The Wall You Didn’t See Coming: NIMBY, Misconceptions, and the Real Faces of Affordable Housing in Central PA

Behind the Front Door — Article 2

Introduction: Identity, Perception, and the First Wall

When I walk into a community meeting about affordable housing, I’m usually met with more curiosity and skepticism than welcome. Being young, white, and just a little flashy, people wonder why I’m there. Leading a housing nonprofit in Harrisburg, I hear assumptions before I even introduce myself. I get asked whether I’m really in charge, whether I even live here, or who put me up to working “in their neighborhood.” Some worry I’m going to “bring a gang.” Others hint I’m not local enough. The irony is, I grew up here.

I went to high school here. I have lived here for most of my adult life. People in the business community often know who I am and respect why I have a seat at the table. The neighbor who goes about their normal routine likely has no idea who I am. To them, I am just the person who shows up and says I am changing the status quo in their backyard.

Public resistance is not just about projects or policy. Sometimes, it is aimed straight at people who do not fit old expectations. In Harrisburg and across Central Pennsylvania, the conversation about housing is tangled up in bias, unfamiliarity, and the urge to protect what feels safe. Whether you are a young woman, the face of a new organization, or simply someone trying to help, the first wall is almost always personal before it is practical.

Being the visible leader of the Latino Connection Foundation only adds another layer. When residents hear our name, stereotypes start before the truth can catch up. The label sticks. Some are convinced we want to change the neighborhood overnight or that anything “affordable” spells trouble. Most people making those judgments have never taken five minutes to look up who actually leads the work or to see that the person in charge is just a basic white girl from Harrisburg, hoping to do something good.

This is what NIMBY looks like in practice. Doubt, labels, and defensiveness often appear before any facts are presented.

Defining NIMBY in Central PA

NIMBY stands for “Not in My Back Yard.” In Harrisburg, just like anywhere else, it is less about the actual housing and more about what people fear could come with it. Many residents will say their worries are about property values, safety, noise, or increased traffic. But, underneath it all, the issue is about comfort and control. Change makes people nervous, and new neighbors become targets for all the anxieties that have built up in a community.

I know I am the disruptor. I put it right in my LinkedIn title. I am known for pushing for change, and I understand that can be uncomfortable for people. Some welcome it, but many push back because they would rather keep things the way they have always been. When I come forward proposing new ideas, I am not surprised by resistance. It comes with the territory of challenging the status quo.

The word NIMBY carries its own stigma. It brings out defensiveness and discomfort, often more than phrases like “Section Eight.” It is easy for people to push back, thinking of worst-case scenarios, rather than admit that a nurse or a teacher could be the one who needs that affordable place down the block. Much of this energy comes from misunderstanding or old stereotypes. The automatic image is that anyone moving in through an affordable housing program will bring problems, when in reality, these are often working people who simply cannot keep up with rising costs.

It is common to hear concerns wrapped in polite language, but the subtext is clear. People want to feel safe, and anything unfamiliar gets labeled unsafe. The reality is that there is a wide gap between what is feared and who is actually seeking these homes. The NIMBY reaction does not just target the “other.” Sometimes, it affects neighbors who have always been here but are suddenly struggling. When the phrase “affordable housing” lands in a public meeting, the room shifts. People brace for arguments and dig in to defend the way things have always been.

NIMBY is not always driven by malice. Sometimes, it comes from years of only seeing one side of the story. But when fear sets the conversation, it becomes all too easy to say, “not here,” and shut out ideas, investment, and people who would make the community stronger.

Who Gets Seen and Who Gets Ignored

When the conversation turns to homelessness or affordable housing, most people picture the panhandler by the intersection or someone in crisis huddled in a doorway downtown. These are the most visible signs of hardship in our city, and their presence makes for an easy “poster” when people want to argue about public safety or neighborhood change. This image leaves out most of the real stories and misses the true depth of the struggle.

