When the new year rings in, Maine’s community organizers, like me, are off to the races. It marks the start of months of advocacy, fueled by the hope that we can use the legislative process to make life more manageable for families across our state. By the time Spring takes hold, the legislature is winding down, and it’s around this time I am met with a familiar dilemma.
It is a season of celebration, an opportunity for advocates and organizations to take stock. We finally know which bills passed, how the state budget shook out, and are sighing in relief after weeks of long hours and worry–not knowing the outcome of all the advocacy done alongside our colleagues and community members.
While there are always things to celebrate, I can’t ignore how much farther we need to go to create a world in which everyone has what they need. Each year, as we begin discussions about who to thank, and start measuring the impact of our progress, instead of excitement, I feel left under a shadow of sorrow, grieving the leaps and bounds I wanted us to take, and begin to adjust to appreciating the baby steps. It doesn’t come easy.
The current housing crisis in Maine makes this hesitancy to celebrate even more stark. How can I send thank-you notes, and heart emojis, when I know neighbors down the road have empty oil tanks, sparsely filled fridges, and still can’t pay their rent?
I recognize that every gain in the budget, and every good policy passed, is helping someone, but it can be hard when so often I am confronted with the stacked deck so many Mainers face each day–especially in our housing crisis.
A shift in the air
Over the last decade, I have advocated for change at the State House, most of those years as a single mom, learning to use my voice for change, to shift my experience living in poverty in Maine, into the biggest driver to propel me out of it. I used my experience, not as a deficit, but as a gift. It got me here, doing this work professionally, working with others like me, to morph suffering into hope, and to use our knowledge and experience to find the answers to our problems.
For the last four years, MEJ’s Housing Leadership team, a group of eight community members with lived experience, have done just that–they have used their own housing insecurity as a catalyst to make change for everyone in Maine. Our goal: to make sure everyone has a safe, affordable, place to call home.
Through this experience, both personally and professionally, I have found empowerment, but also many moments of frustration. Many of us, myself included, feel very grateful for the impact of small changes that get us closer to our goals, but exasperated that people with low income are far from receiving a fair chance. We know Mainers need so much more to get beyond survival mode and thrive. And it can feel like the legislature is moving at a snail's pace.
This year, while we faced many of the same challenges, the season felt different. We are often focused on introducing new bills, and speaking at public hearings across committees, but this year we were particularly tuned in to the budget committee (also called Appropriations and FInancial Affairs or AFA). They hold a lot of power; deciding which bills receive funding, and voting in changes to our tax system, giving the state more (or less) revenue. Many bills on ‘the table’ this year represented essential–and urgent– needs of Mainers, like shelter funding, rent relief, legal aid, healthcare, food assistance and more.
While listening in to some of the last work sessions, where final decisions were made about our state budget, I felt a growing sense of hope that I desperately needed. In those conversations and in the budget itself, I felt proud to witness Maine moving towards a budget and system that works for everyone, while our federal government cuts holes in the safety nets so many rely on.
Maine filled many of those holes, and took the job seriously.
It felt like seeing progress in real time, a small redistribution of wealth, right here in Maine. There was a sense of urgency and humanity that gave me hope for our future.
The Win: Maine-Run Rent Relief
One of our team’s greatest accomplishments in the last few years has been the creation of a Maine-run, Maine-funded rent relief program–called the Eviction Prevention Program–which was created as a pilot in 2024. This year, it was finally re-funded with $11 million–dollars that directly help Mainers facing hard times. We asked for more; to stop evictions Maine needs more–but we are proud of this allocation of funds–and proud to see the other places legislators went above and beyond to fund, when things are so uncertain.
In those final moments of session at the State House, I saw a bravery that we have yearned for from legislators over the years, and it gave me hope that we are reaching a tipping point in Maine, where legislators are truly understanding the depth of the suffering and have had enough. They heard–and are responding to–the pleas for a fair system, for people to pay in their fair share, so we can put out the programs and resources needed to propel all Mainers towards their potential, programs like the EPP. And for that I felt a deep gratitude.
I know it is not perfect. We didn’t get the full funding we wanted, and we have partners whose important priorities were left out of the budget. But it felt like a shift, a beginning; progress toward putting the needs of Maine people front and center.
Bravery in the hardest times
In the midst of this legislative session, our housing leadership team members were facing some of their most challenging times. Two members were in the middle of their own evictions in March, when our advocacy efforts ramped up. They came to Augusta, shared their stories, and met with leaders to make the case for EPP—knowing full well the program wouldn’t be in place in time to benefit them. They faced court dates and a housing system that demands "perfection"—pristine credit, high income, and landlords who refuse to accept assistance—yet they stayed in the fight.
They showed up, because they believe in our system and they have seen it actually work. They know it is possible to go from kitchen table conversations, to laws that infuse justice and meaningful support into our communities–that’s exactly what EPP was and continues to be, and we’ve seen it with dental care, TANF reform, and Medicaid expansion over the years, too.
This year we also had team members who were impacted by the ICE surge, who are fierce leaders for Maine, who had to advocate from home. These leaders have fought for years for programs that help everyone in Maine, who deeply care about our shared future as Mainers. Through their own struggle, they have gotten involved in deep ways in our community and we are so much better for it.
Finding hope closer to home
While Washington pushes costs even higher, and fills our news feeds with cuts and chaos, it can be easy to disengage. It has been a difficult 12 months, especially for families who work the hardest to make ends meet.
These days, I am latching on to the hope that comes from activation. What I saw this year wasn’t groundbreaking, but it was something. Not just inside the state house, but outside too–I have never seen so many community members show up to rallies, to protests, send letters, join petitions, or ask how to take action.
There’s no more important time to double down on change right here in Maine. We can and should push back against what is happening nationally, but we can also make change right here at home.
I am proud to see Maine, pulling through, standing tall, and taking steps towards economic equity, while DC gives out massive tax breaks for the wealthy. It says so much about the place we all call home.
Of course, hearing the Eviction Prevention Program voted into the budget gave me joy. EPP is something our team has been working to keep funded and made permanent for years–but what rekindled my hope was seeing our words, our actions, having been truly soaked in by legislators who are breaking free of the status quo.
It confirmed again for me that we do have power, that we can fight back, we can make sure that if you live in Maine, you have a roof over your head, food on the table, and can go to the doctor. I never thought it would be in the midst of national turmoil that Maine found its bravery, but that is what I saw this year. And instead of contemplating the complexities of celebrating baby steps towards justice–this year, I am basking in the glimpses of hope, humanity, boldness and bravery.
