The idea behind this presentations was to start framing the conversation around gentrification differently, and start this thinking at the inception of the planning process. How do we create a more just and equitable living environment? How do we design with intention? How do we ensure that everyone gets to enjoy the benefit of increased prosperity in a given area? I co-paneled with Peter Taitan of the Urban Institute, who provided stats about historical changes in the DC population – and had the fun job of explaining the concept of “white flight” after looking at the dramatic fall in DC’s white population from 1960-1980.

The coolest part were the countries represented: Bhutan, Cambodia, Egypt, Finland, India, Lesotho, Macedonia, Mexico, Mongolia, Montenegro, New Zealand, Slovak Republic, Sweden, Trinadad and Tobago, Turkey, and Vietnam.

The questions were insightful and fascinating, as all of the attendees tried to understand how American governments allowed gentrification and displacement to happen. There was also a conversation (though all too short) on gentrification’s unintended consequences, since it has a very positive connotation in some fields. I learned that Egypt is staring down the barrel of a housing crisis that mirrors issues with long-time residents and property taxes, and that DC could probably learn a lot from India’s ideas on making the law match social will. I also learned that America’s regionalism is really puzzling to other nations – I never had to think through things like WHY every state and local government has different policies around housing and urban development and quite a few of the questions (like what are the national needs around housing) had me stumped. So all in all, an excellent conversation.

One thing I wish I had time to go into more was the Kirwan Institute’s discussion on opportunity mapping. The paper/presentation looks at neighborhoods as more than just residential or commercial use, and into the idea that neighborhoods are clusters of opportunity. I’ll try to do a full write up on this next week, as I’ve alluded to the report a few times over the past year, but never committed to a full write up.

Strongly Recommended Reading: The Kirwan Institute’s Paper on “Opportunity Mapping: Mapping the Geography of Opportunity for Public Interest Advocacy”

Selected Conversations on Gentrification:

On The Rapid Gentrification of DC
The Gentrification Shuffle
The Gentrification Shuffle, Redux: Rebranding Anacostia
Gentrification has Nothing to Do with White Hipsters
More Notes on Gentrification
Another Perspective on Gentrification
I Colonize

And our full archive on gentrification is here.

It’s hard to navigate New York City with someone who lived his whole life there, without them mentioning “gentrification” at least once.

Lucky me, I didn’t get it once. I got it at least once… a day.

While my time in Cleveland as a kid was spent in areas that could’ve seriously benefit from the privilege that the gentry (those who do the gentrifying) brings with it, my home in Indiana? Let’s just say that it’s highly unlikely that it’d ever need more money to come in. Needless to say, my experiences with gentrification are pretty non-existent.

But what is gentrification? It is, in a nutshell, when money (or perceived money, which is more important than the actual money, to me) moves in. I used to assume that it was about race, much like this guy:

“I used to think it was about race — when white people moved into a black neighborhood,” said lawyer Charles Wilson, 35, who lost to Marion Barry in the 2008 Ward 8 D.C. Council race. “Then, I looked up the word. It’s when a middle-class person moves into a poor neighborhood. And I realized: I am a gentrifier. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t like that word. It makes so many people uncomfortable.”

“Actually, I thought it was if you see a white guy in Anacostia, listening to an iPod, jogging or walking a dog!” joked Sariane Leigh, 33, who writes a blog called Anacostia Yogi, putting her hand on her hip and waving a sweet-potato fry for emphasis.

The friends fold into laughter. They agree not to use the G-word, at least for one night.

Gentrification is always a delicate topic, especially in a city where it usually has meant well-to-do whites buying up affordable houses in predominantly black neighborhoods. The trend is reflected in recent census figures that show that the District is no longer a majority-black city and by ever-whiter neighborhoods such as Shaw and H Street Northeast.

But black gentrification is increasingly redefining the G-word and changing the economics of places like Anacostia. [source]

Why am I bringing this up? After leaving Bar Sepia one night, we passed by one of the mister’s old standard bodegas (basically, a convenient store), but he did a double take… and eventually, a full stop.

“Wow, man,” was all I heard. “Gentrification is real.”

The bodega wasn’t simply a “bodega” anymore. It was, apparently, an organic produce store… with respectable prices. Hell, I can’t even get that.

Like race, money comes with its own assumptions. When money moves into a community, the police presence increases. Why? Because no one wants to bring their money into an environment where it’s bound to be stolen, and everyone knows that. When money moves into an area, businesses are quick to follow (specially if the promise of increased security is looming)… businesses providing services and products that the entrepreneurs believe would be profitable there. I mean, that’s basic capitalism. You go where the money can be found.

This has a strange effect on the availability – and quality – of food in an area. If increased presence of money means increased produce… then increased produce – by nature of trying to one-up their competitors – means increased presence of organics, which means increased presence of local produce… which eventually means decreased price. Competitors are constantly trying to one-up each other, and they do that by decreasing the price of the necessities while offering special and unique products at a premium.

This is a strange situation. Gentrification, that which has been cast off as such a dirty word (and has people, like the above, ashamed to no longer be poverty-status poor?), is actually making food cheaper. I mean, damn – never in my life have I seen an organic red pepper go for $0.99.

But is it always just the money, or was originally right? Is it who (rather, what race) is bringing the money? And furthermore, can the race element be overlooked if other “hipster/urban yuppie-ish” businesses are thriving in the area? (Let’s not play coy, here – as much as I love my yoga, seeing three yoga studios on the same block is the epitome of overkill.) A couple of weeks ago, I received the following comment from Dee, a Chicago reader:

I live in Chicago, which is a very segregated city. I do know that there are some great produce markets with good-quality, cheap produce in many of the predominantly Latin@ communities. I know that the food deserts in the city are all in predominantly African American communities — and that at least in Chicago, food access is correlated to race but not income (food deserts in poor, working class, and middle class communities.) (If you are really curious about food deserts in Chicago, there are good study reports herehttp://www.marigallagher.com/projects/ — I am a teacher and therefore I’m particular about language and citing my sources.)

…which takes you to this .pdf file, dated June 2011, that provides this not-so-awesome statistic for Chicago:

About 70% of the total Food Desert Population is African American. The remaining 30% is roughly an equal split of whites and Latinos.

There’s also a map in that .pdf and, if you know anything about Chicago and its “South Side,” well… let’s just say it’s easy to guess where those food deserts lie.

