I recently, I became a 1st time home-buyer. Yes, it sounds perfectly strange and perfectly right in this wonderful economy. I bought in the first suburb of Sacramento, Oak Park, the home of former NBA player Kevin Johnson, the Major-Elect of Sacramento, and the home of a history of crime, drugs, violence and failed schools. It is also home to a rich African-American history, and now diverse community attempting to blend the past, present and future.
I have joked on many occasions over the past few months to friends and family that I am a “Black gentrifier,” but is that even possible? I targeted the neighborhood two years ago for its relatively inexpensive homes (made even cheaper by the mortgage crisis); improving educational system (made better by Johnson’s St. Hope organization’s charter schools and new pre-school, which my 4 year old son attends); improved crime statistics in the sub-neighborhood I targeted; the opportunity to be a role model to others in the community; and the appearance of professionals and families, who many just happen to be white. My financial calculations also gave me the hope that with some upgrades and patience, I would build significant equity in the home over the next several years, despite the current economic and housing crisis. I was also drawn to the diverse ethnic and racial makeup of the community (one third Latino/Hispanic, 20% African-American, and 20% Caucasian),[1] and the existence of a faith community committed to the neighborhood led by the Family Life Center (St. Paul Church) and St. Hope.
I am recently finished reading a novel by Nathan McCall, called Them. It centers on the gentrification of the Atlanta neighborhood where Dr. Martin Luther King’s church and home are located, the Old Fourth Ward. I found myself fascinated by being torn in identifying with both the white couple that gentrifies the neighborhood and the African-American characters that watch their community change overnight. For example, in Them, a long standing Black owned corner store is sold and replaced by a café/coffee shop. The long-time African-American residents eulogize the loss of a neighborhood institution, while predominately new white residents rejoice at the opening of the café.
In my most altruistic thoughts and discussions, I see my presence in the community as a positive. Though not from the Oak Park or Sacramento, I have lived in predominately Black Communities (many that eventually or were being gentrified) throughout my adult life and during my early childhood. My son is a student in the community and we live a block from the predominately Black Sacramento High School, which was rescued in recent years by St. Hope and turned into a multi-themed set of charter schools. I cannot hope but suspect that our presence and activity in the community, through community involvement, donations to local charities, participation in local school and community events, and local activism, serve as a positive role model for the young students walking to and from the high school.
It still makes me wonder, can a Black professional assist in the gentrification of the neighborhood? By definition the concept of gentrification implies that someone of greater means is replacing someone of lesser means in the community. Through a quick Google search I was able to pull up the following definitions of gentrification:
“Gentrification, or urban gentrification, is a phenomenon in which low-cost, physically deteriorated neighborhoods undergo physical renovation and an increase in property values, along with an influx of wealthier residents who may displace the prior residents.”
“The process in which a neighborhood is transformed from low-value to high-value properties.”
“colonisation of an urban area by a higher socio-economic group.”
“The phenomenon of a formally industrial or dilapidated area becoming attractive to middle classes through improved services, access or a perception of "trendyness".
What is missing from these definitions is the race and ethnicity of the individuals, families, and businesses in the aforementioned displacement process. It is clear that there is an income displacement, but far too many times the individuals that are being displaced in a community are Black and Brown. Often the displaced individuals are forces to move to first, second and further ring suburbs that at one time demanded and received general infrastructure, transportation and other services that were deflected for decades from inner cities. Now with the re-migration back into the urban cores by more affluent groups, there will no doubt be greater demand pushed on central city services and in tough economic times a diversion of resources away from suburbs, further isolating these communities from transit, health care and jobs.
