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Sen. Gillibrand, New Yorkers Counting on Affordable Housing Need Your Support
We need Sen. Gillibrand to come meet with us, listen to our stories, and then take them back to the negotiating table in Washington.
Oct 07, 2025
The cost to keep a roof over our heads is the highest recurring expense for every family. Yet, the primary source of support for people who need help with housing is on the chopping block in Congress right now.
When Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-N.Y.) launched her presidential campaign, she attended our Follow Black Women town hall with 100 Black women. At the time, the rent was already too damn high, and homeownership was already out of reach. Fast-forward five years and rent is up nearly 20% overall, with some boroughs in the city seeing twice that increase. It has been over five years since we last heard from her. But given what’s happening in the federal government right now, it’s urgent that she come home and hear from us right away.
Community Voices Heard (CVH) member Fabiola is a mother of two who has lived in Housing and Urban Development-funded housing in Newburgh, New York for more than 20 years. She has dealt with health issues that are exacerbated by black mold, poor ventilation, and years of disrepair. She stays because there is literally nowhere else she can afford in Newburgh. She is not alone.
In 2023, the New York State comptroller reported that 2.9 million New York households were cost burdened, spending 30% or more of their income on housing costs. The NYC comptroller found in January 2024 that over half of all renter households—52.1%—were rent burdened.
We need each elected official at every level—DC, Albany, and City Hall—to get the message and prioritize housing policy that centers affordability, dignity, and opportunity for all Americans.
CVH member Dolores has lived in Wagner Houses in East Harlem since 2000. Before that, she was illegally evicted from her apartment in Washington Heights with her 6-year-old, and ended up homeless for nearly four years. NYC Housing Authority Section 9 has provided her and her son safe housing for 25 years. That's now under threat. She is not alone.
The number of New Yorkers aged 55 and older in the city's shelter system increased by approximately 250% between 2004 and 2017. As of 2024, more than 520,000 New Yorkers are on a wait list for affordable senior housing. Across the country, the national population of people over 65 experiencing homelessness is projected to triple by 2030. Regardless of who we voted for in 2024, I’m sure none of us voted for our seniors to spend their golden years on the streets.
Gillibrand is the ranking member of the Appropriations Subcommittee on Transportation, Housing, and Urban Development, and Related Agencies. She knows better than anyone that Republican congressional leaders have been working nonstop to unleash hell on working families. First they passed a 10-year budget plan that steals our healthcare, safety net, and public dollars and gives everything we’ve got away to greedy billionaires and corporations. And now they’re coming for the roofs over our heads—forcing us into homelessness if we can’t pay more, just to lock us up when we’re left with no choice but to sleep in cars or camp on sidewalks.
This isn’t a tall tale. It’s where we are headed—unless Gillibrand proposes a different path and uses her position to turn things around. For years, the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) has helped get and keep Americans with low and fixed incomes housed. Donald Trump’s White House pushed for a 43% cut to rental assistance and housing vouchers. Mike Johnson’s (R-La.) House of Representatives passed an appropriations budget that cuts HUD’s fair housing activities by 67%. These nightmarish proposals are the starting point for negotiating a final appropriations budget. So we need Sen. Gillibrand to come meet with us, listen to our stories, and then take them back to the negotiating table in Washington.
Around 74% of Americans believe the current economic situation is making housing less affordable. And the current economic situation is hitting some of us especially hard. Black women lost 319,000 jobs in the public and private sectors between February and July, more than any other group. Yet despite being hit with the worst of it, Black women overwhelmingly want solutions for everyone. Regardless of race, gender, or zip code, we know that more affordable housing means stronger, safer, more stable communities.
We need each elected official at every level—DC, Albany, and City Hall—to get the message and prioritize housing policy that centers affordability, dignity, and opportunity for all Americans. That said, it’s long past time for Sen. Gillibrand—who ran for president on a platform revolving around a Family Bill of Rights—to step it up.
If she doesn’t fight for us today, it won’t matter if she comes calling to ask for a donation, an endorsement, or a vote tomorrow, because we will have lost our homes.