Most people facing housing instability in Central Pennsylvania do not stand on the street asking for help. They are working the early morning shift at a grocery store, cleaning hospital rooms, teaching in local schools, or serving food in restaurants that people rely on. They get up, show up, pay taxes, and contribute in every way. They are not panhandlers. Most months, they keep things afloat, but one car breakdown or rent increase can undo everything.

The budgets show it. A part-time retail worker makes about $21,000 a year. With a subsidized apartment and a bus pass, after groceries and utilities, there may be $300 left at the end of the month, barely enough for a single emergency or to buy new clothes for a child. If you have to drive because the buses stop early or do not run to your job site, a used car, insurance, and gas can push you $285 into the red every month. These are not numbers you see in news stories. But they are real, and they explain why so many people live one surprise expense away from disaster.

I have talked with nurses making $75,000 and still scraping by, who end up living in outdated rentals with little hope of buying a place of their own. I see families who lost housing because a landlord doubled the rent for renovations, a cost of living that simply does not match the average salary in our region. Many applicants for affordable housing get denied because they make just a thousand dollars above program limits, but are nowhere near able to sign a lease at market-rate rent, which in Harrisburg is about $1,160 a month for a one-bedroom apartment and $2,050 for a three-bedroom apartment.

Then there are the invisible others. Veterans, especially older ones, sometimes prefer a tent or a discreet space in a park to an apartment they do not trust. They carry decades of disappointment with public systems, and their expertise at surviving in the city is unmatched. Young people who aged out of foster care, families escaping violence, single parents who lost their job but not their drive to support their children. These stories never make the headlines, but they are everywhere.

Panhandling may catch the public eye, but it is only a slice of the housing struggle. Most people you see asking for change are facing behavioral health or substance challenges, and for many, panhandling is simply a way to survive each day. Meanwhile, those quietly struggling remain mostly invisible to lawmakers, landlords, and neighbors, even as their numbers continue to climb.

When you add it all together, the problem is not just who is visible. It is who gets ignored. Data shows that in Dauphin County, about 40 percent of households are above the federal poverty line but fall below the ALICE threshold, meaning they work but cannot afford basics like housing and health care. That includes teachers, social workers, police officers, and nurses. Our community depends on these people. If they need help, and there is nowhere to turn, who will notice before it is too late?

The reality is simple. Our assumptions blind us to the real crisis. We imagine “the homeless” as a single category. The people most at risk are often those we never see. The struggle is not always visible, but it is everywhere, woven into the very fabric of our communities.

Systems Feeding the Problem: Codes, Funding, and Policy

Safe housing starts with strong rules. In Pennsylvania, building codes set the minimum standard for safety, structural soundness, and the basics like fire prevention and habitability. Every new property and renovation must pass local inspections before someone can move in. But what many do not realize is that this is only the first step.

After codes, every renter who moves into HUD-funded or subsidized housing faces an additional move-in checklist. The HUD checklist goes well beyond basic code requirements. It covers details like locks on doors, windows, and screens, the status of smoke alarms, water pressure, kitchen appliances, bathroom exhaust fans, and even the condition of each floor and wall. For each room, notes are taken and every detail is documented, not just to pass the initial inspection, but to maintain compliance with housing quality standards for as long as someone is living there.

Even with these safeguards in place, problems still happen. Recent audits in Central Pennsylvania found that dozens of units failed HUD’s quality standards, many with urgent health or safety issues unreported or unresolved by inspectors. These failures led to improper payments and left families at risk, showing that having rules and inspections on paper does not guarantee real safety on the ground.

For new affordable housing projects, public funding brings its layer of complexity. Agencies like the Pennsylvania Housing Finance Agency require developers to reach out for public comment and collect written feedback before projects move forward. The intent is fairness, but in practice, these comment periods often attract only extremes. Those who are enthusiastic about change may be outnumbered by those who fear it, while the broad middle residents who want quality or incremental improvements rarely participate. The process rarely gives them a voice or a meaningful role in shaping outcomes.