Now, I’m aware I went from New York City to Chicago in a matter of a few paragraphs, but it all – at least to me – ties into this:

It reminds me of the “bike to work” movement. That is also portrayed as white, but in my city more than half of the people on bike are not white. I was once talking to a white activist who was photographing “bike commuters” and had only pictures of white people with the occasional “black professional” I asked her why she didn’t photograph the delivery people, construction workers etc. … ie. the black and Hispanic and Asian people… and she mumbled something about trying to “improve the image of biking” then admitted that she didn’t really see them as part of the “green movement” since they “probably have no choice” –

I was so mad I wanted to quit working on the project she and I were collaborating on.

So, in the same way when people in a poor neighborhood grow food in their yards … it’s just being poor– but when white people do it they are saving the earth or something.

And YES black people on bikes and with gardens DO have an awareness of the environment. Surprisingly so! These values are in our communities and they are good values. My Grandmother was an organic gardener before it was “cool” –My mother believed in composting all waste and recycling whatever could be reused– it was a religious thing. God hates waste. [source]

Again, the focus on “choice,” something that – as we see often here on BGG2WL – not everyone is afforded. There’s also that class/race-defaulting thing going on here, too – if “poor people” (who are, assumedly, of color – and don’t we all assume poor people are people of color?) are just being poor by growing their own food (’cause, y’know, they can’t afford to pay all that money to eat garbage) and “white people” are assigned the noble position of “saving the Earth” by growing their own food… what are poor white people doing when they grow their own food? I mean, they’re poor, yes… but they’re not default poor, which is Black or “Brown.”

Excerpted from The Unbearable Whiteness of Eating: How The Food Culture War Affects Black America | A Black Girl’s Guide To Weight Loss

And, to me, this also very much ties into the original reason I began writing about food deserts in the first place, and that was a posting on The Root that proclaimed that Blacks have some form of hereditary slave palate that prevents them from even wanting fresh produce and quality meat, should they choose to eat it. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a ridiculous theory, but being ridiculous has never stopped a ton of people from believing it, before. It’s only a bigger deal here because that stereotype is affecting whether or not areas that need the healthier produce actually get them.

The article I quoted above speaks of Anacostia, a DC area said to be rife with “crime and violence, now offers yoga studios and chai lattes.” On that link you’ll find a map of businesses, libraries and hospitals in the Anacostia area, with one little organic grocery claiming to be “the first organic grocery store east of the river.” I can’t help but compare that to the area of Brooklyn I called home for a week or so, and the multiple organic spots we had access to within walking distance.

So, what do I get from all this? While gentrification plays a huge part in where businesses go, the money will have a hard time overshadowing the race if it is assumed that, simply because of your race, you won’t have an interest in what’s being offered. I don’t really know how to combat that.

While gentrification absolutely has its pitfalls – “Not everyone, of course, could stay. As neighborhoods gentrify, buildings are sold, landlords raise rents, and some people are forced out. In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have to wait for the dual bugaboos to arrive before you get a decent grocery store or adequate police patrols.” [source] – and its shortcomings, I’m inclined to presume that one of its most peculiar shortcomings is that even the Black members of The Gentry will struggle with overcoming the stereotypes of being “default poor.”

Photo credits: Nostrand Park; BikePortland.org

[R]ace and class issues often overlap, and as the city’s demographics shift — the white population jumped by 31 percent in the past decade, while the black population declined by 11 percent — many less affluent blacks say they are feeling left out of the city’s improving fortunes. In April, the Census Bureau reported that Ward 8, in the city’s mostly poor and black southeast, had the highest jobless rate in the country.

“Change is good, but it kind of kicks some of us to the back of the bus,” said Shirley Parnell, a Department of Motor Vehicles worker who recently inherited her mother’s house near H Street, which came with $11,000 in back taxes. [...]

The Rev. Cheryl J. Sanders, the pastor at the Third Street Church of God, in the Mount Vernon neighborhood, argues that race is important, particularly in gentrifying neighborhoods like hers. Her plan to raze buildings on church property to make room for more parking was blocked by her local neighborhood council in a vote that was divided evenly along racial lines. Blacks voted in favor of the church, long the social heart of the black community, and whites, concerned with preservation, opposed it. City preservation authorities later struck a compromise.

At stake, Ms. Sanders said, is the face of the nation’s capital and who gets to shape it. That privilege has special meaning here in Washington, whose black-majority government has given jobs to African-Americans and a way into a middle class that they had long been shut out of.

“It’s a question of who has the power to determine what this community is going to look like,” she said. “I want to have a voice in that. I don’t want to be told to ‘sit down and shut up while we cast the vision for the city.’ ”

Sanders hit the nail on the head. The vision of the city is essentially being dictated to longtime residents from outside interests – or, worse, from the folks who have settled here while Obama is in office, and don’t see DC as home. The newer visions for the city are heavily cosmetic and heavily skewed to a younger, moneyed class – which is causing tensions. As we’ve spoken about gentrification many times before (see the links at the bottom of the article) and that tough bridge dividing long time residents and the new development.

It’s easier to like things like new establishments, nicer streets, rising property values and many lifers understand why it’s important to woo a larger tax base. But it’s hard to like changes that just feel straight up exclusionary.

In my neighborhood, the people who live there are a pretty much even mix of blacks, whites, and Latinos. Slightly heavier on the blacks and Latinos, since those are the populations who have historically lived in the area. Recently, the white population started coming here, from both inside and outside of the city, due to revitalization efforts. Now, my neighborhood is considered trendy and is a hot spot for people from other parts of the city.

Some people have argued all of this represents progress – but it’s a little strange that the mini-entertainment district that has opened up caters to white people from other areas of the city than the people in the neighborhood. We often see our neighbors on the street, walking by all these establishments, while the patios on said establishments are predominantly white. I suppose many of the neighborhood folks are all just walking down to the surrounding areas for our entertainment. And it’s odd how things tipped – like many things in DC, the segregation is quiet. It isn’t as if shopkeepers are putting up whites only signs on the doors. It’s just in the early forumlative days of a new place you see the whole neighborhood giving it a try, but somehow, the main clienteles always segregate in the end. Boyfriend often jokes that if he wants to go to one of the bars up the street, and be treated like other patrons, he has to wear his work clothes, not his casual ones. But its odd to walk past these establishments each and every day and not feel like there’s a great new thing in the neighborhood, but rather, it’s a signal of the type of city that others want to see.