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Landlord Doublespeak and the Rise of the 'Housing Provider'
What drives the preference of landlords to call themselves “housing providers” is a desire to euphemize the landlord-tenant relationship and to obscure some of its basic and most important features.
Jul 30, 2025
Landlords want to be called “housing providers.” Industry organizations in California, Washington, Rhode Island, and elsewhere are proudly claiming the label. Equal to this craving to be called “housing providers,” it seems, is the wish among landlords to no longer be called landlords. The term is antiquated, they say, and has a negative stigma that doesn’t reflect reality. The industry is not particularly secretive about these desires or the reasons behind them, which have to do with image and narrative.
The dictionary definition of landlord is precise enough, however, and, in fact, couldn’t be plainer: “The owner of property (such as land, houses, or apartments) that is leased or rented to another,” according to Merriam-Webster.com. The definition identifies the essential feature of any residential landlord—that they engage in a financial transaction to lease living space. This seems straightforward enough and noncontroversial. The motivation of the industry is thus not related to any mismatch between our common understanding of the word and its most essential attribute.
Instead, what drives the preference of landlords to call themselves “housing providers” is a type of Orwellian doublespeak intended to euphemize the landlord-tenant relationship and to obscure some of its basic and most important features. What does the phrase obscure? For one, it elides the basic extractive nature of landlording, the fact that landlords expect, in fact, rely upon the relationship to be monetarily profitable to them. This is the critical fact of landlording, that it is done in the main to make a profit.
Granted there are some instances of landlords renting to family members or others without expectations of profit, but these exceptions are merely that—exceptions. The English language routinely makes distinctions between services rendered for a fee and those provided on other bases. The difference between “housing provider” and landlord is the difference between a date and a paid escort or sex worker, it is the difference between the volunteer and the mercenary, between a financial gift and an interest-bearing loan. The English language is not unique in containing words that make clear the monetary exchange and profit that define some relationships. We use these words because the information they contain is consequential.
If the landlord industry truly wants to do something to burnish its public image, it might consider publicly rejecting or sanctioning members of its community who hiked rents in Los Angeles County by 20% in the aftermath of the fires of January 2025.
This attempt to obscure the profit motive in landlording is all the more problematic because those who would call themselves “housing providers” in one breath, will, in the next, argue against rent stabilization, tenant protections, and other regulations on the basis that these policies make their business unprofitable, or less profitable than they would prefer. This is wanting it both ways—attempting to hide the profit motive while simultaneously insisting on it.
“Housing provider” is also meant to conceal the power dynamics of the landlord-tenant relationship, one in which landlords hold the privileges associated with property ownership, the ability to define the terms of acceptable behavior and limits of property use available to tenants, and the ultimate power of eviction. Moreover, at a time when corporate landlords are extending their reach into the market, and we see the spread of price-fixing algorithms to maximize rents and profit, AI-driven tenant screening algorithms to perform background checks, and greater concentration and market power at the industry scale, the insistence on the phrase “housing provider” is an obvious attempt at happy-faced distraction.
Just as important as the attempt to disguise profit motive and landlord power is the effort to dodge whatever negative connotations attach to the term landlord. “Housing provider” is meant to avoid images of rapaciousness and greed, or to conjure images of benevolence and even charity, or to do both. The use of the phrase is, in other words, an attempt, acknowledged by the industry, to control a narrative. As such it is a political act, an effort to persuade and to establish a particular understanding of who landlords are and what they do, all in the service of influencing public debate and public policy. This is not to argue that tenants don’t also try to influence the public narrative; of course they do. It is merely to note that this phrase, “housing provider,” is a calculated bid to construct meaning in a highly contested policy area and it needs to be recognized as such. Those who choose to adopt the phrase choose to adopt the narrative.
If the landlord industry truly wants to do something to burnish its public image, it might consider publicly rejecting or sanctioning members of its community who hiked rents in Los Angeles County by 20% in the aftermath of the fires of January 2025. It might help to police property owners who evicted tenants during the pandemic in violation of federal and local laws. It might take action to address sexual harassment of low-income women by landlords, or address any of a number of discriminatory or exploitative practices that haunt the industry. Those wishing to hide behind the “housing provider” label will argue that not all landlords are bad, which is of course true. They will say only a portion of landlords engage in the practices that give landlord its stigma. But, if the only response by the industry is to stop using the word landlord, it betrays a self-serving concern that does little to improve negative public perceptions and, in fact, largely confirms them.