This imbalance means the loudest voices dominate public review, while many residents who want to add value and maintain high standards never have their ideas included or concerns answered. Meanwhile, code differences, complex applications, and waiting for funding approvals can delay projects for months or even years. During each delay, housing costs keep climbing, aging buildings continue to deteriorate, and the actual needs of the neighborhood remain unmet.

Too often, it feels like a battle between two sides: those pushing for new growth and those demanding no change at all. The everyday resident, someone who wants the best for their family, their block, and their city, is left in the middle with no simple way to contribute, and no guarantee that their safety or comfort is truly at the heart of new development.

A safe and thriving housing system means moving beyond basic codes and paperwork. It means fully implementing the standards that keep people safe, making inspections honest and effective, and creating opportunities for public comment where real middle voices can be included. Only then can we ensure every step of inspection, funding, and engagement works not just for policy on paper, but for the actual people who call these communities home.

The Business and Landlord Layer

Affordable housing debates often center on residents and policymakers, but business owners and landlords play a major role in shaping what happens next. Their decisions and attitudes can move neighborhoods forward or hold them back.

Some local businesses quietly hope new apartments will help them attract staff, especially in areas where restaurants and retail stores struggle to hire. Others worry that new affordable developments will change the character of the block or bring in customers they see as risky. Transit access is a deciding factor. Many businesses pay their entry-level workers minimum wage, which in parts of Central Pennsylvania is still less than $15 an hour. Those workers often rely on bus routes to get to work, knowing that car ownership is simply out of reach for anyone making less than $30,000 a year.

Landlords are a mixed group. Small landlords might own one or two buildings and maintain close relationships with their tenants. Their rentals can be stable, affordable, and sometimes even passed down from generation to generation. Many take pride in keeping up appearances and fixing problems quickly, since their reputation is on the line with every lease.

But the landscape also includes large property companies. These bigger corporate landlords often treat tenants as numbers, postpone basic repairs until small problems become big ones, and raise rents much more aggressively, sometimes doubling them when “major improvements” are planned. For a nurse or teacher who has managed to hang on in an old rental, a surprise rent spike can mean moving out or facing mounting debt, even while holding a steady job.

Building a new development brings its own challenges. Every building, no matter how carefully planned, goes through a settling period. Walls shift, plumbing adjusts, and small flaws emerge that require attention. Ideally, the owner addresses these quickly, helping both residents and the surrounding neighborhood feel confident in the project. When fixes are ignored, it erodes trust and can even drag down the block, no matter how much the area was promised new investment.

Accountability matters. Laws and local codes should crack down on absentee and neglectful landlords, especially those who treat maintenance as an afterthought. At the same time, we need protections for small “mom and pop” property owners so they are not forced out by rising costs or complicated red tape.

The reality is that the housing ecosystem is deeply intertwined with local business and landlord actions. The decisions of those holding the keys to apartments and storefronts shape the daily lives of tenants, workers, and families across Harrisburg and Central Pennsylvania. Without balance and accountability, the cycle tilts toward instability, making it even harder for the city’s backbone to thrive and build community.

The True Cost of Living in Central PA

The cost of living isn’t just a data point. It’s the reality people feel every month in Central Pennsylvania. For the majority of families, the struggle isn’t about making poor choices; it’s about the math simply not adding up. Even for people who work hard, put on a uniform, and keep this city running, there’s often very little left after covering the basics.

To show how this plays out, here are monthly budget snapshots for three everyday workers in our region: a part-time retail worker, a teacher, and a registered nurse. These examples use real local income figures and typical expenses for housing, transportation, groceries, and basic needs.

1. Part-time Retail Worker ($21,000/year; $1,750/month)

2. Teacher ($49,800/year; $4,150/month)

3. Registered Nurse ($75,100/year; $6,259/month)

For the part-time retail worker, even with subsidized housing and a bus pass, there’s only $315 left after the bills, barely enough for a doctor’s visit, car repair, or savings of any kind. If transit isn’t an option (as it often isn’t for shift work or off-hour jobs), the gap gets brutal, with a negative balance before any emergencies.

