Betrayed by the Boomers: How One Generation Broke the Housing Dream
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A classic suburban "white picket fence" home, long an icon of the American Dream, now increasingly out of reach for younger Americans.
Trigger Warning: This post pulls no punches. Baby Boomers – the post-WWII generation once hailed for their prosperity – are called out for a housing heist that's left Millennials and Gen Z holding the short end of the stick. The very American Dream of owning a home with a white picket fence has become a cruel joke for today's young adults. Why? Because the generation that benefited most from affordable homes, new mortgages, and decades of economic tailwinds has systematically skewed the system in their favor. The result: sky-high home prices, crushing mortgages, and a rigged market that's left younger generations feeling betrayed and boxed out.
Sound dramatic? The facts back it up. Baby Boomers as a group have amassed unprecedented wealth – and they're not sharing. They own a disproportionate slice of America's real estate and have shaped policies to protect their stakes. Meanwhile, Millennials and Gen Z face a housing market so distorted that doing "all the right things" (getting an education, good job, saving for a down payment) often isn't enough to buy a modest home in a major city. This isn't mere whining from the avocado-toast crowd; it's a national crisis rooted in decades of decisions that Boomers either drove or benefited from. Let's dive into the bold claims and blunt realities of this generational housing showdown.
It's no exaggeration to say Baby Boomers are the richest generation ever – and housing is a huge part of that wealth. By 2025, Americans over 60 controlled nearly $19 trillion in U.S. housing wealth – almost 40% of all real estate value in the country. That dominance in property is part of a larger wealth story: Boomers have accumulated $85 trillion in assets (stocks, real estate, etc.), which is twice as much as Gen X and four times more than Millennials. All this despite Boomers making up only about one-fifth of the population. The generational wealth gap is real, and it's staggering.
Homeownership and Assets: Many Boomers were able to buy homes young and ride a wave of rising values. About one-third of Boomer wealth is now tied up in their homes, after decades of price appreciation. In contrast, Millennials and Gen Z had to start their careers during recessions and face higher debts (student loans, anyone?). By age 30, the average Millennial had twice as much debt as the average Boomer did at 30, leaving less to invest in a home.
Home Buying Power: Baby Boomers aren't just sitting on valuable homes – they're still buying up real estate. In 2025 they shockingly overtook Millennials as the largest group of homebuyers, accounting for 42% of all home purchases. Many Boomers are buying second homes or investment properties, often paying in cash. In fact, nearly half of all home purchases by Boomers are done with all-cash offers, giving them a huge edge over younger buyers who rely on mortgages. This isn't because Boomers are inherently smarter or thriftier – it's because they have the money and home equity to outbid everyone else, as real estate analysts note.
Homeownership Gap: Overall U.S. homeownership rates inched up from 62% in 1960 to about 65% today, but don't be fooled. That increase is largely because Boomers (and older) own multiple homes. Among young adults, homeownership has plummeted. In 1960, a typical 30-year-old (likely a young Silent Generation or Boomer) was often married and already a homeowner – about 52% of 30-year-olds owned a home and were married. Today, that figure is a pathetic 12%. In other words, young people starting out now are far less likely to own a home than their parents or grandparents were at the same age. It's a 40-point free fall that represents millions of young families shut out of home ownership.
Let that sink in: Boomers have turned what used to be a normal milestone of young adulthood – buying a first home – into a near impossible feat without either rich relatives or extraordinary luck. And it's not simply because young people spend too much on lattes. It's because the game board changed in Boomers' favor, through both market forces and deliberate choices.
To understand how we got here, we have to rewind to the mid-20th century when modern mortgages became the norm. The introduction of low-fixed-rate, long-term mortgages (like the 30-year fixed loan backed by the FHA and VA after WWII) was revolutionary. It opened homeownership to millions of average Americans with modest down payments – a wave that Boomers' parents and early Boomers surfed to great advantage. In the post-war housing boom, suburbs sprang up and home values steadily grew, offering an on-ramp to middle-class wealth that was largely unprecedented before.
Baby Boomers were born into this "homeownership society" and by the 1970s many of them were buying their first houses. They effectively bought low and reaped high. Consider this: in 1976, when the oldest Boomers were around 30 and buying homes, the U.S. median home price was just $42,800 – about $242,000 in today's dollars after inflation adjustment. Fast forward to now: the median home price is roughly $410,000+. In high-demand regions it's much higher (the median in the Northeast is about $797,000). Home values have far outstripped inflation, meaning a young person today needs to pay significantly more real dollars for the same house than a Boomer did.
