We were sitting at our fellowship dinner the other night and one of the elders of the group said “you know on your deed you’re listed as a tenant, not an owner, right?” We all sat with that for a moment in silence. One of the men sitting at the table said, “well, that really makes me mad.” We all concurred. The ages at our table range from newborn to men and women into their seventies. Yet all of us felt like the weight of something had completely rested on us for the very first time. Maybe, for a time such as this.

It’s possible it’s because times are not as they used to be. Maybe it’s because of the whole agenda 2030 where we’ve heard, “you will own nothing and you will be happy.” Yet here we are, barely owning anything, thinking we own a lot. We already live in agenda 2030. Because the reality is this—if you don’t pay your property taxes, then your property will be taken from you.

It prompted me to really think about this. As the founder of Homesteaders of America, I felt like I should understand this better. So I began diving into history, when taxes actually came about in our nation, and curiosity of where, and when, was there a true push back? Why not now?

Here’s a question worth sitting with. You save for years, you pay off the mortgage, the deed comes back with your name on it (as tenant, nonetheless)—and then the tax bill still shows up every single year. Miss enough of them, and the county can put your land up for sale. So which is it: do you own your homestead/house/land, or are you renting it from the government?

For a lot of us, that question has quietly moved from a late-night grumble to something we’re watching play out in real legislation. As of 2026, around eighteen states are actively weighing ways to cut back or even eliminate property taxes. Before we get into that fight, though, it’s worth understanding how these taxes actually work, how we got here, and what history has to say about it—because the story is older and stranger than most people realize.

How Property Taxes Actually Work

Let’s start with our property taxes work, because I find more and more often that the generations of America lack knowledge in these things (especially the ones younger than me). Many just pay the bill and don’t think anything more of it. That’s probably what got us here to begin with.

Your property tax bill isn’t one tax. It’s a stack of separate charges from different local authorities, all bundled onto one statement. The basic math looks like this:

(your property’s assessed value − your exemptions) × the tax rate = your bill

The assessed value is what the county says your property is worth (often not the same as what it would sell for). Exemptions—like a homestead exemption (which we’ll get to in a second)—carve out a chunk of that value before the tax is figured. Then a rate, usually expressed in “mills,” gets applied to what’s left.

The governing authorities pulling from that stack typically include your county, your city or town, special districts (fire, water management, libraries, mosquito control), and—usually the biggest slice—your school district. That last one matters for everything happening right now, because most reform plans split the bill into two buckets: school taxes and everything else (“non-school”). School levies often make up 35 to 40 percent of a typical bill, and they’re the hardest to touch politically.

Where does it all go? Property taxes fund roughly 70 percent of local government revenue and around 90 percent of school funding nationwide. That’s the crux of the whole debate: this money pays for the fire truck, the sheriff, the road grader, and the schoolhouse. Which is exactly why cutting it is easy to promise and hard to do.

Massive Changes Since 2020

If it feels like your bill has gotten heavier since 2020, you’re not imagining it. Home values have risen about 27 percent faster than inflation since 2020. The average U.S. home sale price jumped from roughly $371,000 to about $525,000 in just a few years.

A few years ago the county over from ours slightly lessened the tax percentage but the increase in home value skyrocketed by over 50%, causing people to actually pay more in the long run. There was a bit of commotion, but then it died down. Which made me wonder—how high do taxes really have to go before entire communities start throwing tea in the harbor? Or in property tax verbiage, “until farmers rise up and take a stand”. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.

Even when a county leaves its tax rate alone, rising assessed values quietly push everyone’s bill up. Your homestead didn’t change—you’ve still got the same barn, the same fence line—but on paper it’s “worth” far more, so you owe far more. Unlike sales tax, which you pay in small bites you barely notice, the property tax lands once a year as a big lump sum. That visibility is a big part of why frustration has boiled over into an organized revolt.

American Tax History & How We Got Here

To understand why this touches a nerve for landowners and farmers specifically, you have to know where the tax came from—and, more importantly, when it grew into the thing we wrestle with today. Because it didn’t start out this way.

The property tax didn’t begin on the American frontier. It traces back to feudal Europe, where a person didn’t truly own land so much as hold it from a king or a lord in exchange for obligations and payments. That arrangement is the direct ancestor of the modern property tax, and it’s exactly the instinct behind the “I’m just renting from the government” feeling. The grievance is old.

Here are some interesting facts about feudal Europe:

The terms feudalism and feudal system were generally applied to the early and central Middle Ages—the period from the 5th century, when central political authority in the Western empire disappeared, to the 12th century, when kingdoms began to emerge as effective centralized units of government. 

In the 19th century, influenced by Adam Smith and other Scottish thinkers, Karl Marx (1818–83) and Friedrich Engels (1820–95) made “the feudal mode of production” one stage in their visionary reading of Western historical development; the feudal model followed “the ancient mode of production” and preceded capitalism, socialism, and communism. Marx and Engels rejected the traditional understanding of feudalism as consisting of fiefs and relations among the elite and emphasized the lords’ exploitation of the peasants as the essence of the feudal mode of production.

