, and rental homes largely falling into disrepair, rural communities often struggle to provide affordable and livable rental options for their residents. And when rural renters can’t make ends meet, their communities often lack the tools to help them keep a roof over their heads.

About 450 St. Joseph County households are behind on their rent, averaging about $800 in rent debt per household. Many of them are one emergency away from becoming one of the 40,000 Michigan households removed from their home by eviction each year.

Eviction’s numerous long-term consequences can include job loss, educational setbacks, food insecurity, family separation, poverty, and emotional trauma for the evicted and their families, all contributing to less-stable communities.

Local housing agencies work with what they have to improve rental options and keep the county’s renters in their homes, including tapping a state program meant to stabilize housing insecure people as quickly as possible. But, to truly combat evictions and the physical and mental instability that accompany them, rural communities need to address housing, jobs, transportation, mental health care, and the other root conditions that lead to eviction in the first place, housing advocates say.

Meanwhile, Smith hopes he can keep getting hours at his dishwashing job. For now, his landlord has agreed to take rent payments from an agency, but that could change, and he could once again face an eviction notice.

“It’s sad that they won’t take that help that I have,” Smith says. “They feel that I should be able to pay on my own. But everybody needs help sometime.”

‘What can one do with no help?’

Smith moved to the town of 8,000 from Chicago when he was 14 because his grandmother thought he’d be safer in the rural landscape of St. Joseph County. Soon after, he was using and selling cocaine, a choice that earned him a decade in prison.

In July, Smith graduated from a court program for repeat offenders, left a residential treatment facility, and moved into a Three Rivers apartment, hoping to start over and do better.

But with few local job options and none of them paying well, he misses his weekly rent payments sometimes. His landlord won’t fix anything, like the broken heater that caused Smith’s pipes to freeze over the winter. He’s afraid to complain too much ― or to reveal his real name in a news story ― for fear of retaliation.

With only 39 affordable and available homes per 100 extremely low-income renter households, Michigan lacks enough housing inexpensive enough that low-wage workers can pay for it.

In Smith’s small town, getting kicked out could mean having to move in with an acquaintance who abuses drugs, and Smith doesn’t want that for his kids. Of course, having kids in the apartment drastically increases the odds he’ll get evicted.

The local housing assistance agency promised to pay Smith’s rent. But the landlord won’t accept the money if it means getting inspected.

Landlords can’t ignore nonpayment just to be nice, says Douglas Marcum, recent president of the Property Management Association of Michigan. Landlords can, however, say no to third-party rent assistance.

In big cities, where most apartment building owners hire professional property managers, municipalities usually require regular inspections. In rural areas, landlords are often on their own, managing duplexes, subdivided houses, and small apartment complexes with little oversight.

Such landlords may balk at federal or state vouchers or other rent assistance programs that require an inspection, fearing the loss of rent income if they have to make repairs. For a small-scale landlord with only a few units ― which describes 70% of St. Joseph County’s rental stock ― that loss could devastate their income, Marcum says.

Smith wants to stay on the straight and narrow. But, facing a string of eviction notices and rent he can’t pay, “It leaves my mind wandering” back to selling drugs, he says. “That’s something I’m trying to get out of my mind. I’m working on that. But what can one do with no help?”

Legal help out of reach

The day after a tenant misses a rent payment, a landlord can start the eviction process.

St. Joseph County courts processed 440 evictions in 2023, the most recent year for which data is available. Once the eviction process reaches the courts, rural tenants are almost 50% more likely to have a judge order them out of their homes than their urban counterparts. Even when tenants win their case, eviction filings can destabilize tenants’ lives, following them like a school record.

Low-income people facing eviction can tap free legal help and an almost-guaranteed positive outcome through Legal Aid, a statewide nonprofit law office. Still, while most landlords have legal representation in court, fewer than 5% of tenants do.

Offering legal help is trickier in rural areas, says Donald Roberts, managing attorney of the Kalamazoo office of Legal Aid of Western Michigan, which handles the agency’s cases in St. Joseph County.

