February 3, 2021

Experts say an eviction avalanche is coming. But thousands of Chicago renters have already been pushed to the brink of the housing cliff.

By Justin Agrelo, Natalie Frazier, Malik Jackson and Woojae Julia Song; Art by Raziel Puma

Andre Wallace* has wanted to move for months. The West Garfield Park apartment he shares with his partner and their two small children is falling apart. The young couple didn’t even have a usable kitchen the first two months of living there. Water pours from the ceiling whenever it rains, causing debris to fall into the apartment. The bathwater sometimes runs brown—if it runs at all. 

Wallace has struggled to get his landlord to fix anything. He’s been tempted to report the egregious building code violations to the city, especially in his bouts of frustration with the place. But he’s always chosen to cut the owners some slack—exchanging idle threats for empty promises. 

“He kept saying ‘work with me, work with me.’ And I'm young, so I'm working with him,” Wallace says about his landlord. “And nothing.”

After his ceiling began caving in and a bad stumble down the building’s crumbling porch nearly put him out of work, Wallace decided enough was enough. It was time to move. Then the COVID-19 pandemic hit. 

Wallace’s hours were cut at the Mercedes Benz dealership where he’s been working for years. Then his partner lost her job at Dunkin’ Donuts—both a direct result of the pandemic’s impact on Chicago’s economy where thousands of jobs have disappeared, at least 3,200 businesses have permanently shuttered and lower-income households like Wallace’s were hit the hardest. 

When the beginning of May rolled around, the young couple knew they wouldn’t be able to make their rent. “We was nervous,” Wallace remembers. “But then again, I've bypassed calling the city and reporting so much, I'm like maybe the landlord will work with us.” 

Two months later, on July 10, 2020, Wallace’s landlord filed to evict the young family. It wasn’t until he received a letter from City Bureau reporters in October that he learned of it.

Wallace was among over 1,500 Chicagoans who were hit with a residential eviction filing after the shelter-in-place was implemented on March 21, 2020. Despite the statewide ban on evictions, landlords are still filing paperwork to oust renters who pose “a direct threat to the health and safety of other tenants” or “an immediate and severe risk to property.” Wallace and at least six other people we spoke with for this project say they believe they were hit with a filing because they owed rent, not because of health and safety concerns.

For months, housing advocates have warned of a looming eviction crisis where as many as 31% of Illinois residents could be evicted once local, state and federal protections expire. But while the moratorium has reduced eviction filings by 77%, it hasn’t stopped landlords from forcing tenants out through more aggressive means like illegal lockouts, harassment or threats of violence. For undocumented immigrants, who are often afraid to assert their housing rights for fear of getting deported or caught in the criminal justice system, the stakes are even higher.

“People are already leaving,” says Moises Moreno, director of the Pilsen Alliance, which connects residents to emergency housing, food and other social services. “There's already displacement happening. You don’t have to wait till the courts reopen.”

Tenants who’ve lost their sources of income during the pandemic have few options when it comes to cash assistance. When the Chicago Department of Housing opened its first round of rental assistance last spring, 83,000 people applied for just two thousand grants. Whether grant programs were government-run or cobbled together by grassroots mutual aid groups, the demand has far outpaced the supply.

Last fall, City Bureau reporters set out to speak with Chicagoans like Wallace—folks who are being sued in eviction court or otherwise forced out of their homes during an unprecedented global pandemic and economic crisis. Our goal was to learn and document what the so-called “eviction avalanche” looks like in material terms for everyday people in a city with an especially dark history of racist housing practices. For many working-class and lower-income Black and brown tenants like Wallace, this is not news: The pandemic has only exacerbated an ongoing housing crisis.  

In several of the stories that follow, we changed people’s names at their request. Some worried about retaliation from their landlords. Others feared the public shame that is often placed on poor and working-class people who are down on their luck and just trying to survive. These names have been marked with an asterisk.

We heard stories of struggle and loss. We learned how an eviction filing can be weaponized against tenants, often without their knowledge. How easily people fell through the cracks of an ineffective eviction ban and inadequate support systems. How one missed rent payment can devastate an entire family, tossing them into an underbelly of housing instability where survival means cramming into a small, overpriced hotel room with four other people at a time when we were told to keep our distance. 

And like many Chicago stories, we also heard examples of ingenuity and resourcefulness. We spoke with community groups and public officials who are actively working toward solutions—whether through legislation, tenant organizing, direct service or activism. We witnessed people refuse to give in to despair despite the incredible odds stacked against them. Most of the people we spoke with remained hopeful that better days would soon arrive—either through political will or their own genius. 

