Georgia’s housing crisis leaves families running in place

When 14-year-old Na’Kaya Godfrey gets home from school in Stone Mountain, she turns on the space heaters. They are the only source of warmth in the unheated house — the latest stop in a childhood defined by moving.

On her dresser sits a sign that reads “Home, Sweet Home.” She estimates this is the 26th place her family has lived.

Her mother, Jaimie Godfrey, 35, has been evicted, forced to leave rentals and shuffled her children between basements, extended-stay motels, rooming houses and, at times, their car. They have washed up in gas station bathrooms, lost belongings in storage units and watched their possessions piled on curbs.

Na’Kaya once asked her mother why they move so much. “Do they not like us?” she wondered.

Jaimie tells her she’s just “having a hard time.”

That hardship reflects a broader crisis. As rents surge and wages lag, eviction rates have climbed in cities including Atlanta. Families who are doubled up or constantly moving often aren’t counted as homeless, but the instability can be just as damaging.

For children, the effects are immediate and long-term. Research shows housing instability increases absenteeism, behavioral problems and lower test scores. Evicted children can fall behind academically by a year and are less likely to graduate.

Na’Kaya struggles with anxiety. She calls her mother repeatedly during late work shifts, unable to rest until she hears her voice. Junior, 12, acts out in school. Both say they only feel safe when the family is together.

Experts say this pattern is increasingly common. “The reason we’re seeing record-breaking homelessness is a basic mismatch between incomes and what it costs to live,” said journalist Brian Goldstone. “That chasm is growing wider.”

Children are now the group most likely to experience homelessness in the United States. Black families face disproportionately high eviction rates, and single mothers — like Jaimie — are especially vulnerable.

Jaimie has always worked. She has managed retail stores, staffed construction sites, baked pies for sale, braided hair, worked fast food and home health jobs — often juggling multiple roles. Still, the math never works. She has been waiting for housing assistance since 2017, but Atlanta’s voucher list has effectively been closed for years.

Government policy shifts have added new uncertainty. Proposed work requirements and cuts to rental assistance could make housing support harder to access, even as rents continue rising.

Community support has filled some gaps. A church friend helps cover the $1,275 monthly rent and bring groceries when food stamps run low. But even aid systems come with hurdles: childcare subsidies require proof of work hours — something nearly impossible to show without childcare in the first place.

“It gets to a point that it’s a catch-44,” one supporter said.

Some local programs show promise. In Atlanta, the Standing With Our Neighbors initiative embeds lawyers and social workers in schools to prevent evictions. Schools participating in the program have seen attendance and academic gains improve when families remain housed. But funding cuts threaten expansion.

Meanwhile, instability continues at home.

Recently, Jaimie lost another job when the childcare center where she worked shut down. The kids missed school after oversleeping. Rain leaked through the roof. She spent nearly half the money left in her bank account on chicken legs to make sure her children ate.

Na’Kaya retreats to her room under blue twinkle lights. She wants to become a doctor or an entrepreneur. She says she likes schoolwork. It’s just hard to focus when worry crowds her mind.

“I thought Atlanta was a good place for everyone,” she said quietly. “But it pretty much don’t seem like that.”

The family’s lease ends in March. They don’t know where they’ll go next.

For families like the Godfreys, the crisis isn’t just about rent. It’s about safety, stability and the harsh toll of constantly starting over.