my american housing journey

That’s my dad in front of our first home in America. We had settled in a small community 18 miles west of Phoenix called Avondale. I’m guessing the picture was taken in 1984 or ’85, when interest rates were over 18% but houses were still affordable. My parents were immigrants from Korea who worked 12 hour days at their dry cleaning business so my brother, sister and I could have a comfortable life. (People who know me would be surprised that I’m actually an immigrant too, mostly because I’m so Americanized. I moved here when I was 5.) I remember we were renters at the time. All five of us slept together, lined up like sardines, on the floor of a small rental apartment. That home was the first time I had my own bedroom and a backyard for dogs. I walked to school every day and our neighborhood had a ton of kids to play and fight with. It was a wonderful place to spend my formative childhood years. They sold that house with a mortgage still on it when I was 15 and used it as a stepping stone to our next house—a two-story, four-bedroom home on a lakeside lot in a brand new development. I was too young to know what it was exactly but I remember what it felt like. It was like I had won a trip to Disneyland. We would visit the house all the time as it was being built. The stairs, the hole for the pool, the dock to the lake. Was this really going to be our life? It was the excitement of economic and social mobility. My parents stayed in that house until I was in my 30s. Our family had lived the American Dream: work hard and save and eventually you’ll be able to buy a home and keep stepping up from there. 

Things were a little different when I bought my first house just before the economic crisis of 2008. I was 33 and had been a renter my entire adult life. And I was totally fine with it. But I kept seeing the bubble get bigger and was scared to get locked out and left behind. It felt like I was hopping on a fast-moving train with an unknown destination. I took out an adjustable rate mortgage based on stated income and a huge balloon payment after three years. I was a first-time home buyer and I was scared I would be priced out of the market so I went for it and would worry about that big payment when it came around. Then the real estate bubble burst and long story short, I no longer own that home. 

This post isn’t about what’s right or wrong with the housing market. It’s just to show what it’s been like for people at different points in time. The picture today is high interest rates, high housing prices and wages being left behind. Unlike all the generations before them, it seems like Millennials and GenZ have the least hope of being homeowners. I always try to ask anyone in those generations how they feel about someday owning a home. Many of them don’t think it’s a reality and have made peace with being renters for the long haul. That makes me sad because I know how much that first home carried our family forward in life. It gave my parents a leg up and the hope that they could give their kids a better life than they had. That’s not so much anymore. I’m GenX and many of us wonder how our kids will be able to afford a home. How can we help the next generations to thrive without limitations? We are working hard to answer that very question. I would love to hear your own housing journey if you want to share: hk@joogi.com.

Sincerely, HK (bottom right on the picture below)