Ousted by the City, Tenants Seek a Home

In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here.

#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}

The accommodations on the fourth floor of 81 Bowery were meager and tight: dozens of people, mostly new Chinese immigrants ranging in age from 19 to 88, crammed into small cubicles, sharing a bthroom. But for people with little money and nowhere to stay, like Zhu Benjin, 52, a construction worker, the closet-size cubicles were home.

Life there was upended, however, on March 7, when city officials arrived unexpectedly, broke down the doors and ordered people to leave. In shutting the floor down, the city cited safety violations, as it has before.

Annie Ling Daily activities spilled from the tiny cubicles to the hallway on the fourth floor of 81 Bowery, before eviction.

The raid has left the residents â€" including restaurant workers, day laborers, laundromat attendants and a retired man on dialysis â€" bewildered and scrambling for somewhere to go.

“I have nowhere to go,” said Mr. Zhu, who like others paid $200 a month in rent. “Am I s! upposed to live in the subway”

For others, the crackdown meant more than just losing a place to sleep. Some residents had lived on the floor for 30 years, and they described a tight-knit community where neighbors cooked for one another, lent one another money and watched Chinese operas together.

“We were like a family,” said Chen Xiukang, 62, a cook at a Chinese restaurant. “We help each other. We rely on one another.”

The city has provided temporary housing to those who were able to prove that they were legally occupying their spaces. Others, without documentation, are still searching for places to stay â€" for now, imposing on friends and relatives.

“We never thought it would come to something like this,” said Jiang Jinrong, 62, a retired restaurant worker. “Here in America, when they kick you out like this, what can we do We just hope they let us back in soon.”

Annie Ling Tenants gathered their belongings during eviction.

Annie Ling, a New York-based photographer born in Taipei, Taiwan, photographed the tenants of 81 Bowery over a stretch beginning in 2009. Concerned with issues that affect Chinatown’s immigrants, Ms. Ling said her own story â€" her Chinatown tenement burned down in 2008, rendering her homeless for a year â€" helped show her how important, yet precarious, that community is. Her first major solo show, including work from “81 Bowery,” will open later this year at the Museum of Chinese in America.

Follow @lingphoto and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.

Ousted by the City, Tenants Seek a Home

In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here.

#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}

The accommodations on the fourth floor of 81 Bowery were meager and tight: dozens of people, mostly new Chinese immigrants ranging in age from 19 to 88, crammed into small cubicles, sharing a bthroom. But for people with little money and nowhere to stay, like Zhu Benjin, 52, a construction worker, the closet-size cubicles were home.

Life there was upended, however, on March 7, when city officials arrived unexpectedly, broke down the doors and ordered people to leave. In shutting the floor down, the city cited safety violations, as it has before.

Annie Ling Daily activities spilled from the tiny cubicles to the hallway on the fourth floor of 81 Bowery, before eviction.

The raid has left the residents â€" including restaurant workers, day laborers, laundromat attendants and a retired man on dialysis â€" bewildered and scrambling for somewhere to go.

“I have nowhere to go,” said Mr. Zhu, who like others paid $200 a month in rent. “Am I s! upposed to live in the subway”

For others, the crackdown meant more than just losing a place to sleep. Some residents had lived on the floor for 30 years, and they described a tight-knit community where neighbors cooked for one another, lent one another money and watched Chinese operas together.

“We were like a family,” said Chen Xiukang, 62, a cook at a Chinese restaurant. “We help each other. We rely on one another.”

The city has provided temporary housing to those who were able to prove that they were legally occupying their spaces. Others, without documentation, are still searching for places to stay â€" for now, imposing on friends and relatives.

“We never thought it would come to something like this,” said Jiang Jinrong, 62, a retired restaurant worker. “Here in America, when they kick you out like this, what can we do We just hope they let us back in soon.”

Annie Ling Tenants gathered their belongings during eviction.

Annie Ling, a New York-based photographer born in Taipei, Taiwan, photographed the tenants of 81 Bowery over a stretch beginning in 2009. Concerned with issues that affect Chinatown’s immigrants, Ms. Ling said her own story â€" her Chinatown tenement burned down in 2008, rendering her homeless for a year â€" helped show her how important, yet precarious, that community is. Her first major solo show, including work from “81 Bowery,” will open later this year at the Museum of Chinese in America.

Follow @lingphoto and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.