Who Gets to Call Woodstock Home?
When I first started canvassing, I stuck to the neighborhoods near where I live. They’re quiet, tree-lined, and honestly, walking through them feels like strolling through a park. They’re also the kinds of places I wish I could live, though there’s very little chance I’ll ever be able to afford them at today’s prices.
But this time, I stepped out of my comfort zone. I went to an affordable housing community here in Woodstock.
This wasn’t just any apartment complex—it’s income-restricted. You can’t live there unless you’re under a certain income limit. Inside, it felt like a true community: families with kids, elderly neighbors, folks living with disabilities. The real fabric of Woodstock.
I’ve lived in places that looked far worse, and honestly, this seemed like somewhere I could be proud to call home. Too many people make horrible assumptions about income-restricted housing. The truth is, communities like this are safe, welcoming, and full of hardworking neighbors who deserve respect, not stigma.
I met a woman working three jobs just to make ends meet. That’s more common than people think. Too many jobs don’t pay enough to live on, so people patch together part-time work without benefits. And of course, none of those jobs provide insurance. That leaves folks with impossible choices.
Like many folks in Woodstock, I’m caught in the gap—I make too much to qualify for help, but not enough to afford insurance at today’s prices. Back when I had a corporate job, I had decent coverage and could protect both my husband and me. But now my employer doesn’t offer insurance, and the plans on the market are too expensive to justify. That leaves me on my own—and I made the hard choice that it was more financially responsible to forego insurance than to pay for a policy that drains my budget without really protecting me.
That’s the marker of life for the working majority in Woodstock: you’re constantly forced into impossible tradeoffs. Sometimes there are no great solutions—just the least-bad option. When you make a lot of money, you can absorb higher prices and inconveniences. For everyone else, those same costs can knock you flat.
I also met a man who’d been out of work for a while. I encouraged him not to be discouraged and even offered to review his résumé. I know what it feels like to be in that position—one year I filed my taxes with eleven different W-2s and 1099s, because I was hustling every gig I could just to scrape by. That experience taught me resilience, perspective, and how to see past the stereotypes.
That kind of poverty is hard to explain to people who’ve never lived it. Not the kind where your parents can bail you out if things go wrong—but the kind where, if you slip up, you’re one bill away from homelessness. I’ve been fortunate to have family who could have helped, but I was determined to stand on my own two feet. And what I learned is this: life is already hard enough. The most Christian, the most moral thing we can do is make life a little easier for those who have less. There’s no sense in making it crueler than it already is.
The Bigger Picture
A 2022 housing study found that while Woodstock has been great at building for higher-income households, we’ve delivered almost nothing for middle- and lower-income families. Since 2015, the average rent in Woodstock has gone up nearly $600 a month. And our population has tripled while multifamily housing has only doubled.
That math doesn’t add up. It’s no wonder so many people feel like Woodstock is slipping out of reach.
And here’s the fact: affordable housing does not bring more crime. Study after study shows the opposite—safe, stable, affordable homes strengthen neighborhoods. The real threat to Woodstock isn’t affordable housing. It’s leaders who ignore working families, push luxury developments, and then act shocked when traffic, prices, and inequality spiral out of control.
Why I’m Running
As mayor, I can’t approve developments or set rents. But I can shine a light on these truths, give the mic to people who are usually ignored, and keep pressing until attainable housing for working-class is part of the conversation—not an afterthought.
If you want a Woodstock that only works for the wealthy, you already have that. If you want a Woodstock that makes room for everyone—the teachers, the seniors, the working parents, the kids trying to start out—then you need new leadership.
Because a hometown worth fighting for is a hometown that makes room for everyone.
