Evicted Project

The speaker describes their difficult living situation in a small and rundown apartment in Milwaukee. They talk about the struggles their family faces, including financial difficulties, landlord issues, and living in filth. They mention their efforts to find a new place to live and the poor condition of their current apartment, including plumbing problems and roaches. The speaker also discusses their interactions with their landlord, Sherina, and their plans to move to Brownsville, Tennessee. They reflect on the challenges they faced and the stability they finally achieved in their new home. The speaker concludes by mentioning the impact of the immigration process on their family and their determination to escape the cycle of poverty. All eight of us lived in 18th and Wright, three generations in two bedrooms. I was the head of the household, caring for my four children, three grandchildren, and our dog Coco. The house was too small. They always were. I called it the rat hole for a reason. Struggle was the only thing my family knew. Landlord debt, spousal abuse, shootings, and living in filth were common themes of my family's world. Lamar, the single father with no legs, is our neighbor. He's the only person I know in this new neighborhood. It was cramped living in the apartment. I slept with Natasha on a bed, which often led to restless nights. Through the hardships, we were always a family who liked to prank each other, especially on birthdays. Unfortunately, we have not been able to celebrate Christmas for quite some time. When Patrice moved in from upstairs, Sharina informed me that she had been pirating electricity. This bill set us back $200. We had no power in our kitchen for several months. We ate dinner out of cans and smelled the rotten food coming from the refrigerator. The electricity was the least of our worries. The apartment at this point was desecrated. The back door was off its hinges, the walls had holes, and the bathroom was filthy. The kitchen windows were cracked, and the whole house was dark because Patrice hung up thick blankets. Filthy clothes piled up, along with roaches living on the furniture. I, along with my family, saw this apartment as temporary. We immediately started looking for new places as soon as we moved in. The damages and roaches would be here when we left, and we were fine with that. Our old apartment was spacious, and we felt connected to the neighborhood. I interacted with my neighbors and kept peace in the area. We all pooled our money for that apartment and for our current one. I got a child support supplement and an SSI totaling $1,124. I never finished high school, and at an early age I had a leg injury. Everything was going well in our old house until 2005 when Hurricane Katrina hit Louisiana. I had to do something. I went down to New Orleans to help families in need. Since the trip had taken rent money, my family fell behind. We had been loyal to our landlord, however, so he let us stay. Then a shooting happened outside our house, and DNS issued orders to our landlord. We were evicted within five days. Again, I see this apartment as temporary. I've searched the Red Book and called landlords. Our apartment is falling apart. I called a plumber, and they told me the plumbing was sensitive. Our sink got backed up, which led to our bathtub having concrete-colored water inside of it. The toilet was also barely working. My family had to boil water to take sponge baths and flush the water down the toilet. We paid the plumber $150 and took it out of the rent money. Sherina, our landlord, threatened us with an eviction notice. Sherina never seemed to care about the state of her units. Sherina had the right to evict us because of my daughter, Patrice, and because she was living as an unauthorized boarder. At the same time, I found out my other daughter, Natasha, was pregnant. I was thrilled while she was mortified. I began contemplating moving the family to Brownsville, where a family reunion was taking place. Natasha wanted to stay in Milwaukee with her boyfriend, Malik, but I did not care about him. While Malik was stepping up as a future father, men were still not a big factor to consider when planning the family's future. I was still looking for a new place when Sherina and Quintin returned from Jamaica. My social worker, Tabitha, called Sherina to try to get her to fix the plumbing. Sherina, of course, blamed it on us. After we had hired a plumber, the pipes once again backed up. Tabitha also made the mistake of telling Sherina we were planning on moving. Sherina immediately filled an eviction notice that would be on consolidated court automation programs, making it nearly impossible for any family to find a new place. I called Sherina and pleaded that we were not trying to move in the middle of winter, but maybe sometime in May. I told her I would pay the money, but she refused to accept it. I woke up on January 27th with a throbbing pain in my foot caused by the door slamming down on it. I had to go to eviction court downtown. When I arrived at the courthouse, Sherina was already in a bad mood. After talking for a while, we agreed to a stipulation. I would have to pay an extra $400 next month and $50 extra for the next three months. By February, I managed to clear my debt with Sherina because of the tax credits I received. At the same time, I found out about the fire at Kamala's apartment and the death of her eight-month-old baby. I just hoped something like this would never happen to my family because of the lack of sympathy they showed to Kamala and Devon, this being their second child they lost. I overheard the firefighters say that they did not hear smoke detectors when they arrived. Now, if this was just a world we live in, Sherina and Quinton would be liable for this. But Sherina is never going to be held accountable. The worst was all Sherina was concerned with was if she was going to have to cover anything. How could a woman whose old student just lost their home and daughter have no consideration for what that poor family was enduring? The next day, I took a stroll past a recently decimated house, and all I was left to observe was the horrid landscape of the charcoal wood beams and sharp jagged icicles dangling from them. Amongst this ugliness, the only beauty left were six lilies tied together in remembrance of the innocent child that was forgotten in the house and now in the world. Our apartment was in disrepair. The toilet was blocked up again. The kitchen sink was overflowing with gray water, and roaches were filling cabinets. I did not bother calling Sherina. I was behind on rent, so there was no chance Quinton, her husband and business partner, would come to fix it. A plumber would be no use, as I would be helping Sherina, which was the last thing I wanted to do. Our family became detached from our house as the damages and filth got worse and worse. I stopped cooking and fell into a lethargic state. Our whole family was suffering. The kids' grades fell, Patrice slept more, and Natasha spent almost all of her time in her boyfriend's house. Trash and clothes piled up, and no one bothered to clean it up. Looking into my house, or as I like to call it, the shack, just reminded me of how poor our family was. So I simply gave up. We often went to the library to escape our house. The kids could play computer games, and I had the opportunity to look up houses online. I never did. Soon, Natasha had her baby and brought him back to the rat hole. We got out of Milwaukee. We finally moved to Brownsville, Tennessee. Life seemed to get better when we were there. We lived in a three-bedroom house. Patrice got her GED and went on to community college with the hope of becoming a parole officer. For once in my life, I had stability. I could not have imagined the life I had back in Milwaukee. Immigration is a brutal and inhumane process that tore our family apart. We were just strong enough to bring ourselves back up and escape the poverty cycle.