WHEN MELISSA SANTIAGO lost her apartment and became homeless in 2020, she was a 22-year-old single mom to a five-year-old and a newborn. She and her daughters moved into a shelter in Holyoke where they stayed for nearly two years.

Santiago grew up with a single mom in an unstable household and helped raise her other siblings. When she became homeless, she felt as though history was repeating itself.

“It took a big toll on me, because I felt like I was following in my mom’s footsteps, and my kids are going to feel the way I felt having to be the head of the household,” she said. “I felt horrible.”

It’s a far cry from where the 28-year-old is today.

No longer homeless, Santiago is in her third semester of college working toward a degree in early education. She recently made the dean’s list. On top of being a full-time student and working 14 hours a week, she is just a few steps away from being licensed to operate her own in-home daycare. She now has thousands tucked away in a savings account and has boosted her credit score to 744. Her next goal is to buy a home for her family.

She says it’s all thanks to a Worcester Housing Authority (WHA) program that has allowed her to live “a better life.”

The A Better Life (ABL) program launched in 2015 for families in state-subsidized public housing. The unique program requires residents to work, attend school, or participate in community service for 30 hours each week. The roughly 250 participating families receive intensive case management services and are required to complete life skills, job training, and financial literacy classes. Each participant must raise their credit score to a minimum of 650 to graduate.

Each ABL participant is also incentivized to save up to $15,000 through an escrow account – an interest-bearing account established by the WHA on behalf of the resident. Deposits are tied to each family’s rent payment and increase when a resident’s income goes up. The head of the household cannot touch the funds and will only receive the savings when they have graduated from the ABL program.

The intention is to motivate residents to reach independence as quickly as possible while freeing up housing slots for other families who remain on extensive wait lists amid a severe shortage of affordable housing units. But there is no time limit for residents completing the ABL program.

“We measure our success by how many families are able to move out,” Worcester Housing Authority CEO Alex Corrales said.

For over a decade, the program has been widely successful in helping residents reach self-sufficiency. Now, it has piqued the interest of Trump administration officials who are reshaping public housing policy across the nation.

Corrales takes what he considers to be a fairly unique approach to public housing: tough love. Since his appointment to the second largest housing authority in New England in 2016, he has championed the agency’s self-sufficiency initiatives. An immigrant from Costa Rica, Corrales grew up in public housing.

“One of my biggest pet peeves is when I see good people pity our residents, so then they don’t challenge them. When you pity someone, I almost feel like you’re saying, ‘I don’t think they have what it takes to overcome that,’” he said. “There’s a different element that I bring to the job because I’ve seen both sides of the coin.”

Massachusetts is one of only four states that operates its own state-funded public housing system, separate from federal programs administered by the US Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). Local housing authorities like the WHA administer both state and federal housing programs.

During a January visit to the WHA, Corrales’ tough-love approach caught the attention of Michael Banks, HUD’s New England regional administrator. Soon after, Corrales was asked to meet with Benjamin Hobbs, the assistant secretary for Public and Indian Housing, to discuss the ABL program ahead of HUD’s proposed shifts in federal housing policy.

“He wanted to learn more about the ABL program, success stories, and how we implemented the work-school requirements,” Corrales said.

At the end of February, HUD Secretary Scott Turner announced a long-awaited proposed rule that encourages, but does not require, all public housing authorities and private property owners who rent to people using a Section 8 housing voucher to implement a work requirement of up to 40 hours per week and time limits of at least two years for non-disabled, non-elderly adults in federally-funded housing. The decision to impose the new restrictions will be up to local housing authorities and property owners. If they do implement the policies, they will be required to provide supportive services, although HUD did not state that it will provide funding for those services.

“Work, not a welfare check, is the pathway to opportunity, stability, and the achievement of the American Dream,” Hobbs said in a February press release. “Today’s proposed rule will change lives, empower families, and set generations on a new upward trajectory.”

Corrales said HUD’s decision to make the time limits and work requirements optional instead of mandatory could have been influenced by what officials like Hobbs heard from him and other housing authorities.

“That leads me to believe they’ve taken into account some of the information they’re getting from the industry regarding what works and what maybe is not working,” he said. “The discretionary option to implement this work requirement I think was a big step in that regard. It gives local control to the housing authorities.”

HUD did not respond to a request for comment.

Since the start of his second term, the Trump administration has sought to make significant changes to federal rental assistance programs like Section 8, calling the current system “dysfunctional.” In last year’s White House budget plan, Trump proposed cutting rental aid by 40 percent and sending those funds to each state “to design their own rental assistance programs based on their unique needs and preferences.” He also proposed imposing a two-year time limit on rental assistance for able-bodied adults. The proposal was ultimately rejected by Congress.

Last year, Secretary Turner and other members of the Trump administration wrote a New York Times opinion piece calling on Congress to impose work requirements across multiple safety net programs, stating that federal spending dedicated to able-bodied, working-age adults “distracts from what should be the focus of these programs: the truly needy.”

Public housing authorities across the country have rarely adopted work requirements and time limits for their federal housing programs, in part due to a lack of capacity to administer or enforce them.

Around half of Section 8 and public housing households across the United States were work-able in 2024, according to a research brief published in 2025 by the Housing Solutions Lab, a housing policy research group affiliated with New York University. Of those work-able households, over half earned wage income in 2024, suggesting many would already satisfy work requirements if they were imposed. Approximately two-thirds of work-able households across those programs were families with children, and work-able households that did not earn wage income were mostly people with children.