U street is a beautiful kind of case study on this, and I wish I had done that photo project I said I would do three years back. Three years ago, U street was bearing the fruits of its revitalization projects. The place was always popping, and there were a lot of different scenes clustered in the same place. I noticed then, the bars my white friends invited me to (Axis, Stetsons) were not the same as the places I went to hang out (Jin, Tabaq, Creme, Mocha Hut), but there were still places that prompted crossover (Busboys, Marvin) so the demographics on U – and further up and down, were still fairly mixed.

Now, U Street reminds me a lot of Georgetown. It’s changed from being the casual hangout space it once was – most places now desire reservations. The coffee shop politics are interesting – the Starbucks is a hangout space for all, but heavily skews black. The Mocha Hut was sold, and the demographics changed once it became The U Street Cafe. There was a failed coffee shop on 14th and U, taking a page from Tryst’s worn sofas and armchairs, which was popular among whites for a while – could never figure out what appealed about that coffee shop versus Mocha Hut. A lot of the spoken word nights have gone, though Busboys still does theirs – at a higher price, and far more popular than it used to be. And there are more and more establishments that attract white people, so the streets look different. Outside of Patty Boom Boom (and perhaps Masa 14) many of the new establishments have settled into predominantly white clienteles, while African American patrons have gone much further up U street to 9th to eke out space. The burgeoning Ethiopian population – once growing into a powerful political force – has again receded, moving further and further into the suburbs. Ben’s Chilli Bowl, another mixed race hangout spot, opened Ben’s Next Door – and immediately reshuffled into a new black hangout. One of these days, I’ll try to document this in real time – but for now, it’s just a strange part of this ever evolving puzzle.

You can even see some of this tension on Yelp. What kind of experience does one expect at a carryout?

The trouble with gentrification is that we are carving out enclaves for ourselves instead of truly integrating. It isn’t about building a community – it’s a turf war, with much higher stakes.

When I walk down Mt. Pleasant Street, I love what I see there. Family owned bakeries, tiny Korean restaurants, long time community spot Haydee’s with their stubborn insistence on live music, the temporary library, street vendors selling chilled fruit, the always packed and popping 7-11 – that whole area just looks like DC. It’s a mix of people and cultures, new and old, multi-lingual, and multi-cultural. Those of us who like seeing that don’t want it to change too much. But already, small changes have happened.

Nana, a boutique I liked on U street, moved to Mount Pleasant Street, probably in search of the lower rent that comes with a non marquee area. And next door to Nana, a chill cafe called Flying Fish has opened where a multiracial group of young digital kids go to get work done. I love both these places – but does their coming signal an end to the way of life that I’ve come to love? It isn’t the fault specifically of small businesses like Flying Fish and Nana, who are just looking to survive in a city whose rents are spiraling out of control, both business and residential. I don’t think the owners of these shops moved to Mt. Pleasant to deliberately change the fabric of the neighborhood. In fact, they probably came for the same reasons I did: slightly cheaper cost of living, diverse area, walkability, convenience. And yet, this is one of the costs of gentrification, to feel like every new first is symbolic of the beginning of the end. So far, most of the businesses on Mt. Pleasant street have managed to cater to most of the neighborhood. I keep wondering if that will stay – or if one day, the change will happen – and it will all start rolling out of control again.

Over the weekend, Boyfriend wanted to go out and walk around the changing waterfront. A new tennis stadium has opened up and he wanted to look at the changes to the Arena stage. We decided to start with dinner at the Wharf, a vestige of old DC. When we pulled in, the lot was packed full of black and brown people starting their Friday night with shrimp, crabs, and chicken. I stood there, looking at the appealing seafood set against a grimy backdrop. A few women waiting in line started bouncing to the go-go tune playing from the fishmonger’s stand. The area was busy, crammed full the way Market Lunch is on Saturday and Sunday. But everyone was polite in that genteel kinda way, comfortable with each other and where we were.

“This feels like old DC,” I said to my Boyfriend.

We paid for the crabs and sat by the predominantly white Yacht Club (roughly 15 yards from where we bought our food) and settled in on the public benches, looking out over the water. The folks on the porch politely leaned over to warn us they were going to fire their canon, as they traditionally do every Friday at Sunset. We warned the other people on the path to cover their ears. The canon exploded into the night. Couples and families of all races strolled by, some on their way to Phillips, some just taking a walk, others seeking benches like ours.

Everything was calm. Everything was easy.

We can all coexist together.

But question that arises with gentrification is a simple, yet painful one: Do we all want to be together?

Earlier:

The Gentrification Shuffle
The Gentrification Shuffle, Redux: Rebranding Anacostia
Gentrification has Nothing to Do with White Hipsters
More Notes on Gentrification
Another Perspective on Gentrification
I Colonize

HBO’s Treme is growing into an intricate and well-written show! While it lacks the political pizazz of The Wire, it makes up for it by giving us characters we instantly care about — or at least I care about. I think it might yet be a great drama, despite my reservations!

But I have one problem: Davis McAlary (played by Steve Zahn). I hate this guy. I realized why this week.

GET THOSE GENTRIFYING GAYS!

First, let me recount a situation from the last episode, which made me realize my feelings.

Davis has been blasting music from his apartment window into his neighbors’ house, mostly jazz and hip hop. This week, the gay yuppie neighbors confront him about it. “Why are you being so nasty about this? You have a problem with gay people?” Davis says no, he loves gays (see, we’re supposed to like Davis). Why does Davis hate the guppies? It’s a really original argument**: “You moved into the Treme. You tear the place up. You put in your birdcage, your flower gardens and you don’ t have a fucking clue as to where the fuck you are living.”

See, the gays are sill gentrifiers who want to “historically preserve” homes but don’t know anything about the neighborhood whose property rates their raising! “It’s called gentrification. This is the Treme dude! The most musically important black neighborhood in America,” says Davis, as he starts listing artists that lived in the block. He asks the gays: “did you know that?”

“I know all about the Treme,” older gay insists. Wait, is this a different breed of gentrifying gay?

But Davis keeps on listing artists. Finally the gay person rattles off the name of a jazz great too. See, the guppies grew up in New Orleans. “We’re as much New Orleans as you are.” Nuance?

Caught off guard, Davis goes on to accuse the gays of complaining to the cops about his stereo and other music in the ‘hood being too loud.

The gays says they’re innocent: “We have never once called the cops,” the older gay says, believably — and inexplicably — I think.