Here are seven of those stories, as told to City Bureau reporters. These interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.

Andre* - West Garfield Park 

I grew up on the West Side of Chicago. Born and raised. I’ve never been affiliated with any gangs or anything like that. I've tried my best to stay clean. I've been working at the same job for about six years. My partner was working for Dunkin’ Donuts. She was there for like, two, three years. And I've been working for the car dealership. My life was fine. I mean, I was 22, 23 years old with two kids. It's not the best thing to do at that age, but I was making a living for me and mine.

I found this apartment through my auntie, who stays downstairs on the first floor. She’s been there for 15 years. I was looking for a place to stay and just raise me and my little family, you know? After I signed my lease and gave this man my money, I actually went all the way into my auntie’s apartment [for the first time]. She’s 78 years old and she had no ceiling in her bathroom or kitchen due to water damage. They still come and collect $800 from her every month knowing the condition of the apartment. 

I started running into problems when I kept paying the owner’s son all of my money, and this guy wasn't coming to my house to fix anything. Every time I say I’m going to call and report this to the city, she'll promise me, saying “Oh, I’m going to do this for you and do that for you.” And then I fall into the trap. I'll pay her rent and then I won't see her again. So it comes to a point where I'm like, OK, I'm gonna take $100 from the rent, and I'm going to repair what I need inside the apartment. Some days I can't put my kids in the tub because we don't get no water out of the pipe. We get brown water some days. We get no water some days.

I was planning on moving out at the beginning of [2020]. But then COVID hit and I literally got stuck here. Nobody's showing apartments or things like that. Things got hard. My hours got cut. My girlfriend lost her job and then everything was just left on me. She can't work now because somebody’s got to be home with the e-learning.

Eventually, I fell behind on rent. It was like, OK I’m going to pay rent or I’m going to buy food and try to survive out here. It was hard. I'm the only one working, trying to pay the rent, the light bill, keep our phones on.

By the time I heard about the housing grants, it was too late. The landlady called me and asked me if I could apply for it. Why would I apply to give you a $5,000 grant when you’re not doing what you're supposed to do with the money that you're getting now—money that you're stealing from me and my auntie every month? It didn't make sense to me. 

I didn't know anything about the [eviction] filing before you sent me the letter. That was the first time I've received anything about that. We shouldn't have to be penalized due to COVID-19—something that we didn't have nothing to do with. I think they should give a rent forgiveness program. They should hold off on eviction notices for working families who are trying to make a living. But then you also have landlords who just use and abuse their tenants.

Sandra* - Belmont Cragin

My five-year-old is in kindergarten. He's in speech therapy. My daughter has ADHD. She's not able to control herself at times. I'm a mom that’s constantly behind my kids. If they get in trouble, I'm there. If they need a field trip, I'm there. 

They’re doing the e-learning thing when they didn't even have laptops. My son is doing his homework on his phone. Two of my kids are teenagers. They don't really want to do the work. I've been having arguments with them. I tell them, you have to finish your school. It's something good for you. Maybe if I would have listened to my parents and stayed in school, I wouldn’t be in this situation. 

A lot of things have happened. I lost hours at work. You know how these places are. If there’s no customers, they send you home. My boss was like, “You’re a good worker. You just have bad luck.” My husband was out of work for four months. It was hard for him to find a job. I can’t rely on him. He always loses his jobs because he’s not from here. He’s trying to legalize his citizenship.

That house was falling apart and [the landlord] never did nothing to make it better. I rented the first floor. My light and gas were also connected to the basement unit but [the landlord] never gave me money for that. That left me in debt for $3,000. I tried talking to him about it and he's like, “now you're gone, so we don't have to discuss anything.” 

I lost my apartment because I wasn't able to pay my rent. I had to go and live with one of my sisters-in-law. I wasn't evicted. I just received this phone call saying that they were going to come and kill me and my family if I didn't give them the money. The first one to receive messages like this was my husband, then my son, then me. I filed a police report. I changed our phone numbers. I was afraid for my life, honestly, because you don't know if it's a joke or not. 

I was like, OK, what the heck? What's going on? Why is this happening to me? What did I do? I'm a working person—I work and work and still, it's hard. It's hard. 

When I left that apartment, I left it nice. When I went back for my stuff, it was all dirty and filthy. I had to get rid of a lot. Right now, I only have like $50. I have to buy a curtain for my new apartment. I don't have sofas. I have a dining room set, but it's falling apart. I have maybe three or four dishes. My kids need jackets, and I’m thinking, “Where am I going to get this?”

I tried to reach out to so many organizations. I said, “I want nothing for me. I just want stuff for my babies.”

