Real Estate Law · August 31, 2026 · 8 min read
Texas just did something interesting. And uncomfortable.
Realtor.com reported this weekend that hundreds of Texas cities are now required to allow manufactured homes—those factory-built houses that used to be called mobile homes—under a state law aimed squarely at the affordability crisis. The catch? Local zoning boards can still decide where they go, and early signals suggest some cities are cracking that door open just wide enough to technically comply, then slamming it shut with lot-size requirements, setback rules, and "aesthetic standards" that price out the very homes the law was supposed to welcome.
I'm writing about a Texas law because it throws Maryland's own affordability paralysis into sharp relief. We don't have a state mandate like this. Our counties and municipalities retain near-total control over what gets built and where. And while that local autonomy has its merits, it's also why a teacher, a paramedic, or a young family working two jobs still can't afford to buy in Harford, Howard, Anne Arundel, or Baltimore County without a small miracle or a large inheritance.
Texas Senate Bill 785 doesn't force any city to love manufactured housing. It just says you can't ban it outright anymore. Cities with populations over a certain threshold must allow these homes somewhere in their jurisdiction. The law passed because lawmakers finally admitted that stick-built single-family homes aren't cutting it for millions of Texans, and factory-built housing—when done well—offers quality construction at a fraction of the cost.
But here's the rub. Realtor.com's deep dive shows that some Texas cities are responding by zoning manufactured homes into industrial corridors, requiring minimum lot sizes of an acre or more, or demanding brick facades and pitched roofs that negate the cost savings. Legal? Yes. In the spirit of the law? Barely.
One Texas advocate quoted in the story called it "malicious compliance." I'd call it what happens when state legislators write a law without enough teeth and local officials protect property values over people.
We don't have an SB 785. We have a Missing Middle housing fight that's stalled out in most jurisdictions, a handful of counties experimenting with ADU ordinances, and a whole lot of public hearings where homeowners show up to oppose anything denser than a quarter-acre McMansion.
I've sat through more than a few of those meetings. The same words come up every time: "character of the neighborhood," "traffic," "schools," "property values." All real concerns. But the unspoken subtext is often this: we don't want those people here. And "those people" might be your kid who just graduated from Towson, or the nurse at your local ER, or the guy who fixes your HVAC in July.
Manufactured homes aren't a magic bullet. But they're also not 1980s single-wides rusting in a field. Modern manufactured housing can meet the same HUD construction standards as site-built homes, qualify for conventional financing, and appreciate over time when placed on owned land. Yet try to zone for them in most Maryland suburbs and you'll meet a wall of opposition that would make a medieval fortress jealous.
Let's pull some numbers. Freddie Mac's latest survey put the 30-year fixed mortgage rate at 6.66% as of August 27, 2026. That's not a typo. It's also not apocalyptic—rates were higher than that for stretches of the early 2000s—but it does mean that a median-priced home in Howard County or Montgomery County now requires a household income north of $150,000 to qualify comfortably under traditional debt-to-income guidelines.
A manufactured home on a permanent foundation? Depending on size and finishes, you might be looking at $80,000 to $180,000 for the structure itself, plus land. Even if land costs $100,000 (and that's optimistic in many Maryland markets), you're still well below the $450,000 median sale price we're seeing in places like Harford or Anne Arundel. That difference is the down payment, the monthly mortgage, the property tax bill, and whether a family stays in Maryland or leaves for North Carolina.
But if your county won't zone for it, none of that math matters.
You're stuck playing the same inventory game as everyone else. New listings hit a four-month high recently, which is good news, but it hasn't translated into lower prices—just slightly more options. Affordable alternatives like manufactured housing, tiny homes, or even well-designed duplexes remain effectively illegal in most residential zones.
Your best move right now is to focus on what is allowed: older homes that need cosmetic work, townhouses in emerging neighborhoods, or properties just outside your ideal school district. I know that's not inspiring. But until zoning changes, those are the doors that are actually open.
The Texas story is a reminder that scarcity drives your price. As long as Maryland keeps supply constrained through zoning, your home's value benefits. But there's a moral and a practical question buried in that. Morally, do we want a housing market that works only for people who already own? Practically, when your own kids can't afford to live near you, the "character of the neighborhood" starts to feel pretty hollow.
I'm not saying you should list for less. I'm saying the conversation around what gets built in your county affects whether the next generation stays or leaves.
One of the other legal stories making waves this week has nothing to do with zoning and everything to do with what happens after you buy. HousingWire published an analysis warning that proposals to strip out "curative title work"—the behind-the-scenes legal cleanup that happens before you close—could expose buyers to more than $600 billion in annual risk, spiking above $1 trillion in peak years.
Curative work is the stuff most buyers never see: clearing decades-old liens, fixing clerical errors in deed records, resolving estate issues from a seller's great-aunt who died intestate in 1987. If that work disappears in the name of "affordability" or "streamlining closings," your title insurance might cover the loss—but only after months of litigation and stress.
The proposal isn't law. It's not even a bill yet. But it's the kind of idea that sounds good in a think tank ("Let's cut closing costs!") and falls apart the first time someone discovers their "free and clear" property actually has a $90,000 mechanics lien from 2019.
This is general information, not legal advice—for your specific situation, please consult a licensed real estate attorney.
If you care about housing affordability in Maryland, here's what moves the needle:
Show up. Planning and zoning meetings are boring, long, and dominated by the same twelve voices every time. Be a different voice. Tell your county council or your city mayor that you want more housing types legal in more places.
Vote local. County executives and council members control zoning. Governor and General Assembly races get all the oxygen, but your county council has more direct influence over whether your nephew can afford a home in Bel Air or Ellicott City.
Support good projects. When a developer proposes townhomes or a small apartment building in a walkable area near transit or jobs, and the project meets reasonable design standards, say so. Publicly. The opponents will show up. Supporters usually don't.
Understand the trade-offs. More housing types mean more density. More density means different neighborhoods. Different isn't automatically bad, but it is different, and pretending otherwise kills the conversation before it starts.
Texas passed a law that tries to make affordable housing legal again, and even there, local officials are doing everything they can to water it down. Maryland hasn't even passed the law.
I spent twenty years in education and leadership before I ever showed a house. I know how to teach, and I know when a system is failing the people it's supposed to serve. Our housing system—the zoning codes, the approval processes, the unspoken rules about who gets to live where—is failing a generation of Marylanders who work hard, pay taxes, and just want a place to call home.
Manufactured homes aren't the whole answer. Neither are ADUs, or missing middle duplexes, or any single policy fix. But they're part of the answer, and right now we're not even allowing the question.
If you're trying to buy or sell in Harford, Cecil, Baltimore, Howard, Anne Arundel, Montgomery, or any of the other counties I serve, I'll help you navigate the market as it exists today. I'll also keep writing about the market we should have, because silence doesn't build houses.
You can see what's actually available right now here, or reach out anytime here. And if you've got thoughts on zoning, affordability, or whether Maryland should follow Texas's lead—even a flawed version of it—I'd genuinely like to hear them.
We teach what we know. Right now, the lesson is that affordability doesn't happen by accident, and it definitely doesn't happen when we keep the door locked.
Katrina Kirton Sherrod, REALTOR® · Samson Properties · Licensed in MD, DC, PA & DE · 443-616-9770 · Katrina@kkstherealtor.com
“Real estate cannot be lost or stolen, nor can it be carried away. It is about the safest investment in the world.” — Franklin D. Roosevelt (paraphrased)