We don’t call Exxon an “oil provider,” nor do we call GM an “automobile provider.” We don’t even call the corner mom-and-pop store a “grocery provider.” There is no reason to accept the kind of politically motivated doublespeak behind the rise of “housing provider.”
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'A Betrayal': Colorado's Democratic Governor Vetoes Bill Targeting Algorithmic Rent-Setting
The veto, said one critic, "sends the devastating message that corporate landlords can keep using secret price-fixing algorithms to take extra rent from people who have the least."
May 30, 2025
Colorado Gov. Jared Polis, a Democrat seen as a potential 2028 presidential contender, used his veto pen on Thursday to block legislation aimed at banning rent-setting algorithms that corporate landlords have used to drive up housing costs across the country.
The bill, known as H.B. 1004, would have prohibited algorithmic software "sold or distributed with the intent that it will be used by two or more landlords in the same market or a related market to set or recommend the amount of rent, level of occupancy, or other commercial term associated with the occupancy of a residential premises."
A report issued late last year by the Biden White House estimated that algorithmic rent-setting cost U.S. renters a combined $3.8 billion in 2023. According to the Biden administration's analysis, Denver tenants have been paying an average of $1,600 more on rent each year because of rent-setting algorithms. The approximate monthly rent for a one-bedroom apartment in the city is $1,600.
Pat Garofalo, director of state and local policy at the American Economic Liberties Project, called Polis' veto "a betrayal" that makes "his priorities clear."
"Governor Polis had a simple choice: stand with working Coloradans or side with corporate landlords using secretive algorithms to allegedly price-fix rents," said Garofalo. "The governor talks a big game about affordability and abundance, but when given the chance to take real action—at no cost to taxpayers—he protected profiteers and let families keep paying a 13th month of rent. It's a betrayal of the values he claims to champion, and Colorado renters won't soon forget it."
"Governor Polis vetoed the most meaningful legislation we had to lower costs for renters."
Sam Gilman, co-founder and president of the Denver-based Community Economic Defense Project, said that the governor's veto "sends the devastating message that corporate landlords can keep using secret price-fixing algorithms to take extra rent from people who have the least."
"At a time when costs keep rising for working people and Republicans in Washington are attacking the social safety net," Gilman added, "Governor Polis vetoed the most meaningful legislation we had to lower costs for renters."
In a letter explaining his veto, Polis voiced agreement with the bill's supporters that "collusion between landlords for purposes of artificially constraining rental supply and increasing costs on renters is wrong." But he warned the bill could have the unintended effect of banning software that helps "efficiently manage residential real estate."
The governor's reasoning did not assuage critics.
"It stood up to corporate power," Gilman said of the legislation. "It promised to bring apartments back online. And it took on economic abuse that steals $1,600 a year from renters."
State Rep. Steven Woodrow (D-2) said it is "unfortunate that someone who claims to care so deeply about saving people money has chosen the interests of large corporate landlords over those of hard-working Coloradans."
State and local legislative efforts to rein in algorithmic rent-setting have gained steam in recent years following an explosive ProPublica story in 2022 detailing RealPage's sale of "software that uses data analytics to suggest daily prices for open units."
"RealPage discourages bargaining with renters and has even recommended that landlords in some cases accept a lower occupancy rate in order to raise rents and make more money," the investigative outlet reported. "One of the algorithm's developers told ProPublica that leasing agents had 'too much empathy' compared to computer-generated pricing. Apartment managers can reject the software's suggestions, but as many as 90% are adopted, according to former RealPage employees."
The Denver Post reported Thursday that the vetoed bill "essentially targeted RealPage," which lobbied aggressively against a similar measure that died in the Colorado Legislature last year.
Polis also used his veto authority on Thursday to tank legislation that would have "limited how much ambulance services can charge for transporting patients and required health insurance companies to cover the cost, minus deductibles or copays," The Colorado Sun reported.
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