Everybody hates their HOA — especially the people who run them

Lana Martin, a government employee, found herself unexpectedly becoming the president of her Los Angeles homeowners association in 2022. She had been assigned to the board after noticing that her complex's leaders were neglecting critical issues, such as a leaky roof that was flooding her neighbors' living rooms.

Martin assumed the role to help out, but found herself shouldering the majority of the work due to the other board members' lack of involvement. She handles vendor calls, fields resident complaints, and manages a low-budget property manager. The residents were outraged by the cost of the roof replacement project, which amounted to roughly $160,000 and included a painful $13,000 assessment for each unit. Some residents even accused the HOA board and management company of acting illegally and threatened to take legal action.

Martin has had to block some of her neighbors' phone numbers as they tried to second-guess her decisions and actions. She explained that residents often fail to become involved, but that is one of the reasons she is now holding the bag. HOAs are essentially private mini-governments made up of non-expert volunteers who live in close proximity to one another. They are a growing phenomenon in the United States, with 373,000 community associations covering 29.6 million housing units and 78.1 million residents in 2025.

HOAs typically attract two archetypes, according to Evan McKenzie, a political science professor at the University of Illinois Chicago. The first category consists of reluctant pragmatists who join out of civic duty or self-defense. The second category comprises "condo commando" types who have strict ideas about how their neighbors should live. These individuals view the board as a badge of domestic authority and often clash with each other or the paralyzing apathy of the rest of the community.

James, a product designer in Los Angeles, found himself unexpectedly joining the HOA board due to his home's proximity to the complex. He acts as an unwitting customer service desk, handling petty issues like intercom numbers and rat sightings. One recent Friday night, someone reported a gas leak, to which James could only advise calling 911.

James wishes he could quit, but no one else is stepping up to the plate. Olivia Horbowy, another homeowner, experienced a similar situation when she discovered surprise accumulated fines related to her renovation plans. She refused to pay the fines and subsequently ran for the board herself. However, she faced resistance from a preexisting board member who accused her of being a "Russian whore" in emails. The member eventually resigned.