For teachers and nurses, incomes are higher, but costs still stack up quickly. Larger rents and more expensive commutes eat at paychecks, and even “middle-class” jobs leave little room for the high cost of food, insurance, or childcare. It’s not just about the poorest struggling to keep up. It’s the steady middle, one rent hike or sudden bill away from falling behind.

This is what the crisis of the “missing middle” looks like: working people with modest incomes, doing everything right, but still squeezed on all sides. The numbers tell the story for families across Central Pennsylvania, and they show how fragile so many lives really are, even for those serving their community every day.

The Missing Middle and Housing’s Broken Ladder

The goal of affordable housing programs is simple on paper: help people catch a break, get stable, work their way up, and eventually move to the next rung. Access is determined by income limits. If you make less than 30 to 60 percent of the area’s median income, you qualify. The hope is that with stable housing, you’ll earn more over time and graduate to market-rate rent or homeownership.

But in reality, Central Pennsylvania’s housing ladder has broken rungs. If your pay goes up by only $1,000 a year, you might find yourself shut out, earning too much for affordable programs but still unable to reach the next step. Market-rate rents for the middle have climbed steeply. In Harrisburg, the average rent for a two-bedroom apartment is now close to $1,350 per month, and three-bedroom units cost around $1,700 each month. Homeownership is just as tough. The median home price is over $220,000, often requiring $15,000 or more just for the down payment.

Where does this leave the family earning $40,000 to $65,000 a year? These people are not poor enough for assistance, but cannot afford to buy. They are often stuck in aging rentals or living paycheck to paycheck. There simply are not enough options for the so-called missing middle, whether that is a nurse, a teacher, a family with multiple generations under one roof, or a young professional hoping to save for a future home.

Blight makes this problem even more visible. In older neighborhoods and small towns, countless industrial properties and abandoned homes sit empty, devaluing nearby properties and eroding community pride. Many of these buildings are still solid, with brick walls, open floor plans, and tall ceilings. They could provide starter homes or creative new rentals if given the chance.

Instead of letting blight linger or tearing down the last pieces of Harrisburg’s industrial history, Central Pennsylvania should encourage converting these spaces into practical middle housing. Imagine lofts above old factories, starter condos in refurbished warehouses, or duplexes renovated from rowhomes. With targeted incentives, these projects could welcome new residents, improve neighborhoods, and offer realistic options between luxury apartments and subsidized units.

Current zoning and financing barriers stand in the way. Many local codes restrict converting industrial buildings to residential, mandate expensive parking, or limit multifamily density. Banks and investors prefer large luxury projects rather than smaller, locally driven renovations. Without updated rules that support moderate-density and creative reuse, the missing middle will stay out of reach for too many.

Fixing this broken ladder requires new construction and smart redevelopment. It means channeling investment into overlooked spaces and transforming vacant or blighted properties into vibrant, walkable, and affordable communities. Blight should be seen as an opportunity for practical, modern housing instead of just another challenge.

To create lasting solutions, leaders, developers, and neighbors in Central Pennsylvania must focus on building, reclaiming, and reviving a full range of housing options. The future resilience of our neighborhoods depends on making the missing middle a real choice for every family.

Engagement, Forums, and the Myth of Public Input

Community engagement should be the heartbeat of new housing projects. It can create trust, bring new ideas to the table, and shape developments that match the real needs of a neighborhood. Yet, in practice, most public forums feel more like battlegrounds than brainstorming sessions. The room fills with people ready to fight, but not always those best able to offer constructive feedback.

A proper public forum is supposed to gather diverse opinions and help decision makers see the whole picture. The reality is that these meetings almost always attract two extremes: those determined to block anything new, and those who support development no matter the details. The broad middle, residents who care about quality, want to add value, and are open to thoughtful change, are largely absent from the process.

When affordable housing projects require public comment as part of their funding, like those with support from the Pennsylvania Housing Finance Agency, the requirement is intended to ensure fairness. In reality, it often creates a paper trail of hastily gathered feedback. Developers meet minimum requirements, collect signatures, and move on, regardless of whether deep engagement happened or not.