Davis goes on, he doesn’t believe them. “You live in the Treme. Gotta deal with that shit.”

DAVIS IS A SELF-RIGHTEOUS OAF

Several things in this scene make it clear to me that Davis is not a guy I like. First, Davis can’t find room in his head to see if someone else might actually know something about the “real” Treme — only he knows the artists, the locations. To Davis, the world is clear: there are evil white gentrifiers who call the police on you and know nothing about “authentic” music and there is everyone else (note how his critique isn’t a broader one; it’s cultural). Yet look at it from the gays perspective. Now, far be it for me to defend gentrifying gays; I won’t. But look. They just moved into the neighborhood; they clearly know and love the culture. They even tolerate their obnoxious neighbor who, instead of asking them if they want to hang out, blasts loud music into their home for hours on end. Think about it. Davis has been doing this for days, maybe weeks, and the guppies said nothing and didn’t even call the cops (I’d have called on day 2). When they confront him, they’re told to “deal with it,” instead of, say, getting invited to be friends, to meet people in the neighborhood, and learn more about the culture. Davis is an asshole.

Does David Simon want us to hate Davis? I actually don’t think so. We’re supposed to like Davis. He’s best friends with black people. He says things like “I want my city back” after telling the National Guard to go back to Fallujah (I never said I disagreed with his politics). He knows all about the music of the Treme, the heart of the show. Sure, he eerily fawns over the stripper that moves into the neighborhood and is generally unreliable as lover/boyfriend to Janette. But he’s a lovable oaf; he means well.

I don’t know if he means well. To me, Davis is self-important and self-righteous, so wrapped up in his own perception of authenticity — of community, music, politics — that he can’t let people in. He hasn’t let me in. I find him grating. He’s like those people who dismiss Lady Gaga as Britney Spears 2.0 because she’s popular. He’s the kind of person who’d call you ignorant for liking, say, Louis Armstrong because that clearly means you know nothing about jazz.

AUTHENTICITY SOOTHES, BUT BORES

I’m not the first critic to point out Davis’ love of authenticity. It’s obvious. Davis points to a larger issue: how long will Treme coast on its love affair with portraying an “authentic” community and the authentic Treme?

In Treme, everybody knows everybody’s name, which I suppose is believable enough. The professors are liberal and speak as if quoting Harper’s from memory. The local lawyer always works pro bono and carries around at least two briefcases at a time, almost always — seriously, doesn’t Melissa Leo have a car she can leave some files in?! Tourists are mindless (of course, they usually are).

Then of course, there is the music. Out of all of the arts, music is perhaps the most susceptible to authenticity’s love spell. The art world got off that boat around 1950 with the death of painting. Even the most indie filmmakers are well aware their “lo-fi” aesthetics are less authentic than a fabrication necessitated by lack of funds.

But music — especially those with counterculture legacies: rock, rap and jazz — is very resistant. This isn’t always a bad thing. Authenticity in music has, for example, made it much easier for gay singers to come out than Hollywood actors. On Treme, listening to what I presume is authentic music is a generally pleasurable experience. I’m not a music aficionado, of any genre (that’s why this blog is called Televisual!), but I’m still having fun, though I’m not sure how much I’m learning.

In long run, though, authenticity bores more than it excites. For those within its boundaries — because authenticity is always about exclusion — its very soothing. For the rest of us, well, it’s just a parade.

Some might say I’m being hard on Treme. It’s only been three episodes of what is supposed to be a slowly developing story. Truth. In a few weeks, all my concerns might be allayed. The Wire, though, is the elephant in the room. On The Wire, authenticity was largely unnecessary. We knew “the system” was the problem, but the characters were still complex: they were flawed, self-evidently so. They had no claims to righteousness, and if they tried, they were soon shown otherwise. That’s the stuff of good drama.

On Treme, Davis is the leader of the authenticity parade. He’s so invested in policing it, it’s gotten him fired from two jobs and has now inflicted his harangue on what seem like friendly and well-seeming, if yuppish, neighbors. Right now, Davis’ parade is lush and involving, showcasing an intriguing cast of performers struggling through adversity and oppression, but how much longer before it gets dull?

**Can we please start acknowledging that, yes, gays gentrify, but so do black people, straight people, young people, old people, and that this is actually a complex process involving multiple effects of capitalism and not just ignorant people looking to destroy communities? The scary gentrifying white gays, which I last saw in the fabulous film Quincenera, are becoming a little boring.

“Gentrification is coming,” says Morgan, “and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

What’s the difference between East of the River and River East?  According to a March 3rd article in the Washington City Paper, it depends on who you are.

Anacostia is located in South East, DC, made notorious for high levels of crime in violence in the 1990s. The area, currently 92% black and one of the most impoverished areas in DC, is often referred to by its residents as “East of the River.” This stands in contrast to the area of North West referred to as “West of the Park,” which holds a high concentration of wealth. Longtime residents often use those two descriptors to explain the flow of class and politics around DC. Those East of the River tend to get the short end of the stick, with horrible support from the city government. Those West of the Park receive all the benefits privilege can afford.

So, when new residents began to flock to the promise of cheap housing and convenient access to downtown Washington, they decided that the old image of Anacostia was ultimately detrimental to the neighborhood:

[T]here’s a constituency of folks who don’t like what “east of the river” connotes, and they’ve created an organization in part to address the matter. Members of “River East Emerging Leaders”—note the lower-case, hipoisie-appeasing acronym “r.e.e.l.”—have a new name for the place they call home. For these people, it’s “River East.” The rationale for the appellation comes straight from r.e.e.l.’s Web site: “Many committee members recalled conversations with friends or news stories characterizing ‘East of the River’ as dirty, dangerous, crime-ridden and poor. ‘River East’ was a new way to rebrand the area and inspire a sense of pride.”

Older residents fear that being “rebranded” is a way to remove them from the neighborhood. And their fears are well founded – often, projects to improve older neighborhoods tend to displace the lifelong residents there, in favor of wealthier entrants. And those who have stood with the neighborhood throughout the tumultuous history of DC find themselves pushed out, often to the increasingly abandoned suburbs and exburbs, or forced to live with the few relatives who managed to maintain their housing. And one resident quoted in the City Paper explains that the name serves a very distinct purpose:

Barbara Dewey, who was born and raised in Ward 8’s Barry Farm, says, “By trying to change the name, everything that happened years and years ago will be forgotten, it will start anew. Why? We don’t want to lose the history of Anacostia.”

