A Year In a Bird Cage


The summer before my sophomore year, I was homeless. Not literally, but I thought I would be if I didn’t find an affordable place to live that wasn’t in the stabbing radius of school. Couch hopping just weeks before the first day of classes, I walked around Old Louisville one August afternoon. Not even 50 feet from Cardtowne (where I was staying), I saw a “for rent” sign perched on a put-put sized front lawn. Long story short, I called the number, rent was reasonable, and the landlord said she would like to meet with me to discuss my future living there.

Alright, easy enough.

On the tour of the house, she told me that university dancers and cheerleaders lived there, and “there was one empty room that needed to be occupied,” when she cast me a nervous look. I think she thought I’d back out, given catty stereotypes…

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