The San Diego Housing Commission is preparing to make changes to a federally funded rental assistance program that could see some low-income households facing rent increases.
The changes, officials say, are necessitated by years of skyrocketing rents and stagnant funding from Congress. Unexpected funding cuts pushed through by the Trump administration have exacerbated the problem.
The Housing Commission is expected to receive roughly $274 million this fiscal year to distribute "housing choice vouchers" on behalf of the city of San Diego. The voucher program, which is funded by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) and is also known by its legacy name "Section 8," is the nation's largest affordable housing program.
Voucher recipients can choose where to live and pay about 30% of their income toward rent. The voucher covers the difference between that amount and what the government determines is "fair market rent."
The Biden administration sought to make vouchers an entitlement program, similar to Medicare, where anyone who qualifies for the program receives the benefit. But it never had the votes in Congress to overcome Republican opposition to the program's expansion.
High inflation in the housing market has forced the Housing Commission to increase its average rental subsidy by 80% since 2020, officials say. The agency's president and CEO, Lisa Jones, recently told the San Diego City Council that federal funding has not kept pace, meaning vouchers are reaching fewer and fewer people.
"When our lawmakers do not fully fund our voucher program, that means that our voucher programs across the country are shrinking," Jones told the council at a meeting on Oct. 21. "They are finding a way to shrink these programs. They're just doing it through cuts. And as costs go up and cuts increase, the number of people you can serve with the 'same amount of money' continues to shrink."
Simone Le Blanc was once solidly in the middle class, working a good union job at AT&T for nearly 20 years. But the job required repetitive motions in her hands.
"They just started swelling really, really bad," Le Blanc told KPBS. "And no matter what I did — ice, I went to acupuncture, they were sending me to all these places — nothing worked."
Doctors eventually diagnosed Le Blanc with De Quervain's tenosynovitis. She underwent five surgeries that attempted to relieve the pain, ultimately leaving her with nerve damage. By 2008 she could no longer work and became disabled. She lost her home the following year, and in 2012 her husband died suddenly from a brain hemorrhage.
A disabled single mother of two, Le Blanc knew she needed help. So she applied for a housing voucher through San Diego County. She was placed on a waitlist, and was told the average wait time was around seven years. But 13 years later, she's still waiting.
"Every year I call them and say, 'Hey, do you guys prioritize people who are on disability, low income, people who have kids who are disabled?" said Le Blanc, whose son suffers from lupus, epilepsy and other chronic health issues. "I thought I was going to be moved up a little bit."
The Housing Commission's board of commissioners on Friday is scheduled to hold a workshop on the proposed changes to the voucher program. A PowerPoint presentation states the program is facing a budget gap of $26.6 million in the current fiscal year.
The agency has sought to cut administrative costs by keeping positions vacant and withholding performance incentives and cost-of-living raises for high-level staff. Additional layoffs may still be necessary. The commission is also exhausting its voucher program reserves.
But funding cuts to HUD have put some voucher recipients under further strain. The Trump administration announced earlier this year it would be ending a COVID-era "emergency housing voucher" program five years early, with funding running out next year. The Housing Commission is now scrambling to transition emergency voucher recipients, most of whom are elderly, disabled or both, into other housing assistance programs.
Closing the program's deficit would require taking vouchers away from roughly 1,700 households — or about 6,000 people. Instead, the commission is aiming to reduce subsidies across the entire program and require most voucher recipients to pay more of their income towards rent.
The changes would primarily impact households with able-bodied adults, who would have to pay up to 40% of their household income on rent. Seniors and people with disabilities would face a more modest increase, going from 28.5% of their income to 32%.
Stephen Russell, president and CEO of the nonprofit San Diego Housing Federation, said the state of affordable housing in San Diego is the worst it's ever been in the past decade.
"We are having emergency meetings within our sector on a weekly basis with our resident service providers to talk about what is happening with food, with medical care, with rent, with any other supports, with child care," Russell said. "We are seeing, one by one, the supports that families rely on to thrive are being taken away."
Russell said he believes the Housing Commission's handling of the voucher program deficit is correct, and that asking work-capable voucher recipients to pay more is preferable to kicking anyone off the program.
"To throw some people out of their homes so that others can stay is not a morally acceptable approach," Russell said. "This is painful. But I do believe that given the circumstances, the cards we've been dealt as a region, that this is going to be the most practical and ethical way to … continue to support these families and keep folks from becoming homeless."
The Housing Commission is planning a long noticing period so voucher recipients can prepare for the increased payments, which are planned for late 2026 or early 2027. It is also planning to offer relief to households experiencing exceptional hardship, and services like job training and education to connect struggling voucher holders with higher paying jobs.
Simone Le Blanc remains her son's caretaker, leaving little time for a conventional job. She tried driving for Uber and Lyft, but couldn't bear the pain in her hands triggered by sitting behind the wheel for hours at a time.
She recalls reading a story about a woman in Chicago who was on a housing voucher waitlist for 29 years, and wonders if she'll face a similar fate.
"Twenty-nine years from now, who knows, I might not even be here," Le Blanc said. "But you just wait. What else can you do?"