Unlike in more urban counties, where eviction hearings happen during predictable blocks, St. Joseph County eviction hearings are scattered throughout the week, and Legal Aid attorneys have to be lucky to be present at the right time to offer their services. St. Joseph County courts do try to steer tenants toward financial and legal help. Once, a judge even called Roberts from the bench and Zoomed him into a hearing.

But, unlike in larger counties, courts can’t offer a broad slate of partners ready to provide wraparound services to get the tenant back on their feet so they can keep making payments.

Repairs needed 

In St. Joseph County, as in many rural areas, low wages mean renters struggle more to pay rent than city dwellers.

Median rent in the county has increased from $743 in 2021 to $825 in 2023. About two in 10 renters, with a median income of $41,000 per year, pay more than half of their income for housing costs.

A one-bedroom apartment that rents for $650 a month might be affordable in Battle Creek but out of reach for someone in Three Rivers, says Whitney Wardell, president and CEO of Neighborhoods Inc. of Battle Creek, which recently began coordinating homelessness prevention services for St. Joseph County.

Her agency regularly battles landlords who won’t accept third-party rent because their apartments wouldn’t pass inspection.

To keep renters in their homes, rural communities need to enable good-paying jobs and insist on affordable rentals that aren’t falling apart, Wardell says.

A 2021 housing study commissioned by the St. Joseph County Human Services Commission said the county has too many run-down homes.

Outside investors regularly buy old houses in poor condition, divide them into rentals, and let the properties further degrade, according to the report. Unless the county confronts its aging, deteriorating properties and makes them livable, rental properties will continue to decline in quality, the report says.

While creating new housing has been the county’s top priority, county Housing Coordinator Clayton Lyczynski II reports several efforts to improve the value of current homes. As a member of the Southwest Michigan Regional Housing Partnership, he advocates to get money to rural Southwest Michigan to help protect housing stock.

The MI Neighborhood Program through the Michigan State Housing Development Authority is funnelling hundreds of thousands of dollars into St. Joseph County, earmarked for providing energy efficiency upgrades for current homes. The grant money is intended for resident homeowners and can’t prepare a home for rental, but the repairs can keep run-down homes from being turned into even more run-down rentals, Lyczynski said.

Rent support

While the county improves housing options, other groups support individuals at risk of eviction.

“They are working. They’re trying to make ends meet,” says Amber Leverette, director of development for Community Action of South Central Michigan.

But one car repair bill, medical expense, or other emergency can turn into an eviction notice, Leverette says.

“Helping somebody a little bit with one month of rent can mean all the difference in them being successful in all the other areas in their life,” says Laura Jones, assistant director of development and support services for the agency. 

Community Action helps St. Joseph County residents pay missed rent to avoid eviction. They can only offer the assistance to tenants who can actually afford their rent payments. “That can be a challenge if their rent is super high and their income is super low,” Jones says.

Sometimes, one-time financial assistance through a tough time is enough.

“I’d like to think, yes, it does help,” Jones says. The agency doesn’t see a lot of repeat clients asking for help a second time, she says. But they can’t follow up with every client to know whether the help created long-term stability. 

In many communities, housing advocates can use the state’s Emergency Solutions Grant to pay rental arrears for very low-income renters, or to help them pay starting costs for a new rental once they lose housing. In St. Joseph County, Neighborhood Inc. struggles to spend the full grant allotment each year. It’s too hard to find rental units priced low enough, and in good enough condition, to qualify for that funding, Wardell says.

Even when funding does reach struggling tenants, short-term assistance doesn’t fix the underlying issues that contribute to long-term housing instability.

Diverting and restabilizing

A recent state program could lessen the impact of eviction. Neighborhoods Inc. was one of six agencies chosen to pilot MSHDA’s Shelter Diversion Program. The agency received a $500,000, two-year grant with few restrictions on how it could be used, as long as it addressed a housing crisis.

The grant money paid for vehicle repairs, baby formula, emergency motel stays, home furnishings, and other needs, such as helping a woman get her driver’s license.