I have a house now. I thank God, my son was working. He was working at Domino’s. He helped me out with $1,300. I’m proud of him. I’m like, “Baby, I’ll pay you back when I get my taxes.” And he’s like, “It’s fine, mom. Whenever you can.” He’s motivated to go to college to be a paramedic. He’s always encouraging me and I'm blessed for that. He tells me, “One day, you will stop working and just enjoy life. One day, you will have your own house, your own place, by yourself. That’s why I’m going to school. I’m going to make you proud, mom.” 

Ruth* - North Lawndale

The apartment is falling apart. When I first moved in, [the landlord] wouldn’t even change my carpet. There’s mildew. There’s plumbing issues. Electricity issues. With the plumbing issues, I have to wait 30 minutes to an hour to take a shower. One day the water is warm, one day it’s cold. All these issues and you’re harassing me about rent? 

Even before COVID-19, I never saw my landlord. Only time I see him or hear from him [is when] the guy downstairs needs something to be fixed or he’s coming to get mail. The only reason I took this apartment is because he made promises. He told me everything is going to be done. But he hasn’t done anything.

I lost my job due to the COVID-19. My landlord couldn’t understand that, so he gave me a five-day [eviction] notice. I haven’t been back to work since. I told him I applied for the rental assistance and he had to do his part. I guess he didn’t want to do his part. He just wants me out of his apartment. 

I explained to him that I don’t have the funds to move out. Next thing you know, I’m getting a postcard in the mail saying he’s suing me. It got to the point that he turned my hot water off. I reached out to the city and he turned it back on. 

I’m trying to leave anyway. It’s too much going on with this apartment. It’s falling apart. I know it’s going to be hard to get an apartment with him putting this eviction on my record. I’m tired of living like this with my kids. I have a little baby that’s four years old. I want my kids to be comfortable. I’m willing to move because I don’t want to go through the eviction process. I just need help. 

Kim* - Kenwood Oakland

CW: This section contains details about sexual assault 

I was born in Atlanta and raised in Louisiana. I'm a Southern girl. I moved up here at 18 to go to college. I transferred into UIC with hella credits as a Black person in STEM. I couldn't really afford school. I figured I’d find the money but that didn't happen. 

I ended up suffering [sexual] assault that set me back a lot mentally. I wasn't performing well in my classes. Subsequently, I couldn't pay for school or to stay on campus. I talked to deans. I talked to professors. I told them my story and everything. And there was no [solution] for what was going on. 

I couldn’t go back home. At the time, my mom was also suffering from houselessness. She was trying to figure out her own situation. She got me in contact with a relative up here who lives on the West Side in Austin. I ended up leaving UIC and staying with my family and sleeping on their couch for like four months. My stuff was in boxes. I was still recovering from being assaulted.

I [later] moved into a basement apartment in Kenwood Oakland. From the very first day that I moved in, there were issues with the apartment. The countertops were horrible. The cabinets were falling off the wall. There was water damage, gaps in the cabinetry near the floor where mice could crawl in—all types of shit. Mold started developing in the bathroom around the one-year mark. I would call them to come fix the mold. And they would come out and paint over it with mold paint. I was sneezing a lot. 

In July or August, a smell started developing in one of the three rooms. It was mildew. The smell was so bad that the person who stayed in the room couldn’t stay there anymore. The apartment was affecting our health. We were in there coughing and sneezing all the time. We couldn't breathe well. I was like, OK, I'm not finna do this. At the end of August, I'm like, I'm not gonna pay rent for September because you haven't fixed anything. The property manager said after I fix this stuff, we're gonna raise your rent to $1,300. And I'm like, you're not gonna raise my rent for this apartment to $1,300 from $865? Have you lost your mind?

Eventually, I went on an apartment search. The city [rental assistance] application was closed before I could apply. I left my job when my hours were significantly reduced; pandemic jobs are scarce. I ended up doing a GoFundMe. That was a really big thing for me to ask people for help. I'm a person who's never asked for help. Despite everything that I've told you—being assaulted twice, being homeless, having issues surrounding housing—I've never said I need this or I need that. I just have handled it on my own.

I loved the neighborhood in my old apartment. I'd been in that neighborhood for so long. I was super sad to leave. But I like the neighborhood I'm in now [Washington Park]. I love my new apartment. I feel comfortable and free. I like how responsive the people are. Now I'm in a space where if I'm coughing and sneezing, it’s not because of mold or mildew, it’s because maybe the neighbor was smoking, you know? And that's a little bit different to handle.