Using the terms “East of the River” and “West of the Park” have become a form of social commentary, with each utterance calling attention to the disparities present in the capitol city of the United States. These geographic boundaries are also demographic boundaries and they symbolize the long legacy of segregation and neglect in DC. However, those trying to lend a new type of cache to South East believe the renaming will attract more new residents and eventually turn into the neighborhood they desire.

“We need diversity,” says LaShaun Smith, author of the blog Southeast Socialite. She was born in Southeast, grew up in Prince George’s County, and moved back to the District in 2007. “It’s nothing wrong with it being a predominantly black neighborhood, but we need other people to come in.” If those people take root, she says, so will new businesses. “We could keep it the same, but the whole city is going through this change,” she says.

And for Smith, the change would optimally involve some ordnance detonated on iconic Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue. “I would love a bomb to come through and just blow the whole street up, because it looks terrible,” she says. “It looks awful. The whole street, and just rebuild anew. The whole street looks terrible.”

LaShaun Smith is African-American. While a lot of gentrification stories in Washington DC fall along color lines, the story of Wards 7 and 8 are ones of class and expectations. While Smith vocalizes many of the shared hopes of Anacostia residents about revitalizing the area, she is also a proponent of gentrification.

The property at 523-525 Mellon Street SE was the Wilson Courts Apartments until 2004. Now, it’s vacant, dingy, and drab. Last year, the building was bought by So Others Might Eat—a homeless service provider that plans to turn the building into transitional housing.

“I would rather the building be vacant than for So Others Might Eat to come in,” says LaShaun Smith. “We have a very high proportion of group homes, transitional housing. Our neighborhood should not be the dumping ground for all of D.C.”

“They want it to be condos,” says [Darrell Gaston, community organizer.] “What’s wrong with using your own money to build transitional housing for people who need help? We don’t need more condos for new people to push people out.”

The debate over SOME is about more than just one property.

“You can’t just concentrate low-income people in one area and expect that area to thrive,” says Susan Kennedy. “I think there needs to be more variety. I think I need to see a better mix, whether it’s single-family homes, or apartment rentals, or condos.”

Commissioner and organizer Tijwanna Phillips looks at these claims skeptically. As she tells the WCP:

“Each time someone talks about development,” says Phillips, “it’s only to let us know that affordable housing is going to continue to diminish in Ward 8 as well.” In a ward with a median household income of $34,651, the sprouting of $550,000 condos doesn’t spark universal excitement.

Affordable housing and rising property taxes are a major issue to DC residents, who find themselves more and more constrained each year.  In areas of heavy gentrification (like Columbia Heights) many residents who own their homes are struggling to keep up with tax payments to the city, and newly enforced ordinance codes.  Washington DC is changing, quickly and violently. And while the backdrop of the fight for Anacostia is a story of class, both class and race continue to loom prominently as the city transitions.

Earlier:
The Gentrification Shuffle
Gentrification has Nothing to Do with White Hipsters
More Notes on Gentrification
Another Perspective on Gentrification
I Colonize

Dude comedies have become a staple of the American media diet, though they probably always have been in some form or another. Slacker dudes are particularly popular—the successes of Judd Apatow and Seth MacFarlane’s most popular fare are evidence enough.

HBO, in its perpetual effort to not be television, has taken this formula and turned it on its head. First with Entourage, a series about making it and staying on top, and now with How to Make It in America, about what happens before you’ve made it. Our two heroes, Ben (Bryan Greenberg) and Cam (Victor Rasuk) are too guys who are tired of doing nothing, and propose to start a line of designer jeans.

I suspect Ben and Cam will eventually get rich. The series can’t sustain itself on poverty and hardship (it’s too earnest); still, there’s something intriguing about How to Make It in America’s emphasis on the less glamorous, or occasionally glamorous New York—as opposed to Sex and the City and its copycats’ perpetually glamorous city, or Entourage’s Los Angeles. Sure, there are hot girls and gallery openings, even a cameo from John Varvatos, but the tone of the show is a little dour, like New York after The Fall. It’s certainly about the increasingly distant American dream and the ridiculous lengths people go through to achieve it. Yet it’s also, I suspect, about how the dream is almost just a handshake and a cocktail away.

More than anything, How to Make It is about the dream of post-boom New York City (perhaps also post-Boom America, but it’s really NYC-focused). This became very clear in episode two when Ben describes the philosophy behind his denim line to his former fashion professor. He wants to get back to the grit and authenticity of old NYC. “It’s inspired by 1970s New York, so you’ve got the birth of hip hop and the birth of punk rock … just the spirit of the 70s,” Ben says. “Were you even alive in the 70s? This place was a dump. Central Park was a war zone. Times Square was full of hookers,” the prof retorts. Ben: “What’s not to love, right?”

The “real” New York runs through How to Make It, especially in its use of still photographs over various parts of the city, both in its intro and between scenes. Unfortunately, these photos give the show almost all its verve—so far, it’s otherwise uninteresting. The photographs give us a sense of place, a grittier, dirtier, darker New York City, like in Scorsese’s Taxi Driver or After Hours.

How to Make It in America seems to be saying: it’s great to be rich and successful in New York, so long as everyone else is suffering. It’s a bit strange, really. The New York of the 60s, 70s and early 80s, is fantasized and longed for, with its “realness,” cheap real estate, empty storefronts and dirty streets. In this fantasy, a poorer New York is a playground. Gone from the discussion are rampant crime and unemployment. This New York is a great place to live, if you’re one of the few people to have “made” it. You can buy an enormous apartment; bolt downtown and take in some underground art, stopping by Warhol’s Factory, Oldenberg’s Store, Haring’s Shop; see Madonna sing; and jet back to your loft before you get robbed.

But the truth is, if this magical New York reappears, it’ll probably be at the expense of our heroes Ben and Cam. Independent luxury brands do not fare well in tough times, ceding ground to more established labels. Recently, Phi and Maria Pinto, a Michelle Obama favorite, have both shuttered. Zac Posen apparently isn’t doing too well. Even celebrity fashion lines have suffered. There are always successes, of course, but I doubt any investor would give much money to our former slacker dudes in this economy.

The appeal of the old New York, especially to many unemployed men who now populate the rolls, is understandable. Who wouldn’t want to see their smug high school colleague turned hedge fund manager down and out and living in New Jersey? But the truth is, if he’s forced out of Manhattan, you’re living on Staten Island with mom and dad, and there isn’t anything less glamorous than that.