Crucially, Boomers often benefited from eras of falling interest rates and accessible credit. Through the 1980s and 1990s, and especially after the 2008 recession, interest rates on mortgages dropped, allowing homeowners to refinance to cheaper loans or trade up to bigger houses. Many Boomers locked in 30-year mortgages at historically low rates (some under 3% during the pandemic boom) and watched their home equity explode as prices spiked. From 2012 to 2022, U.S. home prices rose about 7.2% per year on average, while wages crept up only ~3.3% per year. That gap created massive wealth for those who already owned homes – and massive hurdles for those who didn't.
Meanwhile, the very expansion of mortgage credit that helped Boomers buy homes ended up fueling home price inflation. Easy lending standards and government policies encouraged more people to buy, which bid up prices further. By the early 2000s, "creative" mortgages (zero-down, interest-only, etc.) proliferated – and while that culminated in the 2008 crash, the response was telling: policy makers (many of them Boomers) bailed out the housing market with low interest rates and stimulus, propping up prices instead of letting them reset to affordable levels. The message was clear: home prices must always go up. Great if you already owned; devastating if you were hoping to buy your first home after the crash. What could have been a fresh chance for younger buyers turned into another Boomers-first asset rally.
The result of decades of price climbs and debt-fueled buying? Housing today is a warped market. The price-to-income ratios – basically how many years of income it costs to buy a home – have shot through the roof. Historically, homes cost about 2 to 3 times a typical household's annual income. But in 2022 the national median home cost 5.6 times the median household income – the highest on record. That's nearly double the burden from just a few decades ago. And in the most sought-after cities, it's downright absurd:
Unaffordable Cities: On the West Coast, price-to-income ratios have hit stratospheric levels – San Jose is around 12.0, San Francisco 11.3, and Los Angeles not far behind. (Yes, an average home in San Jose costs 12 years of local median income!) In the Northeast, markets like Miami (8.7), New York (7.1), and Boston (6.5) all demand well above historical norms. Even traditionally "affordable" cities have seen prices climb to 4× or 5× incomes. For context, as recently as the year 2000, only 5 out of 100 major markets had price-to-income ratios above 5.0 – now 48 of the top 100 markets do. In 2000, two-thirds of big cities had home prices under 3× local incomes; today, only one city (Syracuse, NY) is still that low. This is a radical transformation of the housing value proposition.
The "Value Proposition" is Gone: For many young families, buying a home in these high-demand areas no longer makes financial sense. You either stretch yourself to the brink with a huge mortgage (often hundreds of thousands of dollars, which wasn't the case for prior generations), or you give up and keep renting. A typical Boston-area home that cost $165,000 in 1995 now goes for around $714,000 – and with today's higher interest rates, the monthly mortgage payment on that modest home would be four times higher than it was in the '90s. Nationally, the monthly payment on a median-priced home jumped about 59% in just three years (2020–2023) due to rising prices and interest rates. Imagine: you're a Millennial who saved diligently, only to find the starter home you want costs 3× what your parents paid and your mortgage will eat half your income. That's the reality in many cities.
This isn't simply market fate – it's a byproduct of policies and preferences that Boomers either enacted or indulged in. They were the pioneers and the biggest beneficiaries of the mortgage-driven housing boom, and now younger generations are navigating the fallout: overpriced homes and an economy distorted by an obsession with housing wealth.
Perhaps the most infuriating part of this story is how intentional much of this imbalance feels. Baby Boomers – not every individual, but as a dominant voting bloc – have spent decades entrenching a pro-owner, anti-builder status quo. Through local and national politics, they've systemically made it harder to create affordable housing, thus protecting the value of the homes they own (and crushing supply for everyone else).
Zoning laws and community opposition ("NIMBY" – Not In My Back Yard) have severely limited housing growth in the places it's needed most. And who led the charge on exclusionary zoning and endless red tape for new construction? Largely the Boomers. They came of age and bought homes in an era of cheap land and suburban expansion, then often turned around and pulled up the ladder behind them. For decades, many Boomers in suburban town councils and urban neighborhood boards have treated new housing like a menace. They downzoned neighborhoods to single-family only, fought apartment developments, and imposed ludicrous hurdles on builders (from height limits to parking minimums) – all in the name of "neighborhood character" or property values. The result: an artificial housing shortage that pushes prices even higher, exactly what existing homeowners want. As one columnist put it, this "protectionist system" ensures housing stays a "good investment – albeit one only Boomers can afford". In plainer terms, Boomers designed housing policy to make their houses more expensive, even if it means pricing out their own kids.