I'm still in school. I'm playing catch-up in my classes. I was so focused on trying to get a safe place to live that my classes suffered. And I got counseling. I'm at a better place now. But I also have a lot of school anxiety. I'm studying integrated health science with a minor in chemistry. I want to be a doctor. This entire time—from when I was 18 to 24—I went to school every single semester even if I failed my classes, even if I was homeless or I was suffering from depression. I still went to school. All of this is testimony to how anybody can do something if they put their mind to it. 

Graciela - Brighton Park 

It’s been more than two years since I moved in. Being on the first floor is perfect for me. It's hard for me to go up and down the stairs. I have asthma. I live with my granddaughter, my granddaughter's girlfriend and my granddaughter’s girlfriend's son. They worry about me, you know. I had a near-death experience a few years back. They had to perform emergency surgery. They said that I had died on the table and they had to bring me back.

I always was on time with the [rent] money. I worked with UPS for almost 16 years. I get a pension. It’s a small one, but it helps me to buy the necessary stuff—bathroom tissues, shampoo.

The bathroom had a broken window, and I've had to use plastic in the winter to cover up the cold coming in. The pests, it's year-round. The ceiling is always throwing water into my room. In the winter, they have to put an electric heater in the bedroom. They [my landlords] always say, “Don't worry about it. We'll take care of it.” That's all I get. Promises, promises, promises. And to this day, I haven't gotten anything done.

In July, I offered [one of] my landlords, who is an older woman, to make the repairs in the apartment by using some of the rent money, and giving her the remaining balance plus receipts. She says, "No, I don't want that… if you don't give me the rent then I want you to move.” 

I looked at her, like, what? Are you seriously telling me you want me to leave because I offered to fix the apartment? I just don't get it. I've been waiting on you to fix the apartment for two years. You're more interested in the money than helping out your tenant. At that point, I started withholding rent. 

About 10 days later, she gave me a five-day notice. I got a letter from the court a couple of days ago for my eviction court date. Because of the coronavirus, it's through an online video connection. My landlord did not even tell me that she was going to evict me.

I'm afraid that the judge is gonna tell us that we have to leave. We don't have anywhere to go. I mean, I like this house very much. If that goes on my credit report, I'm screwed. I cannot get put out on the street.

I didn’t have a lawyer. I was expecting to be able to say something when the judge called out my case. And instead, the opposing attorney was the one talking and I didn’t get a chance to really say anything. She [the judge] just asked me who I was and where I live and then that was it. I think we were only on camera for 15, 20 minutes. It was quick. Before I knew it, she said she wanted to continue the case [on a later date].

Just recently, they turned off the furnace in the basement, so now, I'm using our stove to warm up the house. Yesterday, I noticed water was coming down into my bedroom again. This year alone, I've had water come into my room about four times.

I reminded her that this is what I wanted to be taken care of before it got out of control. I asked you if I could do the repairs and you told me that you’d rather see me move. You've made this situation bad, not me. I offered to help you and you asked me to leave.

Mattice - Morgan Park 

We were staying with family members here and there. I have a couple sisters here in Illinois. They had their own rules and it was just time for us to leave. There was a lot of pressure for me to hurry up and find something. When you’re under pressure with three kids and a wife, you don’t have no other choice. We was out on the street at the time. 

Then we found a place. My landlord was a friend. He went to the same school I went to. He knew the same people I knew. He said he had a house for rent, so I moved in. It was five people in a two-bedroom house. We stayed there for almost two years. I can show you pictures of all kinds of craziness. The sink was leaking. The ceiling had water damage and was falling off on the kids’ heads. The back door didn’t have glass in the windows. It was wrapped in plastic. Things like that. It was very, very uncomfortable. 

I’m a truck driver. Before the pandemic came, my rent and everything was paid. We was fine. I was making a substantial amount of money; they wouldn’t even let me apply for food stamps. Then the truck business started drying up. A lot of drivers didn’t have no work throughout the pandemic.

I got let go around March or April. The first time I missed rent was in May. I called him and said, “Hey man, I’m laid off. It’s going to be hard for me to pay rent this month. Let me try to at least pay something next month.” He didn’t even say anything. Then two or three weeks later, he said he filed the eviction. Said the sheriff was going to come and serve me some eviction papers. He didn’t try to work anything out. That’s what was so strange about it. I missed only a month going into the second month. There’s some people who miss longer than that.

I was surprised. As a friend, you know I've got three kids and a wife. You know COVID-19 hurt a lot of people. You know that. Why would you do this? Then you want to make it harder for me to get a new place to live. How can I move from your house when you put an eviction on my name, making it harder for me to get a new place to live? You know, they look at that. But he looked at it as a business, not a friendship.

