It was the ides of March. It didn’t feel like a dark day, but it was. I was sitting at my dining room table wrapping up a meeting with a friend when the intercom buzzer rang and disturbed my peace. The response to “Who is it?” was “HPD.” No good news comes from having Housing, Preservation & Development (HPD) ring the doorbell of an occupied townhouse with no renovations underway and a CofO that was certified more than 10 years ago.
I should have prayed before I opened the door, but I didn’t. Fortunately, my parents still pray for me every day and I was covered and calm.
I didn’t press the buzzer to remotely provide entry. Instead, I exited my apartment to open the front door and took my position to fill the doorframe. I had no intention of having an HPD inspector enter my house to open myself up to a day of random violations and thousands of dollars in fines.
“Yes?” I responded to the three burly white men with badges hanging around their necks standing on my landing.
One asked, “Are you the owner?”
“Yes,” I replied. I noted that he never asked me who I was or mentioned my name. While I’m sure he knew my name because I file my registration form with HPD every year, I could have been anyone. Perhaps, he saw a picture of me somewhere. It could be that I was researched. I’ve been quoted in the media on the issue of short-term rentals. If this were the case, he would know that I believe the law to be vague, unjust and dishonest. And yet, I comply. However, this HPD inspector had another opinion.
“We have a complaint that you’re using Airbnb,” continued the only one of the three to ever speak. I didn’t believe him, but I listened. Then like a little kid who was sharing a secret he shouldn’t, he proceeded to tell me that using Airbnb is often illegal and people don’t realize it. My exterior remained composed while I could almost feel the blood speeding through my veins as my adrenaline began to kick in.
I had to remind myself that these folks are enforcement. There was no need for me to be salty with them. They don’t make the rules. Policy is not their game. The legislators have done a bad job with this. The writer of this law testified that it shouldn’t be applied to individual owners who reside in their homes and yet HPD was standing at my door. HPD inspectors only enforce the rules and, apparently, they take their jobs very seriously.
“Just listen, breathe and say a little as possible,” I told myself.
He asked if I had people staying with me. I told him that I had guests. He wanted to speak to them. I let him know that they had left for the day. That didn’t stop him from wanting to get inside my house. He offered to show me his id. I think I was in a momentary fog. I remember looking at the credit card size piece of plastic, but don’t remember seeing his name. The edges were worn and white shown through were brownish color had been rubbed off. I did have a thought that anyone could have printed that id. I’ve never seen an HPD id before. How would I know what is real and what is fake? Seeing that thing provided no sense of security for me. I wondered why in the world they decided to send three white men who looked like they never missed a meal come to my door. My answers were not positive. They know I’m a single woman and the sole owner of this house.
“So, you’re not going to let us in,” he quipped while not even looking my way.
“No. I try not to let anyone in my house,” I replied.
“Interesting. Well, you let those strangers in,” he shot back. Apparently, in his mind, ‘guests’ equals ‘strangers.’ I never indicated that I had strangers in my home.
Perhaps, he thought that was a statement that would make me change my mind and grant him entry. Wrong. He must have been seeing a mirage that looked like a tattoo of ‘Boo Boo The Fool’ across my forehead. While I didn’t see a pen or a pad, I knew he had the power to write a summons for whatever he wanted real or imagined.
Whoever those people were who I let visit my house, I can assure you that they did not have the ability or the interest in writing violations, summons and disrupting the economic stability of my household. I remained polite, appeared unfazed and continued to listen. It was clear the HPD inspectors meant me no good.
Before he completely left my steps, the lead investigator turned around and stated, “We have other ways of getting in your house.”
What the what? It was official. I was being harassed. This was a blatant attempt to intimidate me. And even before Maxine Waters said it, I knew it to be true. “I am a strong black woman. I cannot be intimidated.” I know that the law requires HPD to get a warrant to enter my house. Until then, I have a right to privacy and I do not have to comply with a request for entry. I know the police are held to a high standard of conduct and we can even find the NYPD patrol guide online and report attempts of harassment and intimidation to the Civilian Complaint Review Board. I have no clue what guides HPD or where to log a complaint.
When I closed the door and reentered my apartment, I felt as if were in one of the lower layers of dream in the movie Inception. By the time I walked the 15 feet into my living room, I didn’t need a spinning top or any other totem to let me know that I was living this. The adrenaline had burned off and my anger at this situation was growing. I had to remember to put on my full armor.