How To Make It in America is off to a rough start, lacking the tight plotting of HBO’s dramas or sharp dialogue of Entourage and Sex and the City. I suspect the show will improve as Ben and Cam succeed, even if their success is utterly—and disappointingly—a fantasy.

Recently learned that the city of Oakland is trying to make it a lot harder for people to open nail salons and laundromats, via an emergency ordinance. What is that, you ask? The gist of it is that if you want to operate a new nail salon or laundromat, you’d have to apply for a major conditional use permit, which costs around $3,000, which means that many mom and pop owners will think twice about opening a nail shop in Oakland.

What do we know about nail salons? A lot, and also not a lot. In the latest issue of Hyphen, I wrote about the trend of green nail salons. For years now we’ve known and suspected that the chemicals used in nail salons are not good for the workers, or for consumers. We also know that upwards of 80 percent of nail shops in California are owned and run by Asian immigrants, mostly Vietnamese. It is a popular field for new refugees/immigrants because you don’t need good English skills and there is whole existing community to help new people get into the field (cosmetology tests in Vietnamese, Vietnamese cosmetology schools, Asian-owned shops, etc.).

I came across an interesting piece on Boing Boing where the author is trying to reconcile his gentrified reality.

In “Your Money or Your Life: A Lesson on the Front Stoop,” Douglas Rushkoff recounts being mugged in his neighborhood. The experience jarred him for a variety of reasons:

In the meantime, I posted a note about my strange and frightening experience to the Park Slope Parents list–a rather crunchy Internet community of moms, food co-op members, and other leftie types dedicated to the health and well- being of their families and their decidedly progressive, gentrifying neighborhood. It seemed the responsible thing to do, and I suppose I also expected some expression of sympathy and support.

Amazingly, the very first two emails I received were from people angry that I had posted the name of the street on which the crime had occurred. Didn’t I realize that this publicity could adversely affect all of our property values? The “sellers’ market” was already difficult enough! With a famous actor reportedly leaving the area for Manhattan, does Brooklyn’s real estate market need more bad press? And this was before the real estate crash.

I was stunned. Had it really come to this? Did people care more about the market value of their neighborhood than what was actually taking place within it? Besides, it didn’t even make good business sense to bury the issue. In the long run, an open and honest conversation about crime and how to prevent it should make the neighborhood safer. Property values would go up in the end, not down. So these homeowners were more concerned about the immediate liquidity of their town houses than their long-term asset value — not to mention the actual experience of living in them. And these were among the wealthiest people in New York, who shouldn’t have to be worrying about such things. What had happened to make them behave this way?

Eventually, Rushkoff’s pondering leads him to start questioning the nature of displacement in neighborhoods:

Why, I wondered aloud on my blog, was I struggling to make $4,500-per-month rent on a two- bedroom, fourth- floor walk-up in this supposedly “hip” section of Brooklyn, when I could just as easily get mugged somewhere else for a lot less per month? Was my willingness to participate in this runaway market part of the problem?

The detectives who took my report drove the point home. One of them drew a circle on a map of Brooklyn. “Inside this circle is where the rich white people from Manhattan are moving. That’s the target area. Hunting ground. Think about it from your mugger’s point of view: quiet, tree-lined streets of row houses, each worth a million or two, and inhabited by the rich people who displaced your family. Now, you live in or around the projects just outside the circle. Where would you go to mug someone?”

Back on the World Wide Web, a friend of mine–another Park Slope writer–made an open appeal for my family to stay in Brooklyn. He saw “the Slope” as a mixed-use neighborhood now reaching the “peak of livability” that the legendary urban anthropologist Jane Jacobs idealized. He explained how all great neighborhoods go through the same basic process: Some artists move into the only area they can afford–a poor area with nothing to speak of. Eventually, there are enough of them to open a gallery. People start coming to the gallery in the evenings, creating demand for a coffeehouse nearby, and so on. Slowly but surely, an artsy store or two and a clique of hipsters “pioneer” the neighborhood until there’s significant sidewalk activity late into the night, making it safer for successive waves of incoming businesses and residents.

Of course, after the city’s newspaper “discovers” the new trendy neighborhood, the artists are joined and eventually replaced by increasingly wealthy but decidedly less hip young professionals, lawyers, and businesspeople–but hopefully not so many that the district completely loses its “flavor.” Investment increases, the district grows bigger, and everyone is happier and wealthier.

Still, what happens to the people who lived there from the beginning–the ones whom the police detective was talking about? The “natives”? This process of gentrification does not occur ex nihilo.

While I liked his reasoning on his own choices and culpability later on in the piece, I kept getting stuck where he describes the process. Is gentrification really that simple?

Then I realized what was bothering me: the presentation of gentrification as an organic process, starting with young starving artists (who then must be compelled to open a gallery, what else do artists do?) and ending with a more moneyed populace coming to chase the newly cool neighborhood. Then, the cycle is supposed to repeat.

But where is the role of the state in this discussion?

We’ve covered gentrification quite a bit on Racialicious, but we haven’t really spent time discussing the necessary power dynamics involved to completely displace a community.

Back when I wrote The Gentrification Shuffle, I didn’t think too much about the role of the state in encouraging gentrification. However, over the years, I’ve been paying more attention to exactly how this happens. My neighborhood was specifically chosen to be “revitalized” and was actually a part of a six year long state initiative to get young families and couples to populate this area. The initiative was fairly successful. There is a lot more income flowing to my part of the city, far more than before, and they continue to make small neighborhood improvements. The demographics have started to shift, but not quickly – most of the people in rent controlled housing stayed put, and while the new additions to the neighborhood require more money to enjoy, most of the mom and pop shops and restaurants are still in business.

Unfortunately, this is not the case in many areas close by. A lot of small businesses are closing because of hits to their business or loss of municipal benefits that allowed them to keep their doors open. In addition, some areas are specifically being remade to target a certain type of new resident, one with mounds of disposable income. Shops that do not fit the new vision of the neighborhood are encouraged to close either with buy outs or leveraged pressure by the city.

Prior to the new stadium, Southeast DC* was one of the places where the government used eminent* domain to take privately owned land and change it into what they wanted – in this case, an area known for slums and city owned senior citizen housing was torn down to make way for a new mall. When the mall failed to attract the type of stores they hoped, the city closed them down. Now, a new plan – valued at a $2 billion dollar current investment with $10 billion more proposed – has been launched to great fanfare, basing the new Waterfront around Nationals Ballpark and the new headquarters for the Department of Transportation.