Many regular residents never learn about the meeting until after it happens, or they do not feel confident showing up, unsure their opinions will matter. Those who do try to join the conversation may find themselves drowned out by louder voices or specialized interests. This leads to plans and policies shaped by anxiety, myth, or resistance to change, rather than meaningful input from a broad community base.

Real public input often becomes a checkbox, not a genuine dialogue. The loudest voices win the debate while the people who want better housing for their families, who wish to see revitalized streets without getting priced out, and who actually live the daily realities, go unheard.

I wish more people would think creatively about what is possible. I look at some of the blighted buildings in Harrisburg and see opportunity, not just risk or cost. My Pinterest boards are filled with ideas for industrial loft spaces, warm wood floors, and sleek waterfall kitchen islands. For example, there is a building elevated on Front Street with boarded-up doors and a crumbling facade. No one asks me what could be done with a space like that. No one stops to imagine the structure reimagined as cool lofts with exposed beams, deep colors, and open layouts. Instead, people see only the problems and vote to tear it down.

If leaders truly want better outcomes, they should create opportunities for smaller group discussions, neighborhood walk-throughs, and online feedback tools. Education, transparency, and a willingness to explain what zoning and redevelopment could achieve would help build understanding and trust.

Better engagement requires teaching people how to disagree without anger. Critiques should be welcomed, not silenced or shouted down. Constructive debates let neighbors see the value in compromise and stop treating every project as a win-or-lose gambit.

When the voices of hard-working residents, small business owners, and neighborhood advocates are heard, housing decisions improve. Real engagement can turn hesitation into hope and transform the myth of public input into true community building.

Beyond the Myths: The Real Stakes

Housing debates often get stuck on assumptions and easy labels. The homeless person on the corner becomes the shorthand for everyone struggling, but that single image erases the experiences of thousands more who never show up in public view. It is easy to lump everyone into the same category and ignore the different paths that led them to risk and instability.

The numbers tell a sharper story. In the most recent Housing Inventory Count for Dauphin County, there were around 339 emergency shelter, transitional housing, and safe haven beds, and 242 permanent supportive housing beds. Yet waitlists remain long, and hundreds of people cycle through shelters or temporary accommodations every year. As of January 2025, the Point-in-Time count captured a rise in homelessness for both sheltered and unsheltered residents while local service providers reported more than 700 households waiting for help at any given time.

Beyond the shelter system, the local housing market is severely tilted toward rentals. In Harrisburg, only 34.6 percent of homes are owner-occupied, well below both the state and national averages. The remaining 65.4 percent of homes are rental units, but not all of these are available for long-term residents. An increasing share of listings are used for short-term rentals like Airbnb and VRBO. As of late 2024, Harrisburg counted at least 285 active Airbnb listings, making a significant dent in the inventory of stable, year-round rental homes. These short-term units generate average annual host income of nearly $24,000, drawing investment away from homes that could otherwise help local families and essential workers build a future in the city.

Why does this matter? When more units are shifted to the vacation market instead of long-term use, fewer options remain for families, young professionals, and seniors who want to put down roots. The housing squeeze pushes up rents, squeezes working people, and keeps the myth alive that only the poorest or most visibly struggling are affected.

Data from Dauphin County shows about 40 percent of households are above the federal poverty line but below the threshold needed to afford essentials like housing and health care. These are teachers, nurses, police officers, and social workers. Their struggles rarely make the news, but they are critical to the region’s well-being and stability.

The real stakes are not just about buildings or balance sheets. They are about children moving between schools with each eviction, families doubling up in cramped apartments, young people giving up hope for a place of their own, and workers losing time, money, and energy trying to keep up.

To build stronger communities, we must stop flattening complex lives into single headlines. Solutions start with honest stories and accurate numbers: knowing who needs help, seeing where homes are truly available, and acting so that every neighbor gets a fair shot at stability.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Real solutions start by acknowledging the entire housing spectrum. This means seeing beyond quick fixes and recognizing the ripple effects of every policy change, zoning rule, and investment decision. Central Pennsylvania needs a new approach, one that goes deeper than luxury apartments or deeply subsidized units.