In theory, as Boomers hit retirement, they'd sell large homes and downsize, freeing up inventory for younger buyers. In reality, many Boomers aren't selling at all – they're "aging in place" en masse, or even buying second homes. Surveys show that about 63% of Boomers plan to hold onto their homes for 10+ years (or never sell during their lifetime). Why wouldn't they? Many enjoy ultra-low mortgage rates locked in a few years ago, and their homes are comfortable nest eggs. This hoarding of housing means fewer starter homes on the market. In suburbs across America, you have empty-nest couples sitting on 4-bedroom houses with manicured yards, refusing to budge – while young families cram into rentals. Nearly 90% of Boomer-owned houses are single-family units in suburbs, a lot of them too large for the owners' needs but perfect for a new generation… if only they'd sell. The anticipated "silver tsunami" of Boomers selling homes has become a trickle at best – and it might never truly materialize. Younger buyers can't inherit or purchase homes that simply aren't on the market.
And when Boomers do move, many aren't moving into retirement condos – they're buying just as large homes in cheaper markets. Think of the California Boomer who sells a $1.5 million bungalow and moves to Arizona or Florida, paying cash to outbid locals for a McMansion. It's happening everywhere: half of older Boomers (70+) and two in five younger Boomers (60s) are purchasing homes entirely with cash, often in Sun Belt or rural areas where their equity goes far. They swoop in with offers no first-time buyer can match, driving up prices in places that used to be affordable. One real estate analyst bluntly observed, "Boomers have the money and housing equity, and they were able to win out in multiple-bid situations by either paying all cash or putting down a significant down payment." It's the Hunger Games of housing, and the tributes with gray hair keep coming out on top.
Let's not forget voting power. Boomers vote at higher rates than younger people and have wielded that influence to preserve their perks. Property tax caps that favor longtime owners, federal tax deductions for mortgage interest (which mostly benefit those with big mortgages and multiple homes), resistance to tenant protections – these policies skew toward older, wealthier homeowners. Even at the national level, when the housing market cratered in 2008, the narrative (driven by older policymakers and media) was that falling prices were a "crisis" – not for young buyers, but for existing owners and banks. Trillions in stimulus and low-interest policies followed, reflating asset prices and bailing out Boomers' wealth. The perspective of younger Americans – that cheaper home prices might actually be welcome – was nowhere to be found in power circles.
The bottom line: Boomers collectively treated housing not as the foundation of community or family life, but as an investment vehicle and status symbol to be guarded. They voted and lobbied to make housing scarcer and debt-financed demand higher. This zero-sum thinking ("if my house price goes up, I win") ignored the fact that younger and future Americans would be left with an unaffordable mess. Now, Millennials and Gen Z are paying the price – literally – for that short-sighted greed.
For Millennials and Gen Z, the fallout of these trends isn't abstract – it's shaping life choices in painful ways. The traditional milestones of adulthood have been delayed or denied by the housing crunch:
As noted, homeownership rates for young adults have collapsed. With buying a home so difficult, many Millennials are postponing starting families or settling down. It's hard to confidently have kids when you don't know if you'll ever afford more than a one-bedroom apartment. The data shows young adults today are years behind previous generations in family formation, and housing costs are a big reason. In 2022, the typical first-time homebuyer hit a record-high age of 40 years old, up from the late 20s in the 1980s. That's more than a decade of life delayed compared to Boomers' timeline. High rents and home prices mean millions of young people simply can't start building equity or putting down roots until middle age – if ever.
Those who can't buy are stuck renting or living with family. Rents have been skyrocketing alongside home prices (since fewer can buy, rental demand jumps). By the early 2020s, half of renter households were cost-burdened (paying over 30% of income on rent), the highest level on record. This includes a growing share of middle-income young professionals – people who, in past generations, would have been saving for a down payment, not funneling cash to a landlord. Others remain in their parents' homes into their late 20s or 30s, not by choice but by necessity. The social ripples are significant: less spending power for young adults (dragging on the economy) and a sense of arrested development for many.
Owning a home was once considered a basic component of the American Dream – a symbol of stability and success. Being unable to achieve it can breed resentment, anxiety, and disillusionment. It's galling for today's young people to constantly hear older folks say "When I was your age, I bought my first house on a $20,000 salary" – because that was possible then! Now it sounds like a fairy tale. This generational tension is fueling some real anger. Many younger adults feel the system is rigged (with good reason) and are increasingly open to "radical" solutions – from massive student debt forgiveness to robust housing subsidies or new wealth taxes on the rich (which, let's face it, includes a lot of Boomers). When people perceive that the American Dream has been stolen from them, they start looking for big changes. Politically, that's a powder keg.
One telling sign: surveys show a decline in the belief that working hard will allow today's young to do better than their parents. In 1940, there was a 90% chance an American child would earn more than their parents; now it's 50-50. A coin flip. That eroding optimism is tied to things like housing affordability. It's hard to feel upwardly mobile when your generation is poorer than your parents' generation at the same age, with higher costs to get the same foothold in life. Millennials today have significantly less wealth than Boomers did at age 40, despite often higher education – largely because they couldn't easily buy homes and build equity during their prime years.