Nearly 70 percent of Section 8 and public housing households that were work-able and received HUD assistance at the end of 2024 had been in the program for longer than two years. Imposing a two-year time limit would likely generate a significant administrative burden for housing authorities who would have to evict these residents and select new ones to take their place.

“It is challenging to design and implement time limits in a way that supports economic mobility and gives public housing authorities confidence they are not discharging households only for them to again face unsustainable rent burdens and housing instability,” the 2025 research brief notes.

When it comes to public housing, Corrales is not a fan of time limits.

“I want to do what I think is best to help our residents reach self-sufficiency. But I don’t believe forcing people to do something and then having an expiration date on it is the answer,” he said. “Yes, with the ABL program we have the work-school requirement, but there is a heavy, heavy, heavy dose of resources attached to that. That’s what I want to see on the federal side.”

Since the start of ABL, Corrales said they have seen a significant increase in the number of families that are able to leave public housing, either to go into the private rental market or to buy their own home. Before the ABL program, the WHA saw an average of just one resident that would buy a home each year after exiting public housing. The program has helped increase that number to around nine new homeowners every year.

According to Corrales, 93 percent of all WHA households are led by single moms. Some families don’t speak English, others start the program with little job experience to add to their resume, and some, like Santiago, experience health setbacks.

“Our families are very unique. They’re very different, and some will complete the program in two or three years. Others may take longer, but they all see success in some shape or form,” Corrales said.

Santiago, who entered the program in 2022 and has yet to graduate from ABL, recently had surgery after receiving a thyroid cancer diagnosis. Because she had housing to fall back on, she was able to manage the appointments, procedures, and recovery without losing her apartment.

“If there was a time limit, I would probably be homeless again right now,” Santiago said. “I neglected my health for so long, and I needed time to get myself in check. … Of course I want to leave. If I could leave right now, I would, but I know I’m not there yet.”

When ABL first started, the average length of time WHA residents spent in housing across all of the authority’s programs was close to 17 years. That number has been reduced to an average of 11 years for those in ABL.

“We know some families may never be able to move out, but since our focus is on the entire family, we want to ensure that the children receive the best education possible so they can break the cycle and not reside in public housing once they are adults,” Corrales said.

Leika Cherubin, a 30-year-old graduate of the ABL program who has since purchased her own home in Southbridge, said a time limit would have made her feel like a number, not an individual.

“My biggest fear was being a stereotype. ‘Oh, she’s a young minority who is just trying to take advantage of the government and just wants handouts,’” she said. “No. I wanted to work hard. I wanted to be self-sufficient. I just needed help.”

Public housing has never been particularly popular, and has long faced fierce political attacks, local opposition, and limited federal funding.

“A lot of people in public housing get the bad rep,” Santiago said, adding that she often avoids giving out her address because of it.

In addition to the 250 families that are currently participating in the ABL program, another 250 are part of WHA’s other self-sufficiency program available to residents of federal public housing and Section 8 voucher holders. The wait list for ABL is years.

“We’re barely scratching the surface. There are 36,000 people on my waitlist, and it’s moving very slowly. I only have 3,000 public housing units, so I’d have to move everybody out 12 times before I get to my 36,000 folks,” Corrales said.

Nevaeha Vazquez entered the ABL program in 2021 as an 18-year-old single mother. Prior to the program, she had been couch-surfing and living in a shelter with her infant daughter. During her time in ABL, she enrolled in school and successfully earned her practical nursing degree. She recently graduated from the program and transitioned to the private rental market.

“I can’t even imagine having to pay market rent while being in school and worrying about my child,” Vazquez said.

Through financial literacy classes, program coaching, and debt management guidance, the now 23-year-old increased her credit score from 514 to 651, significantly reduced her loan debt, and reached the program’s maximum escrow savings of $15,000. ABL also offers domestic violence classes and workshops to residents like Vazquez who was previously in an abusive relationship. While residents attend their required classes and workshops, ABL staff offer child supervision and meals.

Without the ABL program, Santiago said she probably would have chosen work over school in order to pay rent.

“This program is great because it lights a fire under you,” Santiago said. “I didn’t have anyone to guide me. I had to help my mom raise my siblings, so I had to grow up too fast. What my mom didn’t teach me, I’m getting taught here – credit, the importance of saving, and the good stuff that sets you up for success.”

But that doesn’t mean she is eager to stay.

“There are people who need help, and that’s why I want to leave this program,” she said. “Just like I needed it, there’s somebody else that needs it too.”

During her time in the program, Cherubin, a Haitian immigrant, founded a nonprofit organization supporting the local Haitian community. The ABL program helped her build up a savings account, raise her credit score to 737, and pay off her car loan. She also attended Anna Maria College where she earned her bachelor’s degree in nursing.

“There is no way I would have been able to complete my bachelor’s if I didn’t have the support of ABL,” she said.

Prior to joining the program in 2021, Cherubin was a single mom who was couch-surfing with her young daughter while working as a certified nursing assistant.

“It was one of the worst feelings ever. This is the life that I’m going to give my kid? This is it?” Cherubin said. “ABL is helping us break those generational barriers.”

When she received the keys to her first apartment at the start of the program, Cherubin said she cried. Now, she is a homeowner.

“For a lot of us, our dream is to have this backyard and have our babies play in it while we wash the dishes or something. To have a home where they feel safe,” Cherubin said. “Without ABL, I probably would have given up on that dream.”