Wrote a song about it, like to hear it? Here it go:
At first I was afraid.
I was petrified.
Wond’ring if this guy could really get inside
But then I called on my faith that reminds that I’m strong,
Yes! I’m headstrong, and I have more than this new song.
Ok, enough of the jokes.
This is a serious matter. Yes! This is a serious matter.
I actually like HPD and have had many friends who I love and respect that worked there. I know there are good people and they continue to implement programs that positively impact my community and the city. I really don’t want to be in a fight with HPD, the city or the state, but the devil showed up on my doorstep and I feel I don’t have any recourse other than to share my story openly with everyone as it occurs.
Let me be clear. I don’t think that overzealous inspector is the devil. His behavior does need to change and no one else should ever have to experience this. I do think he is a part of a system and embroiled in an issue on which the city and the state are on the wrong side. They’re effectively trying to take me out along with other homeowners like me.
As this began in the middle of the Lenten Season, I feel even more comfortable sharing the faith that directs my actions. I do believe:
John 10:10 (NIV) The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
On the issue of short-term rentals, the city and state have sided with big business, extra normal profits and an industry that historically discriminates. Be clear, this fight is hiding behind the mask of a union who represents workers, but ultimately is shielding the deep pockets from the true fight.
As a part of my journey in Harlem, you will read my take on this issue along with my experience and find out how I succeed in working together with the city and state along with this union to make rules that benefit the people who our legislators are to represent, while adequately supporting business and the growth of tourism in NYC.
For the record, I’m claiming success in advance. I’m praising Him for it. For I know:
Isaiah 54:17 (NKJV)
No weapon formed against you shall prosper,
And every tongue which rises against you in judgment
You shall condemn.
This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord,
And their righteousness is from Me,”
Says the Lord.
I say this for I know this house is a blessing from the Lord and anyone who stands against it stands against God’s grace to me. Don’t get it twisted. While it is a blessing, it is not manna from heaven. I have excellent credit, paid a significant down payment and pay my mortgage on time every month. It is favor, never the less and for that I am forever grateful.
Here on this page, I’m also going to give you a couple of action steps you can take each time I write if you’d like to support the cause for me and others like me.
Until next time,
Peace & blessings,
Joy Machelle
Suggested actions to take for today:
- #Like Coalition of HomeOwners NYC on Facebook – This growing group will be addressing home sharing and other issues faced by individual homeowners.
- Support my business and Buy a t-shirt for yourself or a friend. It is an ode to Maxine Waters. It appears that I’m going to need to hire an attorney. Having the funds to pay an attorney was not in the budget and I think the t-shirts are cute.
An agent from a unknown call center reached out to me. The name was so random and I never heard of the company before and don’t even remember the letters of the name. Don’t think my memory is terrible, the company letters don’t make a word. I figure I would have remembered a word even if the word was odd or hard to pronounce, but this is just a set of letters. It sounded like some initials, something like ITS or ITCS or something else even more random.
A few days ago…or maybe last week, I created a gofundme page to help me to raise funds to fill in the gap and to pay the fines from the city and to help me keep up the fight. I really didn’t start to market it yet. My excuse has been sad and pitiful. It really doesn’t matter what it is. The marketing just hasn’t gotten done. The truth about crowd funding is you have to have a crowd. It is not “if you build it, they will come.” They won’t come unless they find it. So, I’m posting it here.
Tomorrow is the day I go to the OATH office and take a seat opposite the cities representatives. The OATH office is the Office of Administrative Trials and Hearing. On Thursdays, it is buildings day. The building looks like any other corporate office in the Federal Reserve of NY area. Too bad that it is not. In the am, I need to go to prove that my belief that I’m doing the right thing. I haven’t been dreading this, until now. I’ve been hoping that it would somehow go away. I’ve been trying to do whatever I can to make that happen. Clearly, the timing for this is off. I still think it’s going to work out for my good.
reat time in fellowship with some folks from my dance ministry class. We spent months together refining our technique, learning choreography, rehearsing and rehearsing some more along with our time in The Word. During all of that time, we spent almost no time just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.
This is the first post of this blog. I’m going to keep it short. Much more to come. I’m excited to start writing in this format again. At this domain, we will explore Harlem and beyond together. I’m looking for a good ride. I see a great future.