Their followers came to view the feudal stage as a necessary prerequisite for the emergence of socialism, and socialist scholars and activists sought traces of it throughout the world.

Taken from Feudalism History | Britannica

Funny how that works—and I am no supporter of communism. At all.

Let’s go back to baby America.

The colonists brought property taxation with them, but in the early days it was a modest patchwork—so much per acre of land here, a tax on certain livestock there, a poll tax on top. During the Revolution rates jumped several-fold, and settlers far from town bristled at being taxed by the acre when their land was worth little. Consider this: as late as 1796, only four of the fifteen states taxed the bulk of property by its value, and no state constitution required it. A heavy direct tax on land and home was treated as an emergency measure, not a permanent way of life.

In 1798, bracing for war with France, Congress passed the nation’s first federal property tax, aiming to raise $2 million from land, houses, and other “property”. Houses were taxed on a rising scale from about 0.2 up to 1 percent of value. It was resented enough that farmers in eastern Pennsylvania rose up against the assessors in what’s remembered as the Fries Rebellion.

But when Thomas Jefferson’s party took power in 1800, one of the very first things they did was repeal it, along with the other internal taxes. Washington reached for a direct property tax only a few more times—the War of 1812, the Civil War—always temporary, always wartime, then set the tool down for good.

The real turning point: the 1800s “general property tax.” Here is where America slipped into something far bigger, and it’s the part almost no one knows. Starting with Illinois in 1818, then Missouri in 1820 and Tennessee in 1834, states began writing “uniformity clauses” into their constitutions—rules requiring that all property be taxed equally, according to its value. This was the birth of ad valorem taxation as we know it, and it spread like wildfire. By the end of the 19th century, thirty-three states had baked uniformity into their constitutions, and virtually every state was levying what came to be called a “general property tax.”

And “general” meant general. This was no longer a modest tax on your acreage. It reached all wealth—real and personal, tangible and intangible. Your land, your buildings, your livestock and machinery, and even stocks, bonds, and promissory notes. Every year, assessed by value, on nearly everything a family owned. It was popular at first with frontier settlers who liked the idea of everyone paying according to their means, but it became a nightmare to administer, riddled with evasion and uneven assessments.

By 1905 a leading tax scholar called it one of the worst taxes a civilized nation had ever used. And by 1902, states were pulling nearly half of all their revenue from it. That is the century in which the property tax stopped being an occasional, modest thing and became the sprawling annual levy we’d recognize today.

After 1900, states discovered better-behaved revenue in the new income, sales, and fuel taxes, loosened many of their old uniformity rules, and largely got out of the property-tax business themselves—passing it down to counties, cities, and school districts. That’s how the property tax became what it now is: not a federal or even a mainly state tax, but the permanent workhorse of local government.

The last piece of history is the mechanism that makes today feel so outrageous. Because the tax is tied to market value, when home prices surge, your bill surges right along with them—even if not one official ever votes to raise a rate. That’s what detonated the famous taxpayer revolt of the 1970s: in 1978, California homeowners watching their assessments balloon passed Proposition 13, rolling values back, capping how fast they could rise, and setting off a wave of copycat limits across the country.

The very same dynamic is fueling the revolt we’re living through right now, with home values up more than a quarter faster than inflation since 2020.

The rates themselves aren’t the shocking part; that 1798 levy topped out near 1 percent, and plenty of us pay in that neighborhood today (homeowners in New Jersey and Illinois pay well over 2 percent). What changed is the nature of the thing. At the founding, a direct tax on your land was rare, temporary, and controversial enough to march against. Across the 1800s it hardened into an annual, permanent, universal tax on the assessed value of almost everything you owned—and then it got wired to a housing market that hasn’t stopped climbing. That is the whole road: from a wartime emergency the founders repealed at the first chance, to a bill that shows up faithfully every year for the rest of your life.

The States Leading the Revolt

Frustration has turned into action across the country in modern day America. I was surprised when I began researching this topic, that there were many different states beginning to have this conversation. Most notably, Florida, making the biggest waves in headlines. But, I was surprised to see that even that legislature that was trying to pass wasn’t completely removing property taxes (though that’s a thought you’ll see later in this article).

Ultimately, contributing to society isn’t an awful thing. But why should it be connected to your land and property to collect upon if you default? That, to me, screams dirty.

Here’s the landscape, sorted by how far each state is willing to go:

States Aiming for full elimination:

• Florida — a major homestead-exemption expansion is on the November 2026 ballot; a separate citizen drive aims to abolish all property taxes by 2028 (more below).
• Indiana — HB 1288 would end property taxes by 2027 and replace the revenue by taxing most services. It’s the rare plan that actually names its funding source.
• Ohio — a grassroots group is gathering signatures to abolish property taxes outright, while lawmakers have passed narrower caps.
• Texas — Gov. Abbott wants to use state surpluses to buy down and eventually end school property taxes; one legislator has pushed to end them entirely by 2031, calling perpetual property taxes incompatible with private property rights.
• Nebraska — the bold “EPIC” plan (swap property, income, and inheritance taxes for a consumption tax) stalled for 2026 and is regrouping for 2028.
• Pennsylvania, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Dakota — all have active elimination or deep-cut efforts in various stages.