In my career I have often advocated for policies that mediate the affects of gentrification. Common strategies have included the retention and development of affordable housing, rental and homeowner assistance programs, housing trust funds, voluntary inclusionary zoning, asset building and other strategies. The Oak Park community has recently focused on vacant property redevelopment as its key strategy coupled with homeownership assistance and a housing trust fund, as a way to revitalize the community while helping current residents remain in place.[2]
My concern is that renters, such as the woman and her daughter that were displaced when I bought my home, have the opportunity to live in vital, growing, safe neighborhoods that ensure high quality and diverse educational opportunities for their children. Though I have the right to live where I please, how do we ensure that those pushed out of improving communities have the ability to stay or move into communities that provide similar quality of life? Though the Sacramento region has an affordable housing ordinance in place if public funds are used, many developers forego public funding to develop housing stock in the region privately to avoid developing affordable housing.
Several years ago I lived in a few homes in the Mt. Vernon Square neighborhood of Washington, D.C. Nearly 20 years ago the neighborhood was a mix of drugs, prostitution, students, long-term African-American families, and a smattering of homeowners and unknowingly future gentrifiers. The arrival of the MCI, now Verizon Center and later the new Convention Center ushered in the gentrification of the neighborhood. One shining light of the community was the presence of the faith community led by churches that developed affordable housing in the neighborhood to provide options to members of their church and the broader community. Though not enough, it provided an opportunity for native residents to participate in the renaissance of the neighborhood. Old and new residents also actively participated in the relocation of the Washington, D.C. Convention Center to their neighborhood, which included concerns over environmental contamination at the development site and securing job prioritization for local residents. Home-ownership assistance programs in the City also helped many recent Howard University grads and other young professionals buy in this and the larger Shaw neighborhood. I hope that similar models are used as part of other efforts to assist residents of other communities. However, overwhelmingly the Black families that lived in the community for generations have displaced.
In the final analysis, redevelopment, infill, refill, revitalization, progress, economic development, etc., should not be done on the backs of long-time residents and families, pushing them to outer ring suburbs that lack the infrastructure, transit and other amenities needed to sustain quality of life.
On a recent warm and breezy night my son and I sat on our new porch of our new house and talked about how nice it was to own our home. He gave me a high five and we laughed. At the moment I was not a gentrifier, I was a proud father building economic, cultural and educational future for his child. My only hope was that I could assist and inspire others to reach for and achieve this dream, not whether I gentrified the neighborhood or not.
[1] http://www.urban.org/publications/411294.html.
[2] http://www.urban.org/publications/411294.html.
I have joked on many occasions over the past few months to friends and family that I am a “Black gentrifier,” but is that even possible? I targeted the neighborhood two years ago for its relatively inexpensive homes (made even cheaper by the mortgage crisis); improving educational system (made better by Johnson’s St. Hope organization’s charter schools and new pre-school, which my 4 year old son attends); improved crime statistics in the sub-neighborhood I targeted; the opportunity to be a role model to others in the community; and the appearance of professionals and families, who many just happen to be white. My financial calculations also gave me the hope that with some upgrades and patience, I would build significant equity in the home over the next several years, despite the current economic and housing crisis. I was also drawn to the diverse ethnic and racial makeup of the community (one third Latino/Hispanic, 20% African-American, and 20% Caucasian),[1] and the existence of a faith community committed to the neighborhood led by the Family Life Center (St. Paul Church) and St. Hope.
I am recently finished reading a novel by Nathan McCall, called Them. It centers on the gentrification of the Atlanta neighborhood where Dr. Martin Luther King’s church and home are located, the Old Fourth Ward. I found myself fascinated by being torn in identifying with both the white couple that gentrifies the neighborhood and the African-American characters that watch their community change overnight. For example, in Them, a long standing Black owned corner store is sold and replaced by a café/coffee shop. The long-time African-American residents eulogize the loss of a neighborhood institution, while predominately new white residents rejoice at the opening of the café.
