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This guest post is written by Dominique Waters, a youth-serving nonprofit leader in Akron and the founder of Akron Sneaker Academy, where he helps create pathways for young people through sneaker culture, creativity, and STEAM learning. Dominique is a community champion recognized for his work investing in Akron’s next generation. In the reflection below, he shares why housing feels foundational to youth opportunity and what gives him hope about Unify Akron’s Civic Assembly on Housing.
By: Dominique Waters
In my work with young people in Akron, I see every day how much home shapes everything. It shapes how they show up to after-school programming, how they show up to school, and how they show up in the world. When a young person has a stable, safe place to live, you can see it in their confidence, their focus, and their sense of possibility. When housing is unstable or unsafe, it shows up too—in their anxiety, their exhaustion, and the way they talk (or don’t talk) about their future. You can’t separate a child’s potential from the conditions they’re going home to at night.
I know this not only as a youth-serving nonprofit leader, but from my own story. I grew up in the inner city and moved several times between kindergarten and 12th grade. I remember what it felt like to pack up, switch schools, adjust to a new neighborhood, and try to find my footing again—socially, academically, emotionally. Even with just a few moves over those years, it shook my sense of stability and shaped how I saw myself and what I thought was possible for my life.
Now I work with young people who might move three times in a single year. Imagine trying to keep up in school, to build friendships, to show up consistently to a program, when you don’t know where you’re sleeping next month—or next week. Imagine trying to dream big when your energy is consumed just trying to stay grounded. That’s why I believe there is no real pathway without home. You cannot talk about opportunity, education, workforce development, or thriving neighborhoods if the foundation of housing is cracked. That truth is what drew me into Unify Akron and this Citizens Assembly on Housing.
When I was first approached about Unify Akron more than a year ago, I’ll be honest—I was hesitant. I was in the middle of building Akron Sneaker Academy, pouring my heart into creating culturally relevant, youth-centered pathways to STEM, creativity, and purpose. The idea of helping launch a new citywide initiative felt like a lot to add to an already full plate.
But as I listened, something in me recognized the same DNA. Unify Akron’s vision is to bring “unlikely voices” to the table, to treat lived experience as expertise, and to build solutions with residents rather than for them. That is the same spirit that drives my work with youth. If I’m going to talk about removing barriers and creating pathways for young people, I can’t ignore the reality that housing is one of the biggest barriers they face. There is no sneaker design workshop, no STEM activity, no leadership program that can fully land if a young person’s home life is in constant upheaval.
That’s why I agreed to join the early conversations about what issue this first Citizens Assembly should tackle. We could’ve started with a number of topics—youth violence, transportation, and others were on the list. But we chose housing because it touches all of those things. Housing stability or instability is woven into mental health, school attendance, neighborhood safety, and access to opportunity. Starting with housing felt like starting at the root.
When we gathered at Bounce Innovation Hub for the Unify Akron press conference, I thought it would simply be an announcement—a chance to let the community know what we were planning. Instead, it felt like a turning point.
Standing there and watching the City of Akron and Unify Akron sign a formal Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) gave me chills. It was powerful to see Mayor Shammas Malik, City Council President Margo Sommerville, and Unify Akron’s team—especially Morgan Lasher—standing together in public, committing to a shared vision. It was more than a photo-op; it felt like a watershed moment in our city’s history, where civic innovation and city government weren’t on parallel tracks, but actually meeting each other.
For me, the MOU is what makes this effort different from so many other “listening sessions” we’ve seen in the past. Unify Akron is making a promise to galvanize residents—to invite them in, amplify their voices, and create a space where their lived experience is treated as data and wisdom. The City of Akron, in turn, is making a promise to listen with accountability: to receive the Assembly’s recommendations, respond to them, and be transparent about what action is taken. It’s a reciprocal commitment—residents show up with their stories and ideas, and government shows up with a willingness to act.
What makes this partnership so significant is that neither side can do this alone. Civic innovation on its own can generate energy, ideas, and hope—but without government at the table, those ideas struggle to become policy or practice. Government on its own can create plans and programs—but without residents’ lived experience, those plans often miss the mark or never build real trust.
For too long, we’ve treated these two worlds as if they have to be separate: organizers over here, elected officials over there. This MOU brings both sides together, in the open, and says: we are choosing to work in unison. That sets a powerful precedent for how a community should function—rooted in collaboration, problem-solving, and a shared commitment to making Akron a better place for the people who call it home.
In a city that has seen its share of reports, task forces, and plans that didn’t always translate into change, this moment felt like a different kind of promise. Not a promise that everything will be easy or that every recommendation will be implemented exactly as written—but a promise that residents will not be used for their stories and then forgotten. A promise that we are willing to try a new way of doing democracy—one that is slower, more relational, and more honest about who holds power and how it’s shared.
At the heart of this effort is something simple but radical: the belief that people who have lived through housing instability are not problems to be fixed—they are experts to be listened to. If you’ve ever been evicted, if you’ve had to move three times in a year, if you’ve dealt with mold, unsafe conditions, or rent that keeps climbing faster than your paycheck—you are not just a statistic. You carry insight that this city needs.
My hope is that Akronites see this Civic Assembly on Housing as an invitation, not just an announcement. If you live in Akron and housing has touched your life—good or bad—I hope you’ll consider putting your name in the civic lottery. If you serve Akron residents through a church, a school, a nonprofit, a business, or a neighborhood association, I hope you’ll help us reach the people who don’t usually get invited into rooms like this.
To me, the MOU signing was more than a document. It was a signal that Akron is willing to believe in its people—in our ability to learn together, wrestle together, and chart a path forward together. It was a reminder that home is the foundation for any pathway, and that when we center dignity and voice, we don’t just improve housing policy. We change how a city sees itself.
If we get this right, the story of Unify Akron won’t just be about a single Assembly or a single set of recommendations. It will be about a community that decided to do democracy differently—where residents who once felt unheard became co-authors of the future. And for a kid growing up in Akron, wondering where they fit in this city and where they’ll sleep next month, that kind of shift could change everything.

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