You cannot understand the transaction until you've lived it but let me try to explain: subsidized housing is easy on the checkbook but takes a big bite out of your pride. I am willing to give up dignity for happiness, ready to sacrifice my ego to create a partnership of love and caring. But I resent paying what can feel like a piece of my soul to rent a crummy apartment that was designed, built and maintained on the cheap by people who largely don't care.
Subsidized housing is the Hav a Heart trap for humans. First you hand over bank statements, have your income checked by IRS, bring your Social Security card and photo ID, and spend an hour signing a tall stack of forms that equate to "don't eat lead paint" and "don't set the building on fire." You think you're getting everything you need: a sturdy box, food, your own space. Later you realize it's a metal cage and the out-of-date tuna doesn't smell quite right. But by that time you're stuck living what can be a nightmare in theoretically normal housing.
From the outside my life probably seems fine. The victim blaming voice in my head even suggests that it's partly my fault for making this look too easy. My options are slim, being unable to work and living on $735/mo disability. Without my disability I could work, without my disability I could drive, without my disability I wouldn't need quick access to Seattle's medical centers. But with my disability I am poor and practically invisible.
I feel affinity for this quote about raccoons. "Their willingness to persist on our leftovers while living in marginal habitats makes them very common."
Fun fact: while I've been writing this two Very Loud Women have been hollering at a third woman in the parking lot outside, at 1:30am. Third woman took a building resident's parking spot. The building resident parked their van behind her. And the two others are trying to Very Loudly direct her out of the spot. Third woman is a poor driver and terrible at geometry, however, so this has carried on for at least 15min and she's no closer to being free. I wish I had a hose to turn on them.