On a 2026 ballot, but narrower: Tennessee (barring a state-level property tax), Wyoming (a primary-residence exemption), and Montana (tight caps on how fast valuations can rise).

Major relief rather than elimination: Georgia, Kansas, and Illinois are pursuing assessment caps and offsets, with a longer list—Colorado, Connecticut, Iowa, Maryland, New Hampshire, New Jersey, and North Carolina—stirring behind them.

Florida has a 2026 ballot measure to exempt tangible personal property used for agriculture and agritourism, and Georgia has one to expand its ag-and-timber conservation-use classification. Those are the pieces most likely to touch a working homestead directly.

A Deeper Look at Florida

Florida is the clearest test case, so it’s worth breaking down what’s actually on the table there—because the headlines blur two very different things.

What’s on the November 2026 ballot (HJR 1F):

• Raises the homestead exemption on non-school taxes from $50,000 today to $150,000 in 2027, then $250,000 in 2028, adjusted for inflation after that.
• At $250,000, roughly 60 percent of homesteaded owners would owe zero non-school property tax.
• Tightens the assessment cap on other property (from 10 percent to 5 percent a year) and limits what local governments can spend the remaining revenue on.
• Needs 60 percent voter approval to pass. Nothing changes until voters say so.

If you live in Florida, it’s so important to understand this!

It leaves school taxes fully in place (the 40 percent of the bill), so “zero property tax” is never the whole bill. It applies only to your primary homestead—not vacation homes, rentals, commercial buildings, or raw land. And newcomers to Florida wait five years for the full benefit.

A state representative is running a citizen petition to put full elimination of all property taxes — homes, land, commercial, even the school portion—on the 2028 ballot, arguing Florida should be the first state where people “own their property rather than rent it from the government.” It’s not on any ballot yet and faces a steep signature bar, but it’s the purest version of the revolt and ownership argument we’ve been talking about.

Can the Federal Government Eliminate Property Taxes?

I was surprised, and yet not, to see that the Federal government cannot abolish your property tax. Property tax is a state and local matter, by design. The federal government apparently has no authority over your county’s tax rolls, and no U.S. state has fully eliminated property taxes yet. Which makes sense, since the states have their own laws.

What the federal government can do is nudge:

• A president can champion the idea and pressure states, and figures in Washington have floated things like exempting seniors—but there’s no federal lever to actually do it. Analysts note these ideas carry enormous price tags and no clear funding path.
• The 2025 federal tax law raised the cap on deducting state and local taxes (SALT) to around $40,000 through 2029. That lets some homeowners deduct more of what they already pay—but it doesn’t lower your local bill by a single dollar.
• There’s a federal push to cut or kill the capital gains tax on home sales. Worth watching, but don’t let anyone confuse it with property tax—it’s a different thing entirely.

This fight lives in the statehouses and on state ballots. That’s where your voice actually carries weight. This is why small government is necessary.

So—Do You Own It?

Back to where we started. There’s a reason this question stirs something in those of us who work the land. We’re not chasing a loophole or a tax dodge. We’re after something deeper: the biblical, agrarian ideal of a family rooted to a place, stewarding it across generations, secure in the knowledge that what they’ve built is truly theirs (and the generations after them). A tax you must pay forever, or forfeit the ground under your feet, sits uneasily against that ideal. That unease is legitimate, and it’s finally starting to make some waves. I believe it is widely in part to Americans turning back to the land, building generational wealth, and realizing that the government may have schemed their parents and grandparents (and great-grandparents) out of so much when it comes to taxes and property.

The government has always been in the business of taking land. Right here in Virginia, not long ago, they ran homesteaders off of their land to create what is now the Shenandoah National Park. But that’s another topic for another day.

None of this means refusing to pay what you owe today—that’s a fast way to lose the very land you’re trying to protect. But it does mean paying attention and getting involved. Learn how your own state assesses and taxes your property. Watch what’s moving in your legislature. Show up when it lands on a ballot. Bring it up at your town, city, and state meetings.

Let this fuel you to be more involved, to confront injustice, and to fight for property rights.

The revolt now underway will be won or lost not just by the loudest voices online, but by ordinary landowners who understand the issue well enough to vote it wisely. And who show up.

Long story-short—you own your land, until you don’t pay your taxes.

We’ll keep tracking these bills, state by state, in our monthly Freedom Watch blog posts—because the question of whether you truly own your land is one worth watching all the way through.

---

Sources & further reading: Tax Foundation (property tax relief and reform, 2026); Ballotpedia (property tax ballot measures); Tax Notes and the EH.net Encyclopedia (history of property taxation and the 1798 Direct Tax / Fries Rebellion); and official Florida Legislature materials on HJR 1F. This article is for education and encouragement, not legal or tax advice—always confirm the specifics with your county property appraiser or a qualified professional.

Photo 2 & 3 taken by Molly M. Peterson