Now we’re staying in a hotel. We’ve been staying in and out of hotels since then. I had to leave some of our stuff. Our stove, refrigerator, clothes, food, you know. I don't know what happened to it. Maybe he kept it.

The hotel room is small. It’s only two beds. Five people with two beds in one room. Me and my wife sleep on the floor. I can’t let my kids sleep on the floor. When we first moved in, the room was like $112 a day. But since I’ve been there for a while, they dropped the taxes and the room price. They were more lenient with me. 

My wife wasn’t working. That’s what made it even harder. Unemployment was just half of my paycheck. But by the grace of God, unemployment was something I was fortunate to get. It was a struggle for some months—at least three months. It felt like a year. I wish I would have talked to you before this. If you had told me that they weren’t putting no evictions out yet, I probably would still be there. But I looked at it like, as long as my kids are eating, I’m all right. As long as they have a roof over their heads, they OK.

This pandemic, it’s a hard thing. It’s something we ain’t never seen before. The government should step in and not let the landlords do us like this. It’s not our fault we lost our income due to the virus. But we’ll be OK. God got us. As long as he got me I’ll be all right. I’m never going to get down on myself.

I’m back working now. I’m back driving. I started back in October. I see myself trying to get my own truck one day. That’s my future. My future is great. 

Tisha* - South Chicago

CW: This section contains details about intimate partner violence

I'm a single mother of five. I grew up in the low-end of Chicago. I grew up like any Chicago kid, you know. There was struggles, trying to make it while living in different shelters. My mom couldn't really do it on her own, so she had to give us to whoever could take care of us. We transferred schools a lot because we moved around a lot. That was very hard. The worst part was getting to know our friends then having to go to another school. I lived with my grandma for five years. She raised me to who I am now. 

Everything was going OK until I experienced real bad domestic violence from my kids’ father in February 2020. I was working as a cashier at Shark’s Chicken. I lost my job a month after we moved in due to my face being messed up and me not wanting to go to work like that. My boss fired me. He didn’t believe I was going through domestic violence. He thought I just kept calling off from work for no reason, but I wasn’t. He was paying me cash so there was no way to get unemployment. When you’re getting paid cash, it’s like you’re not even working. 

I was in the hospital for a while. My kid’s father messed up a lot of things in my face. When I got out, I had a conversation with my landlord with my face all swollen. I let him know that I was behind on rent because I wasn’t able to work. He said, it’s fine. We’ll figure things out. After that day, I didn’t see him again. Because of COVID, I couldn’t find a new job to at least try to pay him some type of money and get to some type of agreement. The city had shut down. People wasn’t hiring. It was very hard.

I actually thought he would be a nice, understanding guy. But I see how it is when people don't get their money. He started coming around, doing little things to get me out of the apartment illegally. He started turning off my water. He broke my furnace. He turned my lights out. He took my cat. The city [ticketed] him after I called 311 to make complaints after he broke my furnace. 

While I was sleeping in my room with my kids, he came into the apartment to give me a five-day notice. I woke up to go to the bathroom and there he was, standing in my living room. I asked, “Why are you here?” He’s like, “Oh, I’m giving you a five-day notice. You have five days to go, or I’m going to just put everything outside.” I told him he had to take me to court and he’s like, “I’m not doing that, here’s a five-day notice,” and just walked off. I called the police right after he left and made a report. My kids were scared. We left the apartment for the night because I didn’t know if he was coming back. That was scary.

The day the apartment went up in flames, I was at the hospital supporting my best friend. She had just had her baby. After I left the hospital, I picked my kids up from my mother’s house. She lives a couple of blocks away from me. By the time we get home, I saw smoke coming from the back of the house. I called 911 and then my mother. The fire department said the fire started because of a cigarette, but I don’t believe it. Most of our stuff burned or was totaled because of the smoke. We were all crying because that’s all we had. We have nothing now except the clothes we had on our backs that day.

I’ve been trying to get donations now. My pride makes it very hard for me to suck up to ask for handouts because I'm so used to doing everything on my own. But right now I need a lot of help. I was trying to find some domestic violence assistance. I kept calling the domestic violence court, I think. I left voice messages after voice messages, but they never called me back. I’ve been trying to get relocated. My partner is actually incarcerated still right now because of me.

The city should really look into these evictions before they just start evicting people. They should really take their time to really hear the people's side of the story. I just want people to know that you don't have to go through domestic violence. It's not cool. It's not something that you should take at all. That's the one thing for sure. Everybody deserves better, everybody deserves happiness in life. 

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