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By Matt McLaughlin

The house my grandmother bought in 1948 is still there on Spencer Ave in Somerville. Back then, a single mother with a union job at the Hostess Cupcake factory earned enough to buy a home and raise three kids, not far from Davis Square. She had an extra apartment, a garden in the yard, and all of her needs were a short walk away.

But when it came time for my wife and me to find our own place in Somerville, we could only dream of a home. We kept getting beaten out by speculators paying above market in all-cash deals. We looked at housing that should have been condemned, but even that was out of reach. The experience became so emotionally draining that I gave up on my dream. I told my wife to keep searching if she likes, but don’t tell me about it. But my community matters to me. This is my home. It’s where I was raised, and it’s where I want to raise my son.

Then, one day, she pulled out a bottle of champagne to celebrate our purchase: a one-floor condo with a view of I-93, the Encore casino, and the Everett smokestacks from our rotting back porch.

It was one of the happiest days of my life.

But this isn’t a story about houses, it’s about community. People talk about the olden days when “times were tough, but you could always count on your neighbor for a cup of sugar.” We had that. People outside mocked us as “Slummerville,” but rent was low, home ownership was possible, and your neighbors were family. My father died when I was 12, and my grandmother’s house became our safety net, catching my mother and four siblings. That house is the only reason we remained in the city. It’s also one of the reasons we are all still alive and did not go down the same path as many of our peers.

All of my siblings dedicated their lives to public service, but none can afford to live here. It’s their hometown, but not their home. They all live close by, but being forced outside of their community while still serving it is heartbreaking.

The same is true of my childhood friends; they all moved long ago. I made new friends, but they also got pushed out. Over the years, I lived in six different apartments, all in Somerville. I slept on couches. I rented four-bedroom boxes with strangers. I really should have left a long time ago for my own financial well-being, but I refuse to be forced out.

Despite these hardships, I feel fortunate. I achieved my dream. Others are not so lucky. From Medford to Montana, Americans find owning or renting homes to be the primary financial burden in their lives. The average Boston-area renter spends nearly half their income on rent. Smart Asset reports that a family of four needs $301,184 per year to live comfortably in Massachusetts, the highest cost in the nation. The cost increases to $352,000 for the Boston area.

People with good jobs and bright futures don’t even consider owning a home or having a family. As one resident told me “I’m just starting my career in Mass, and by the look of things I’m going to have to win the lottery in the next ten years if I have any hope of raising a family around here.”

Most people I know have given up on living here, regardless of how successful they’ve been. Some friends moved from place to place, never unpacking their boxes. This uncertainty led to others giving in to despair, becoming victims of crime and the opioid epidemic. I stopped counting the number of people I personally know who succumbed to addiction long ago. When I got out of the Army in 2008, Massachusetts lost more people to substance abuse than all US casualties in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan combined. The problem has only gotten worse since then. I regularly see familiar faces living on the street, begging for change, still reminiscing about the way things used to be.

That’s why one out of three Massachusetts residents considers leaving the state entirely. This loss of people is a loss of income, talent, and tax base. If that isn’t enough to concern the political establishment, the loss of representation in Congress should shock them to attention. Massachusetts has lost three House seats since 1980 due to slow population growth. Fewer voices in Congress means less federal support when we need it.

But more importantly, for those of us still here, it’s a loss of community.

Everyone is aware of the problem, but the battle over solutions has mired us in inactivity. Monied interests fight with community groups, and community groups fight with themselves. Meanwhile the government’s response is tepid. The inaction has reached a breaking point: voters are now floating a ballot question demanding rent control, something considered a non-starter decades ago.

The problem seems insurmountable, but ultimately, we made it, and we can unmake it. No single problem caused this crisis, and no single solution will get us out of it. Our elected officials need the courage to put everything on the table.

We need both market-driven solutions and tenant protections. We need to allow more housing to be built and protect the current residents from profiteers. We need to expand social housing solutions that promise affordable housing for everyone. Most of all, we need money. We need our government to make the most basic human need, shelter, a priority.

This is all possible and all within reach, not just for Somerville, but for all of Massachusetts. It’s up to the voters to decide that the problem is important enough to solve.

Matt McLaughlin is a City Councilor in Somerville and a candidate for State Senate in the Second Middlesex district.