This map is provided by JDLand.com, one resident’s documentation of the changes in the SE area. On her site the map above is interactive, and hovering over the areas provides a brief description of what is to come.

If you look at the residential area on the map, you notice that of the four major projects listed (Capitol Quarter, Foundry Lofts/Yards, Velocity Condos, 909 New Jersey Avenue) only one indicates subsidized units. (The Capper Mixed Income Building is proposed, but does not have a timeline for development.) The other projects indicate that there will be market rate housing available, defined by the National Low Income Housing Coalition (NLIHC) to mean:

In District of Columbia, the Fair Market Rent (FMR) for a two-bedroom apartment is $1,288. In order to afford this level of rent and utilities, without paying more than 30% of income on housing, a household must earn $4,293 monthly or $51,520 annually. Assuming a 40-hour work week, 52 weeks per year, this level of income translates into a Housing Wage of $24.77.

In District of Columbia, a minimum wage worker earns an hourly wage of $7.55. In order to afford the FMR for a two-bedroom apartment, a minimum wage earner must work 131 hours per week, 52 weeks per year. Or, a household must include 3.3 minimum wage earner(s) working 40 hours per week year-round in order to make the two bedroom FMR affordable.

In District of Columbia, the estimated mean (average) wage for a renter is $25.41 an hour. In order to afford the FMR for a two-bedroom apartment at this wage, a renter must work 39 hours per week, 52 weeks per year. Or, working 40 hours per week year-round, a household must include 1.0 worker(s) earning the mean renter wage in order to make the two-bedroom FMR affordable.

Monthly Supplemental Security Income (SSI) payments for an individual are $674 in District of Columbia. If SSI represents an individual’s sole source of income, $202 in monthly rent is affordable, while the FMR for a one-bedroom is $1,131.

A unit is considered affordable if it costs no more than 30% of the renter’s income.

The picture isn’t so rosy for those of us making above minimum wage either. In the introduction to their 2008 report, the NLIHC describes the other gaps in the space between paid wages and the rental wage:

While there were roughly 1.7 million minimum wage earners in the U.S. before the rate was increased in 2007, most Americans earn more than the minimum wage for every hour they work. The median hourly wage in this country is just under $16.00.

This analysis estimates that nationwide the average renter earns around $13.94 an hour. As Figure 1 illustrates, a full-time job at the national mean renter wage falls short of providing enough income to afford even a one-bedroom home at the average FMR. Only a household that averages 50 hours per week year-round – with no unpaid time off – can afford the national average FMR for a two-bedroom unit at the national mean renter wage.

In a fascinating report called “A Place to Call Home,” written by the Foster and Adoptive Parent Advocacy Center (FAPAC) as a policy paper for the Moriah Fund, the link between DC’s affordable housing crisis and child welfare is explored. While the majority of the 2004 paper focuses on the destabilization of families and the vulnerabilities of foster children in this environment, the study reveals some facts about the housing crisis that cannot be ignored:

For renters with annual incomes below $10,000, the Washington region has a shortfall of almost 40,000 affordable housing units. The supply of affordable housing meets the demands of less than 50% of the area’s neediest renters. (Housing in the Nation’s Capital, Fannie Mae Foundation, 2003) A minimum wage employee earns $6.15/hour, and can afford no more than $320/month in rent.

Ironically, the average monthly cost of a reserved parking space in downtown Washington, DC is $280. (Affordable Housing: Designing An American Asset, National Building Museum exhibit brochure, 2004)

Incomes for people living in the District have not kept pace with housing prices; from January 1999 to March 2003, the sale price of homes rose four times faster than income, and the price of rentals rose three times faster. (PolicyLink Report, Fall 2003) In addition to the increase in the cost of existing housing, there has been a loss of affordable housing units due to a variety of factors, including conversion of private market affordable rental housing to high-end rentals or condos in emerging markets, expiration of long-term government contracts for privately owned subsidized developments (Section 8 contracts operated by the DC Housing Authority), a decrease in stock of rental units subsidized by HUD, and the production of HOPE VI housing, which replaces fewer units than the number of public housing units demolished. (Housing in the Nation’s Capital)

For many people, it is no longer possible to live in the District of Columbia without housing assistance. The resources of the child welfare system are strained as staff and advocates try to help families secure what minimal affordable housing that is available. Although financial assistance is available for housing through a number of federal and local programs, these programs fall far short of meeting the need. There are approximately 35,000 people on the waiting list for Housing Choice Vouchers, a program funded through the federal Family Unification Project (formerly Section 8).

This program is currently 100% full.

Of the 930 confirmed housing units in Southeast, 91 are flagged to be “workforce rate units” and an additional 111 are to be subsidized and/or section 8 units.

While this ratio may change once the Capper project is approved**, the stark realities of affordable housing and challenges in city planning will not be resolved any time soon.

So, I’ll open up the floor. Readers, what do you think is the role of the state in ensuring affordable housing for its residents?

* Corrected as per Blanc2 in the comments.
*As per JD in the comments,the area in question is Southeast. She also notes the Capper project has been approved.

Last year, it took me roughly six weeks to earn $5,800. This is significant because during the late eighties and early nineties my mother received public assistance, subsequently she and I lived off of $5,800 for an entire year.

Yes, $5,800 per year.

Given these facts, last year, I thought a lot about the ways in which I could personally serve as a gentrifying factor in my hometown of Oakland, California. Often times, in popular media, there is very little talk of gentrification, or if there is, it is discussed in vague terms, such as”those hipsters are moving in” or “those white people are moving in” or “this area is becoming nicer.”

Gentrification has very little to do with white hipsters moving into the ‘hood and everything to do with process of people who earn higher incomes moving into neighborhoods where folks reside who are earning comparatively lower incomes.

If I am a Black women, in Bed-stuy, East Oakland or the South Side of Chicago, and I earn $60K per year and I am willing to
pay $1000 for an apartment that everyone else, who earns between $10-15K/year, pays $500 per month, then I am
serving as a force of gentrification in this neighborhood. It bears being stated that I in may ways I am a gentrifying force in the same way that a white person earning $60K who moves into the same community.

What becomes pivotal is my willingness to be engaged with the community that I have moved into.

A more sustainable, honest and comprehensive conversation about gentrification would involve a discussion of the income of the gentrifiers and not just the race of the gentrifiers.

