I used to live at the Governor’s Terrace apartment building on East Broad Street between North Ohio Avenue and South Champion Avenue. This location sits between the sites where Columbus police shot and killed 13-year-old Tyre King in 2016 and 16-year-old Julius Tate three years later.

It is north of Broad Street, so the gentrification name of this area is known by some as the King-Lincoln District. Former Mayor Coleman insisted on calling it King-Lincoln, but many raised here or connected in some way prefer, if not demand, this historical African American enclave be known as the name it was born with – Bronzeville.

When I moved into Governor’s Terrace in 2016, I got in around $700 a month. As time passed, Bronzeville became whiter and whiter, and housing prices in Bronzeville went up and up. My lease was locked in at a reasonable yearly price increase so, even after several years, I was still around $800 a month.

The suburbs will scoff, but Governor’s Terrace (pictured above) was great in many ways. The ceilings are high, and most rooms are spacious. My one-bedroom flat was bigger than some people’s two bedrooms. I was content despite the smallest kitchen I had ever known outside of New York City. The electric plugs didn’t have grounding holes and that maintenance was slower than pouring cold molasses.

In the 1990s, my friends Bud and Malik had an apartment close to Governor’s Terrace on North Ohio Avenue, just south of Long Street. They lived across the street from their mother’s beautiful home on the same street. The rent they paid back then for this apartment was $325 total. I’ll say it again – $325 a month for two people.

This same apartment goes for $1,300 a month right now. Those aren’t the only housing prices spiking in Bronzeville. There is a large grey house on the corner of Governor’s Place and Avon alley going for $965,000. This home is guaranteed to raise surrounding property taxes and push out more families whose homes are paid off but won’t be able to afford taxes because of ridiculously inflated prices.

Over the last several years at Governor’s Terrace, I saw the place change around me. I didn’t know the rent my neighbors were paying, but I could tell it was becoming far more expensive than mine simply by the kinds of cars in the parking lot and general atmosphere of the complex. This wasn’t a pleasant thing. My neighbors got exponentially harder to relate to, for that matter. Working class Black families are leaving and their numbers dwindling.

About a year and half ago my dad called me at Governor’s Terrace. He said the owner of the property had contacted him personally. I needed to go – by Friday – it was Monday. Normally, I would have said f#%! that. Was this even legal? It didn’t matter. My dad had co-signed, and he was getting his own house, and if I didn’t go, he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his dream of owning his own home.

The landlord’s deal was this: out by Friday, no fees for wear and tear, no actual eviction, just go quickly. I had three days to pack and get out. The landlord was using his power to negatively impact my father’s credit despite us never having been late on a rent check.

The following day I ignored the problem like an ostrich. The next day I realized my dire predicament – and I am certain many others during Columbus’s so-called “Boomtown” era have faced the same daunting challenge. Everything out there was more than my entire monthly income even before paying a security deposit.

The clock was ticking, and I was under duress, but luckily a friend came through. Well, sort of. I moved into an empty home they owned. The rent was $600, but there was a catch. There was no running water and a family of racoons had taken refuge in the attic. They sounded like grown men when they fought. The water issue was eventually solved, but the experience was tiresome, messy, and odiferous to say the least.

I once advocated and worked to save Bronzeville’s Poindexter Village, the historic affordable housing space sold by the Columbus Metropolitan Housing Authority (CMHA) for “mixed income development.” It was once all public housing and now it is a ratio of public to commercial. This moved out a whole community and replaced it with newer but more expensive housing.

That bears repeating. The organization that controls public housing sold a giant and historic housing complex, and, most importantly, one with a free or sliding fee rent, so to allow the land to be used for profitable development. They have done so all over the city. Section 8 already had a multi-year waiting list in Columbus. Now the only way to be approved is if you’ve spent a considerable amount of time at a shelter or you have children in poverty.

This much is clear to me and others struggling to keep a roof over their head in this “Boomtown.” While some may believe the deep-rooted reasons behind the rising number of people on our street corners holding cardboard signs is due to one’s lack of personal responsibility, I believe it is more so about the greed and shortsightedness of landowners and landlords who believe Columbus is worthy of $1,400-a-month one-bedrooms.

The truth of this anxiety-filled matter is no one should be forced out of their home in the name of gentrification inspired by greed.