‘There Is No Place for Us’ exposes the working homeless crisis in America

Brian Goldstone’s new book reveals how America’s housing system fails working families and why many are trapped in homelessness despite holding jobs.

Illustration by Febriana Tiara

By Anna Fadiah and Hayu Andini

When we meet Celeste Walker, she is paying a weekly fee to stay in a deteriorating extended-stay motel on the outskirts of Atlanta. Her journey to this point is harrowing. Eight months earlier, the single mother of three came home from her warehouse job to find the house she rented burned to the ground—set ablaze by a former partner. With the house rendered uninhabitable and the lease terminated, she stopped paying rent. The eviction that followed left a mark on her credit score and made it nearly impossible to secure a new place. Her family’s next chapters were defined by constant movement—staying in their car, couch-surfing, and finally settling into a motel room in a place frequented by health inspectors. According to the Atlanta public school system, this instability classifies Celeste and her children as homeless.

Celeste is one of five families featured in journalist Brian Goldstone’s compelling book, There Is No Place for Us: Working and Homeless in America. Over a three-year investigation beginning in 2019, Goldstone embedded himself in the lives of these families. He also interviewed dozens of individuals involved in the broader housing landscape—social workers, landlords, public officials, and advocates. His reporting seeks to reframe the way we think about homelessness. Contrary to the common assumption that homelessness primarily affects people with mental health or substance abuse issues, Goldstone shines a light on the growing number of Americans who work regularly but remain unhoused or precariously housed.

Redefining homelessness in modern America

The working homeless crisis in America, Goldstone argues, is far larger and more insidious than commonly acknowledged. These families don’t necessarily sleep on the streets or in shelters. Instead, they inhabit a precarious middle ground—cheap motels, overcrowded apartments, friends’ couches, or even their own vehicles. Their lives are marked by relentless movement, uncertainty, and lack of stability. They work low-wage jobs, often more than one, and yet can’t afford a stable home. They spend more than half of their income on rent, leaving little for food, health care, or savings.

In Celeste’s case, even a diagnosis of cancer didn't slow her down entirely. She continued working while undergoing treatment, because not working wasn’t an option. Like the other women featured in the book, she endures not just economic hardship but a series of compounded crises—abuse, illness, job loss, and systemic indifference.

Misfortune, resilience, and a broken safety net

Goldstone’s narrative is filled with heart-wrenching detail. Each family’s descent into homelessness is marked by a unique blend of personal tragedy and institutional failure. While some contend with the lingering impacts of addiction or trauma, the most consistent theme is how quickly a cascade of bad luck can make housing unaffordable.

Despite the high emotional stakes, Goldstone’s proposed solutions lack the same power. His prescriptions for solving the working homeless crisis in America—rent control, legal rights to housing, more public housing, and tenant protections—are not new. Many have been tried, and often failed, in major cities. What’s missing is an honest reckoning with why these programs frequently fall short and what might actually be required to make them work.

The families Goldstone profiles find little relief from existing government assistance. Bureaucratic delays, long waitlists, and stringent rules often render these programs ineffective. One family loses their shot at a subsidized apartment because a required environmental review drags on too long. Others face impossible timelines and qualification hurdles. These failures raise crucial questions: Even if housing policies were expanded, would they be any more functional or accessible than the current patchwork?

Who is to blame for the crisis?

Goldstone places the blame squarely on the alliance between the housing industry, financial interests, and local governments. He argues that cities like Atlanta are actively pushing families out of affordable neighborhoods in the name of redevelopment and gentrification. Developers seek high-end profits, city planners chase growth and prestige, and financiers look for strong returns on real estate investments. Caught in the middle are working families, many of them Black, who find their long-time neighborhoods unaffordable or physically demolished.

He is scathing in his assessment: families are not simply “falling” into homelessness—they are being pushed. Urban revitalization may benefit the city as a whole, but it often leaves the most vulnerable behind.

Missing perspectives and unexamined solutions

Although Goldstone paints a vivid portrait of struggle and displacement, his focus is almost entirely on those being left behind. He offers little discussion of families who have managed to rise out of poverty through education, support networks, or better job opportunities—even within the same cities. By not engaging with these stories, he risks flattening the broader picture of urban change and oversimplifying the solutions.

Even among the families profiled, personal decisions and family structures play a significant role in their outcomes. Most of the women are single mothers with children by different fathers, and few have reliable support systems. The only two-parent household Goldstone follows enjoys greater stability and, by the book’s conclusion, is cautiously optimistic about the future. This detail raises uncomfortable but important questions about how family dynamics and social support intersect with economic hardship.

A powerful diagnosis but incomplete prescription

There Is No Place for Us excels as a work of immersive journalism. Goldstone gives voice to families who are often invisible in public policy debates and underrepresented in media coverage. His book is especially relevant in cities like Atlanta, where economic growth has not been evenly distributed and housing affordability continues to worsen.

However, while Goldstone effectively communicates the depth of the working homeless crisis in America, he falls short of offering convincing or actionable solutions. He doesn’t fully address how to make assistance programs more effective, nor does he explore how public policy could mitigate the personal challenges these families face. Without these considerations, his call to action feels incomplete.

The rise of the working homeless in a booming economy

What makes Goldstone’s book particularly striking is the contradiction it highlights: even as urban economies expand and employment rates remain steady, more and more people are unable to secure housing. This disconnect exposes deep flaws in the American economic promise—that hard work will lead to security. For families like Celeste’s, that promise feels like a cruel illusion.

The working homeless crisis in America is not limited to Atlanta. It’s a growing phenomenon in cities across the country. As rents rise and wages stagnate, millions of Americans hover on the brink of eviction. Books like There Is No Place for Us are essential in drawing attention to these realities, even if they fall short of solving them.

Brian Goldstone’s work reminds us that the face of homelessness is changing—and we need to change our understanding, our policies, and our sense of urgency to meet it. The question that lingers, however, is whether we have the political will and practical vision to create meaningful change before more working families are left without a place to call home.