Wikipedia defines gentrification as,

…the change in an urban area associated with the movement of more affluent individuals into a lower-class area. The area experiences demographic shifts, including an increase in the median income, a reduction in household size, and often a decline in the proportion of racial minorities (if such minorities are present). More households with higher incomes result in increased real estate values with higher associated rent, home prices, and property taxes. Industrial land use can decline with redevelopment bringing more commercial and residential use. Such changes often result in transformation of the neighborhood’s character and culture.

Most of what I understand about gentrification is derived from brilliant scholar and professor at City University New York,
Neil Smith.

Professor’s Smith scholarship is meaningful because he discusses gentrification not only as it pertains to urban communities but also on a global scale. In an interview with Jens Sambale, Volker Eick of Policing Crowds, Smith writes,

Early examples of gentrification might include the Islington area of London or Greenwich Village in Manhattan but by the 1970s there were many recorded cases of gentrification in Europe, North America and Australia. In Berlin, early examples of gentrification were recorded in Schöneberg and Kreuzberg, among other neighbourhoods, but the fall of the Berlin Wall released a huge stock of housing that had undergone considerable disinvestment, leading to a widespread gentrification of Prenzlauer Berg and Mitte.

Professor Smith’s general premise is that gentrification is a natural feature of capitalism. If the goal capitalism is both the endless accumulation of capital and the extraction of all possible profit from a piece of property, then it makes sense that once a neighborhood becomes more desirable it will then be sold to the highest bidder.

Smith goes on to explain the nuances of gentrification when he writes,

Gentrification occurs in urban areas where prior disinvestment in the urban infrastructure creates urban neighborhoods that can be profitably redeveloped. In its earliest form, gentrification affected decaying working class neighbourhoods close to urban centers where middle and upper middle class people colonized or re-colonized the area, leading to the displacement and eviction of existing residents. The central mechanism behind gentrification can be thought of as a ‘rent gap’. When neighborhoods experience disinvestment, the ground rent that can be extracted from the area declines meaning lower land prices. As this disinvestment continues, the gap between the actual ground rent in the area and the ground rent that could be extracted were the area to undergo reinvestment becomes wide enough to allow that reinvestment to take place. This rent gap may arise largely through the operation of markets, most notably in the United States, but state policies can also be central in encouraging disinvestment and reinvestment associated with gentrification. But only wealthier people are able to afford the costs of this renewed investment. Integral with these economic shifts are social and cultural shifts that change the kinds of shops, facilities and public spaces in a neighbourhood.

After reading this, I thought word? Gentrification in West Oakland and East Germany? Rent Gaps? All of this brought me back to San Francisco and the film Medicine for Melancholy.

The process of gentrification and the impact that it is having on African Americans is a central aspect of the film Medicine of Melancholy. In some ways, Jo, one of the main character’s in the movie, has a sense of entitlement with regard to living in San Francisco.

San Francisco is the largest urban city with the smallest Black population.

Jo’s rationale is that he shouldn’t have to be middle class to live in San Francisco. There is nothing wrong with a sense of entitlement. Entitlement compels people to act , to change the world. However, given the systematic removal of African Americans from San Francisco, I was curious about the intersection of entitlement and the history of African Americans in this city.

In the book, Black San Francisco, Albert Broussard describes how San Francisco has always resisted the presence of African Americans, how historically San Francisco has upheld racist policies towards African Americans.

By an large, African Americans came to the Bay Area during WWII to work in the shipping yards and other war time jobs, however they found that after the war, the game changed. Broussard writes,

The question of whether blacks were qualified was not an issue, but whether or not private business and industry would break long-standing precedent and integrate their work forces in the absence of statutory pressure or coercion from the local, state, or federal government. Fearing low employee morale and adverse public opinion, many companies were reluctant to integrate. Others were satisfied to hire black workers only for menial labor.

According to Broussard, the San Francisco Board of Supervisors knew that the businesses were practicing open and aggressive employment discrimination. Civil Rights leaders sought to implement a local Fair Employment Practices ordinance in 1950. This ordinance was met with resistance on both the state and the local level from the California State Assembly and the agricultural lobby.

There were an intense effort to ensure that there was legal recourse for African Americans who were discriminated against by employers.

Broussard describes,

…there were attempts in 1945, 1946, 1949 to create a commission whose most controversial feature was its “broad sweeping power over employment discrimination, including the authority to receive, investigate, act in, and render decisions” on complaints that alleged discrimination in employment.

This was an incredible amount of power, to say the least, and it wasn’t going to be obtained without a protracted fight.

There was also open and aggressive housing discrimination in San Francisco. Broussard writes,

Seaton Manning was so distressed over his personal housing situation that he threatened to resign as executive director of the Urban League and return to Boston. “After two full years,” Manning wrote Lester Granger, ” we have been unable to find a house or apartment in San Francisco. The housing shortage is acute …Anything good is restricted.

Black leaders thought that the housing shortage could be addressed with a permanent low income housing unit. They soon learned differently. Broussard describes how the San Francisco Housing Authority allowed African Americans to live in only one of six newly constructed housing projects. He writes,

The housing authority adopted a resolution in 1942 by unanimous vote which stated…..In the selection of tenants for this project, this Authority shall act with references to the established usages, customs and traditions of the community.” Nor would the Housing Authority “insofar as possible enforce the commingling of races, but shall insofar possible maintain and preserve the same racial composition which exists in the neighborhood where a project is located.

No commingling of races in “liberal” San Francisco? Who knew?

The state of 2009 Black San Francisco can only be examined in the context of its history. Given the discrimination that African
Americans faced historically, the fact that San Francisco’s African American population grew from 43,460 in 1940, to 55,000 in 1951, and the restrictive covenants that kept working class, middle class and prominent African Americans from moving out the ‘hood, the fact that African Americans are leaving San Francisco in droves isn’t that surprising.

At the end of the day, when we look at shifting demographics, it is important for us to turn to history and to what is going on in the world at large in order to understand how our economic system and legal policies affect our lives.

If we do this, I think we will be on the road to having a meaningful conversation about the sustainability of our communities.

Want more?

Tania Ketenjian conducted an interview with Medicine for Melancholy director Barry Jenkins. Tom Wetzel’s essay, What is Gentrification? is informative.

Experience any gentrification lately?
Can you afford to buy a house in the neighborhood where you grew up?
Why do people hate hipsters?
Was this post informative? Is there anything you wish I would have discussed?