Yet, amid this grim picture, Millennials and Gen Z are also mobilizing. They are acutely aware of the injustice and are starting to flex their own influence:
Younger activists and some forward-thinking leaders are pushing for pro-housing policies to unwind the damage. States like California – ironically a Boomer bastion – have begun passing laws to override local NIMBY zoning (e.g. legalizing duplexes on single-family lots, streamlining permits for apartments). Cities like Minneapolis and Portland have upzoned to allow more multi-family housing. These changes were unthinkable a decade ago when Boomers' NIMBY voice reigned supreme. They show that with enough pressure (and as more Millennials become city councilors and legislators), the tide can turn on restrictive housing policy. It's a start, albeit a small one, toward building our way out of the shortage.
Younger generations are also rethinking what "the American Dream" means. If buying a standalone house is out of reach, many embrace alternatives: cooperative housing, co-living arrangements, moving to lower-cost regions, or even deciding that lifelong renting isn't shameful if it grants mobility. Some Millennials have given up on high-cost coastal cities and sought opportunities in mid-sized cities where homes are still somewhat affordable. In a sense, Millennials and Gen Z are adapting – not by choice, but out of necessity – to a world where their parents' path isn't available. They're also more open to holding Boomers accountable in public discourse (just witness the viral phrase "OK boomer" as a dismissal of outdated, entitled viewpoints). The housing fiasco is definitely one of those viewpoints being called out.
It would be easy to paint all Boomers as cartoon villains twirling their mustaches while Millennials suffer. Reality is more nuanced. Not every Boomer is a millionaire homeowner, and not every Millennial is destitute. Some Boomers support affordable housing and some young people fall into the same NIMBY mindset once they manage to buy in. The housing crisis has multiple causes – from urban job concentration to global investment flows – not just generational greed. However, the generational divide in housing fortune is very real, and it demands honest reckoning.
Baby Boomers, as a whole, need to acknowledge the privileged position they occupy in the housing market – much of it thanks to timing and policy choices, not just hard work or moral superiority. Housing was easier for them: cheaper relative to income, aided by new mortgage tools and a growing economy, and often subsidized by government policies their children and grandchildren simply don't enjoy. This isn't about guilt-tripping one's parents; it's about recognizing a societal imbalance and fixing it.
For Boomers who ask, "What do you want us to do, give our houses away?" – the answer is: be part of the solution instead of the problem. Support zoning reforms that allow more housing to be built, even if it modestly dents your property values. Stop reflexively opposing apartments or transit-oriented development in your community. Consider the legacy you want to leave: an economy where young families can thrive, or a feudal setup where only your heirs (and the wealthiest few) can own homes in nice areas. If you've profited massively from the run-up in home values, maybe support policies like land value taxes or increased property taxes that fund affordability programs. After all, you can't take those paper gains with you – but you can contribute to a fairer system for those coming next.
For Millennials and Gen Z, the task is to keep pushing – politically and socially – for change. The good news is you have numbers on your side (Millennials are now the largest adult cohort by population). As more Boomers retire from public office, a new generation of leaders can rewrite the rules. We need a surge of "Yes In My Back Yard" (YIMBY) activism to counter decades of NIMBYism – and that's happening, from California's pro-housing bills to local groups demanding denser, more affordable development. Keep that pressure up. Support candidates who prioritize housing affordability, zoning reform, and transit (which enables housing expansion). And don't be afraid to challenge the narrative when older folks claim moral high ground because they bought a cheap house in 1975 – remind them (respectfully but firmly) that times have changed because policies made them change.
Lastly, we should remember that intergenerational war is not the goal. Many individual Boomers are just as concerned for their kids' and grandkids' futures. The real enemy is complacency and the worship of ever-rising home prices. If there's one thing to take away, it's that treating homes as get-rich investments instead of places to live has consequences. It might enrich one generation, but it impoverishes another. The American Dream was supposed to renew with each generation, not become a hand-me-down antique.
It's time to restore the balance – to make housing a source of stability and opportunity again, not a battleground of generational strife. Baby Boomers showed us one version of America, where a booming economy and new mortgages built a prosperous middle class (for a while). Now Millennials and Gen Z must build the next version – one where prosperity isn't hoarded, where the ladder of opportunity is anchored again at the bottom for anyone to climb. Achieving that will require hard conversations, bold policies, and yes, some sacrifice from those who've long been comfortable. But the alternative is unacceptable: a society permanently divided into owners and outsiders, haves and have-nots, Boomers and the bitter rest.
The American Dream is not dead, but it's been held hostage. It's past time to demand a ransom – or perhaps a better term is reform – so that owning a home in a thriving city isn't an unattainable fantasy for the young. After all, a dream that's only alive for the old is no dream at all – it's a broken promise. And if there's one thing younger Americans are determined to do, it's to collect on that promise, even if it means taking on an army of complacent Boomers in the process.
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