Zoning reform is a first step. Cities should allow gentle density, making it possible to add duplexes, fourplexes, and walk-up apartments in existing neighborhoods. With clear, simple rules, local developers could turn blighted or vacant properties into modern homes for the missing middle. Every time an abandoned factory or warehouse is reimagined as affordable lofts or condos, the city gains a new resource and preserves its heritage.

Funding plays a central and often frustrating role in making good projects happen. Many programs rely on public grants and reimbursements with heavy restrictions. The process can take weeks, months, or sometimes even years. Even when funds are committed, actually seeing the money arrive and the project close is painfully slow. I am carrying bills from 2023 for a project that has been fully awarded its grant, but the funds have never all come together. Every delay means the ledger grows longer and trust in the system grows thinner.

How much longer can local organizations sustain these efforts when every grant asks for endless documentation and carries reimbursements that drag on for months or more? It is a huge hurdle. So many promising developments stall out before the first shovel hits the ground, simply because the cash flow cannot match the actual need in the community.

Smarter capital is equally important. Public and private investments should encourage small-scale development, support creative infill, and protect existing affordable rentals from being converted to short-term vacation listings. Targeted grants, tax incentives, and streamlined approval processes would shift the balance, making it easier for local builders, not just big corporations, to invest in spaces where families want to live.

Community engagement must move beyond paperwork. Rather than relying on rushed forums or disconnected online surveys, cities should host regular listening sessions and seek feedback from the full range of residents. Education about housing programs, zoning, and development could empower neighbors to guide new projects with genuine knowledge, not just emotion or rumor.

Business owners, nonprofit leaders, and residents should be invited to shape the housing mix, ensuring stores are staffed, schools are supported, and neighborhoods remain diverse and vibrant. Innovative partnerships can create new paths for homeownership among those who feel left out, while good landlord programs and renter protections can help keep affordable homes safe and stable.

Every step forward should be measured by one simple question: Who gets left out if we do not act? Leaders must ask if a new policy helps teachers, nurses, cashiers, and police officers keep a home in the city, or if it shuts them out in favor of short-term profit.

Where we go from here depends on the choices we make today. By connecting policy, investment, and creativity, Central Pennsylvania can rebuild its housing ladder and help every neighbor climb it, not just those at the top or those at the very bottom.

Conclusion & Launchpad for Reader Action

Central Pennsylvania’s housing debate isn’t simply a question of “yes” or “no” to new development. It’s a constant tug of war between rules, resources, stories, and real needs. As long as broken systems and outdated assumptions continue to dictate what gets built and for whom, communities will stay divided and neighbors will be forced to fight for every inch of stability.

This article has explored what happens behind the front door and beneath the headlines. We have looked past the stereotypes, dug into the budgets, and weighed the true impact of policy, funding, and engagement. From part-time retail workers to teachers and nurses, from business owners to landlords, and from visible panhandlers to the invisible “missing middle,” these are the people holding neighborhoods together and the ones most threatened by a system that does not truly see them.

The questions that remain are simple but urgent:

• Who benefits from the way things have always been?
• Who gets left out, priced out, or shut out of decisions?
• What stories go untold because no one bothered to ask?
• How long can we maintain a housing system that takes years to fund projects, months to reimburse bills, and weeks just to gather real public input?

If you are a neighbor, business owner, elected official, or simply someone who cares, your voice is needed. Share your story. Speak up about the buildings you want to see saved, the streets that need attention, and the new developments you imagine in your dreams and your Pinterest boards. Help build a real dialogue, not just online, but face-to-face, in the spaces where change is possible.

The future of our cities and towns depends on making these conversations honest, data-driven, and open to new ideas. Together, we can break the myths, fix the broken ladder, and build places where every family, every worker, and every neighbor can thrive.

What part will you play?