'A place that felt like home'

This summer, I'm celebrating 24 years as a proud homeowner. But getting to this point wasn't ever a foregone conclusion. In the United States, only 44% of Black Americans own their homes, and in Ohio, where I live, the number is even lower. Growing up, I was only a part of that 44% for the briefest moment. 

 

My family had always rented, moving from one place to the next, and for a time, even living with one of my mom's closet friends. Her kids became some of our closest friends, too, which was a good thing since we shared bedrooms and bathrooms. Then, one day, my mom came home with a check from a "bank." We were getting a home of our own. I remember the pride we felt in having something that was ours: Our own rooms, our own porch, our own back yard. I could finally have a pet! But soon after we moved in, things changed again. Electricity, heat and water were disconnected regularly. I hadn't realized it then, but my mom had fallen victim to a predatory loan. We lasted three years before the bank foreclosed. I was still in high school. Moving around hadn't been new for us, but this time when we moved out, it felt different.  

 

I wanted to follow another path and to forge it, and I had a secret weapon: My Aunt Laffie. Everyone needs a mentor. For me, it was my aunt, who always held a job and always owned her own home. I wanted to be like her. After the foreclosure, I moved in with her to remain in my high school district. I also started working at McDonalds every hour that I could.

 

I saw how Aunt Laffie raised her children to get a degree beyond high school. "No one can sell me like me," she would say, meaning I had to learn my worth and my value. She wanted me to know that I was smart and beautiful and should not take anything for granted. Having my own home and making sure I could afford it became my goal and my reason for working.

 

After I got married, the housing agency I worked for, Neighborhood Progress, Inc., helped my husband, Craig, and me understand the steps we needed to take toward homeownership. Craig's mom and grandmother were both homeowners, so he was on board to purchase even before I was. We walked out of our first meeting knowing that we had a lot of work to do.

 

 

My coworkers suggested I visit a NeighborWorks network organization that was then called NHS of Greater Cleveland (now a part of Cleveland Housing Network). I went to what was basically homeownership bootcamp, an 8-hour class that helped me learn all there was to buying a home, from understanding my spending habits and how to read my credit report, to working with a team of professionals – a housing counselor, a real estate agent, a home inspector and beyond. The course didn't require both my husband and I to attend, but Craig was learning so much through me, he ended up going to learn some things on his own.

 

The course also taught us how to own a home — from the mechanics to knowing how to be a good neighbor. At the end, we received a certificate and a reference book that was worth its weight in gold. NHS of Greater Cleveland had a partnership with local banks that recognized the certificates and showed the loan officer we understood what homeownership entailed. A week later, we had an appointment to speak with a bank; the following week, we had approval for a loan we could afford.

 

I'd learned other lessons, too: What not to do from my mom, and what to do from Aunt Laffie. We knew we wanted a home that was in the right price range. We knew where we would compromise and where we wouldn't. 

 

We also took advantage of every financial resource availed to us: 

• Down payment assistance for first-time buyers. 

• Discounts for going through a homeownership course with my NeighborWorks nonprofit. 

• A HUD-approved agency that had so many local relationships we even received a discount card from Sherwin Williams for paint and a gift card for Home Depot. 

 

We were smarter financially and our credit showed that we were smarter consumers. We'd found a home within 30 days of our pre-approval. Less than two months later, we had the keys to a big house with three porches, a long driveway and a two-car garage. Our home became the gathering place for our families through all the seasons of the year.

 

Owning our home made a difference for both of us. We didn't need to negotiate with landlords. We didn't need to check with anyone if we could paint anything – maybe that's why I repainted the house with a different theme every year! We changed the look of the house, the front yard and the back. There was just a different feeling in the home we owned that we picked out and governed ourselves.  There is a pride that comes with it that is immeasurable. We built up both equity and savings. Then, just three years ago, we did it all again.

 

 

It was Lou Tisler, a colleague and friend, and now executive director of the National NeighborWorks Association, who nudged us to buy our next home. We had been in our first house for 20 years by then.  Lou would ask, given my new job as senior manager of Curriculum and Training at NeighborWorks America, and our better buying position, if we had given any thought to moving into a larger home. He saw opportunities beyond where we were.  

 

Our Cleveland neighborhood had been good to us. I was on the executive committee for my ward. I knew the mayor on a first-name basis. And I knew my voice counted. But a move made sense, especially for Craig, whose commute to work at that time was over an hour each way.

 

We started looking again, in Parma, closer to Craig's job. And we found the world hadn't progressed as much as we hoped it had. I know my history, and I know what Black people have faced with redlining and racism. That's one reason people of color have stayed away from Parma, which, in 2021, was 84.5% white. When we went house hunting, we could feel people staring at us. I don't run from a fight, but I don't run to one, either.

 

"Nope," I told Craig. "We are not moving here. Parma is not for us."

 

Still, the homes were beautiful and the area seemed safe. A better commute meant a better quality of life, which is probably why Craig kept looking even after I stopped. At the time, the pandemic had made the housing market even tighter. But one thing you should know about me: I pray about everything. And when my husband asked me to go see a particular house in Parma, I prayed again.

 

This time, things felt different. A neighbor a few doors down was walking his black lab. He was one of the kindest people I had ever met, and he told us who everyone was in the neighborhood. While still mostly white, this neighborhood was more diverse than some of the others we'd seen, with people who looked like me. It felt right.

 

This time, we didn't need a homeownership course before we put in an offer, because this time, we knew what we were doing thanks to what we'd learned years ago.

 

We moved into our new home in Parma – that's right: Parma – in 2021. The house has a big yard with a swimming pool and an enclosed hot tub. Craig and I have solid jobs, so we knew we could make our mortgage work. And while we had equity in our first home that could have helped with a down payment, we decided to hold on to that property, too. For my parents. I didn't want them to have to worry about a landlord anymore. I wanted them to have a place like I had — a place that felt like theirs; a place that felt like home.

 

This was my path to homeownership and understanding the importance of the training I needed to get to where I am today. I thank everyone, especially the staff and educators at NeighborWorks America! Now that I work for NeighborWorks America as the senior curriculum manager for the NeighborWorks Center for Homeownership Education and Counseling (NCHEC), I can't express into words how rewarding it is to be responsible for ensuring that across America, potential buyers, especially people of color, get the support they need to make the right choice for themselves and their families. In that, I am helping many achieve their own version of the American Dream!