Seemingly small assistance can make a big difference for someone in a financial crunch, especially in a rural area, says Nakeiyah Alexander, shelter diversion case manager for Neighborhoods Inc.

The flexibility of the Shelter Diversion Program lets housing advocates meet the most urgent need, Alexander says. That includes paying overdue rent for apartments that don’t qualify under the Emergency Solutions Grant.

The Shelter Diversion Program recently announced a new round of funding, including $165,000 for the Kalamazoo area. If Neighborhood Inc. receives more funding after their grant ends in June, they don’t know what that will look like for providing support in St. Joseph County, which was not under the agency’s umbrella when it received the grant. 

The program is not intended to prevent eviction, emphasized Jennifer McNeely, MSHDA program specialist in homelessness solutions. Instead, it primarily catches people after they lose a home and restabilizes them as quickly as possible.

And that’s important, because once people become unhoused, it’s harder to get them back into stable housing.

Losing it all

“A lot of people just don’t appreciate what they have,” says Tabitha Knight, of Sturgis. “And I come from a place where I appreciate everything.”

Knight’s one-room unit at the Maple Towers Apartments is nothing fancy, but, after seven years in and out of homelessness, she knows what it takes to get into stable housing once you lose it.

She left a domestic abuse situation some years ago, with two children in tow and no income but child support. Since then, she has moved from shelters to family members’ homes to a camper, where she spent last winter with no heat. Several programs promised they would help her pay rent, but only if she could find a place to live, and waiting lists for those stretched as long as two years. A state voucher program that once promised rent help seems unlikely to add to its lengthy waiting list any time soon.

“You have to fall on your face and have absolutely nothing in order to get help,” Knight says.

Her supplemental security income, which kicked in a few years ago, now gives her something to save. Last spring Knight moved into Maple Towers, operated by the Sturgis Housing Commission. She even has a job, hired by the Housing Commission to clean 10 hours a week.

She’s never been evicted. If that ever happens, her prospects for finding housing again dip even further.

“You’re looking at shelter time when your eviction is gonna go through,” Knight says. “There’s no guarantee that you’re going to find somebody to accept you with your record. An eviction is an eviction.”

She struggles with depression and wakes up anxious and tearful most mornings, but, “I’m still in a better place than I was,” Knight says. She tries to encourage other people in the building, who don’t seem to realize what losing their housing could look like. 

“If you’ve got a roof over your head and a kitchen to cook in, be thankful,” Knight says. “Because there’s a lot of people that don’t.”

‘It’s a group effort’

When Tim Hill assumed directorship of Maple Towers in 2021, he discovered a building about to be shut down, rife with drug abuse and guns in the hallways.

“This place used to be called ‘Meth Towers,’” says Deputy Director Nikki Barringer, also fairly new to her role. She and Hill improved the building, upped security, and cracked down on evictable offenses, including removing a woman they discovered had been selling methamphetamine from her apartment.

“You don’t want to evict people,” Barringer says. “Because you don’t know where they’re going to go.”

A lot of their low-income tenants need mental health help, but few can get treatment in the rural area, Barringer says.

One long-time tenant lives in a dangerously unhygienic state and won’t accept help and is becoming a hazard to other tenants. Another, who refuses to take her medication, is being evicted after almost setting her apartment on fire.

“It breaks your heart, but what do you do?” Barringer frets.

She and Hill dream of adding a new wing to offer financial training, provide memory care, and fill other gaps that would help tenants stay in stable housing. They can’t afford that any time soon, they know. Barringer says she wants to do some of that work herself, but, “my plate is over-full.”

Communities that truly want to keep people housed, Barringer suggests, will fight for better mental health support and more housing options. They’ll work to break cycles of abuse. They’ll donate to local charities and teach kids basic money management skills.

“It’s a group effort,” Barringer says. “And you hope that they take that kindness and pay it forward.”

This story is part of Southwest Michigan Journalism Collaborative’s dedicated coverage of quality of life issues and equitable community development. SWMJC is a group of 12 regional organizations dedicated to strengthening local journalism. Visit swmichjournalism.com to learn more.