On an otherwise uneventful day in July 2021, I got an email that ended up changing my life.
Two months earlier, I’d applied on New York City’s housing lottery website for a chance to live in a newly built apartment complex in a neighborhood I could never afford under normal circumstances.
I didn’t think much about it because the system itself is kind of mindless: You fill out your income details one time when first setting up your profile and then simply hit “Apply” whenever a building in your income bracket comes up.
By that point, I’d applied to dozens of buildings and none had ever panned out. My randomly assigned log numbers — which determine the order in which leasing agents contact applicants — were always in the five- or six-digit range. In other words, hopeless.
After all, winning the NYC affordable-housing lottery is a numbers game. In 2024, a Department of Housing Preservation and Development representative told BI that the department receives about 3.5 million applications a year and that, on average, there are 450 applications per rental unit.
I hadn’t even bothered to check my log number for this building before I was called for it — it turned out I was number 41. I waved off my then-boyfriend’s suggestion that we go to the beach and instead spent the Fourth of July collecting all the documents required to verify my income.
A week later, I was contacted to view an apartment. Three months after that, I was moving into the high-rise building of my dreams.
Through the program, I snagged a one-bedroom apartment in a coveted neighborhood for $2,295
At the time, I was living in a large rent-stabilized one-bedroom in Brooklyn for $1,250 — it was a steal, and I figured I would stay there forever.
So the lottery apartment’s rent ($2,295), though supposedly “affordable” for those of us making 130% of the Area Median Income (or “AMI”), made me queasy. Technically, I could afford it, but it meant slashing my disposable income and ability to save.
But when I looked at the details, it was clearly the right move: This would be by far the best neighborhood and nicest apartment I’d ever lived in.
It would also be the first time in my entire life I’d ever had a washer, dryer, and dishwasher in my home, let alone access to building amenities like a pool, coworking spaces, and even an arcade.
My Brooklyn apartment, on the flip side, was in an unkempt pre-war building where the only “amenity” to speak of was a heating pipe that whistled so loudly it sounded like a plane was taking off in my bedroom.
Despite a price that’s probably eye-watering to people who live outside the city, the new 800-square-foot apartment was also a great deal for its location.
At the time I signed my lease, the median asking rent for a one-bedroom in that neighborhood was at least $1,000 more.
For 2021 Caralynn, it was perfect. Then, that boyfriend became my husband — and a permanent resident of the apartment — and shortly after, my one-person, one-dog household became three people and one dog when our daughter was born in late 2022.
The apartment still worked for us during the infant stage after we made a few minor modifications and I forced my maximalist self to adopt a minimalist perspective.
But now, with a toddler and a whole lot of toys, things are feeling decidedly less spacious.
Over the years, we’ve had to get creative with the space
Since my daughter was born, the apartment has gone through every conceivable configuration.
We’ve trialed dine-in kitchen setups versus separate dining spaces in the living area and tried creating a tiny bedroom for my daughter in my onetime office nook instead of all sharing one bedroom.
My husband and I also once carved out part of the living room as our sleeping space — a pseudo second bedroom — to give our daughter the bedroom, too.
I’ve spent countless hours researching Murphy beds. The only place we haven’t tried putting our couch is on the ceiling.
Still, giving this apartment up for a modicum more space feels foolish. When I moved, it wasn’t with the idea that this was the neighborhood where I’d raise my kids, but it’s actually one of the most family-friendly areas in the city.
We have great schools, tons of parks, access to multiple subway lines, and even a Trader Joe’s practically at our doorstep.
And while the crowded space is occasionally overstimulating for me and my late-diagnosed ADHD, the apartment is still workable.
My toddler, for one, has no interest in personal space and much prefers co-sleeping with us anyway. The wheels are constantly turning in my head about how we can best repurpose the space when she does want her own room, though.
At this time, moving out just doesn’t feel like a real option
It’s not in the cards right now to move to a two-bedroom in our building or elsewhere in our neighborhood. Because our apartment is rent-stabilized, increases with each lease renewal are capped: Our monthly rent today is just $2,550.
Comparatively, the median market rate for one-bedrooms in our area has soared to over $4,000 a month — and over $6,000 for two-bedrooms.
Sure, we could leave New York City entirely — and we’ve discussed it — but that would mean giving up all the things we’ve come to value most, like easy access to endless entertainment and culture.
So, I’m still applying to the affordable-housing lottery here. To date, I’ve submitted 188 applications.
I’ve qualified for a number of apartments, but none have panned out, either because they’re not much bigger than our current unit or because they’re in neighborhoods we don’t like as much.
I have no idea whether lightning will strike twice for us and we’ll qualify for a bigger, better unit in our neighborhood before our household income exceeds the maximum for our bracket.
For now, I’ve resigned myself to sitting with two competing feelings: immense gratitude that we’ve gotten to live relatively affordably in an incredible place for as long as we have, and stress that a time is coming where this won’t actually be tenable.
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