I was in my early 20s living in NYC – a lovely little neighborhood in northern Manhattan called Harlem. My first place was a basement room with no windows in a beautiful 3 level brownstone right across morningside park from my alma mater, Columbia University. The rent was $500/mos including utilities. At first my space wasn’t much – a large partially finised and partially finished basement in a great area. My mom and I love decorating and stoop sales, however, so we took a long weekend and turned that place into a GEM. With the help of a friend with a car we laid down a neutral carpet remnant, painted, and decorated the space.
The space was so large that I put up some folding Japanese folding screens (stoop sale: $10/each!) and had a separate sleeping and living room area. The previous tenant had left behind his couch and bed so all I needed to do was bring my dorm TV and a clothing rack. It was also deliciously cool during hot NYC summers at a time when no one I knew had A/C or could afford it. I shared the kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and an upstairs living room and dining room with two housemates. My mom and I made the place look so nice that 3 months into my tenure, the girls who ran the place decided to raise my portion of the rent! What jerks. After much negotiation, we agreed on $533/month.
In hindsight, that first move out of college to live with house mates and take a cheap basement room was my first step towards freedom. That said, I have to be honest – I didn’t make that move because I had a crystal ball into my financial future OR because I was trying to save money. I moved there because no one else would take me. I graduated from an Ivy League school with good grades and my chosen roommate and I got turned away from every apartment we applied for. The final straw was an apartment we applied to on 165th street (an undesirable area at the time) – even though I’d witnessed drugs being sold from the building and also was warned by police raiding the bldg NOT to move there…we were desperate for a place to live and the apartment was beautiful, $700/mos each and 2 blocks from the subway. We applied and got it…until we showed up to sign the lease. The building owner saw two young black women and said we could no longer have the apartment. The landlord said something about trying to “change the building.” We couldn’t even get an apartment in a drug bldg! I can laugh at it now, but at the time it was pretty devastating. It feels like a personal rejection when people repeatedly tell you they don’t want you to live in their property. It wasn’t personal, though – they just saw two young black women with no rental history and felt we weren’t a good bet – wrong!
Racism and ageism were alive and well, but in a way, it was a blessing in disguise as it forced me to think outside the box and (after many more rejections) I finally found my basement oasis. Sometimes a set back turns into a set up – living in the furnished basement unit saved me thousands in furniture, at least $250/mos in rent and utilities, plus it was a 5-10 minute walk to campus so I could still use the computer lab in the student center for free. It was also walking distance from one of my best friends and 30 mins closer to work than the trap house.
Lastly and most importantly, getting a furnished place for $500-$530/mos with utilities included rather than $700+ utilities, furnishings, etc allowed me to comfortably save hundreds of dollars each month. I didn’t know what I was saving for, I just dutifully put aside all that I could after paying rent and student loans. I knew that one day soon I wanted my own place and perhaps a car, but didn’t have many goals beyond that.
Looking back on this time, what felt like set backs at the time – not being able to qualify for an apartment and being rejected every time I tried to move outside of Harlem, actually turned out to be God’s set ups for something special. I was able to save money and live in an area I loved (I wasn’t very welcome in most other areas) – I looked around and saw untapped beauty. I built a community and I SAVED. Then a couple of years later, the opportunity came for me to buy my piece of Harlem and I took it. At that point I’d spent years combing every piece of my chosen/forced neighborhood, so I knew and felt a good thing when I saw it…my senses were fine tuned as was my understanding of the local economy. This allowed me to make a great investment. I (trembling all the way) put all of my savings into buying a huge 2 bedroom in a doorman bldg. with parking and a courtyard across from a lovely park and a couple of blocks from multiple major subway lines. Many, if not most, considered Harlem little better than a slum at that point, but I knew better because I lived there. Always bet on black – I bet on Harlem and it made me a millionaire 😉
Freelennial 