I grew up riding my bike with friends through Chavis Heights in Southeast Raleigh. We played between stoops and felt the love of the block. But the cues were different: trash in the grass, broken blinds, busted windows, rattling window units, paint the color of a cloudy day.
As a kid, I knew something was off, even if I couldn’t name it. Years later at North Carolina Central, walking through McDougald Terrace, the same cues greeted me. Minimal fixes. Barely habitable in places. The people felt warm; the buildings felt tired. That’s when it clicked: the problem wasn’t the community. It was the message the buildings were sending about what we deserve.
When most people hear “affordable housing,” the image that comes to mind is bare-bones: beige walls, low-cost finishes, lifeless hallways. Just enough to pass inspection.
But affordable doesn’t mean cheap. And it shouldn’t look cheap.
The way we design housi…