In my most altruistic thoughts and discussions, I see my presence in the community as a positive. Though not from the Oak Park or Sacramento, I have lived in predominately Black Communities (many that eventually or were being gentrified) throughout my adult life and during my early childhood. My son is a student in the community and we live a block from the predominately Black Sacramento High School, which was rescued in recent years by St. Hope and turned into a multi-themed set of charter schools. I cannot hope but suspect that our presence and activity in the community, through community involvement, donations to local charities, participation in local school and community events, and local activism, serve as a positive role model for the young students walking to and from the high school.
It still makes me wonder, can a Black professional assist in the gentrification of the neighborhood? By definition the concept of gentrification implies that someone of greater means is replacing someone of lesser means in the community. Through a quick Google search I was able to pull up the following definitions of gentrification:
“Gentrification, or urban gentrification, is a phenomenon in which low-cost, physically deteriorated neighborhoods undergo physical renovation and an increase in property values, along with an influx of wealthier residents who may displace the prior residents.”
“The process in which a neighborhood is transformed from low-value to high-value properties.”
“colonisation of an urban area by a higher socio-economic group.”
“The phenomenon of a formally industrial or dilapidated area becoming attractive to middle classes through improved services, access or a perception of "trendyness".
What is missing from these definitions is the race and ethnicity of the individuals, families, and businesses in the aforementioned displacement process. It is clear that there is an income displacement, but far too many times the individuals that are being displaced in a community are Black and Brown. Often the displaced individuals are forces to move to first, second and further ring suburbs that at one time demanded and received general infrastructure, transportation and other services that were deflected for decades from inner cities. Now with the re-migration back into the urban cores by more affluent groups, there will no doubt be greater demand pushed on central city services and in tough economic times a diversion of resources away from suburbs, further isolating these communities from transit, health care and jobs.
In my career I have often advocated for policies that mediate the affects of gentrification. Common strategies have included the retention and development of affordable housing, rental and homeowner assistance programs, housing trust funds, voluntary inclusionary zoning, asset building and other strategies. The Oak Park community has recently focused on vacant property redevelopment as its key strategy coupled with homeownership assistance and a housing trust fund, as a way to revitalize the community while helping current residents remain in place.[2]
My concern is that renters, such as the woman and her daughter that were displaced when I bought my home, have the opportunity to live in vital, growing, safe neighborhoods that ensure high quality and diverse educational opportunities for their children. Though I have the right to live where I please, how do we ensure that those pushed out of improving communities have the ability to stay or move into communities that provide similar quality of life? Though the Sacramento region has an affordable housing ordinance in place if public funds are used, many developers forego public funding to develop housing stock in the region privately to avoid developing affordable housing.
Several years ago I lived in a few homes in the Mt. Vernon Square neighborhood of Washington, D.C. Nearly 20 years ago the neighborhood was a mix of drugs, prostitution, students, long-term African-American families, and a smattering of homeowners and unknowingly future gentrifiers. The arrival of the MCI, now Verizon Center and later the new Convention Center ushered in the gentrification of the neighborhood. One shining light of the community was the presence of the faith community led by churches that developed affordable housing in the neighborhood to provide options to members of their church and the broader community. Though not enough, it provided an opportunity for native residents to participate in the renaissance of the neighborhood. Old and new residents also actively participated in the relocation of the Washington, D.C. Convention Center to their neighborhood, which included concerns over environmental contamination at the development site and securing job prioritization for local residents. Home-ownership assistance programs in the City also helped many recent Howard University grads and other young professionals buy in this and the larger Shaw neighborhood. I hope that similar models are used as part of other efforts to assist residents of other communities. However, overwhelmingly the Black families that lived in the community for generations have displaced.
In the final analysis, redevelopment, infill, refill, revitalization, progress, economic development, etc., should not be done on the backs of long-time residents and families, pushing them to outer ring suburbs that lack the infrastructure, transit and other amenities needed to sustain quality of life.
On a recent warm and breezy night my son and I sat on our new porch of our new house and talked about how nice it was to own our home. He gave me a high five and we laughed. At the moment I was not a gentrifier, I was a proud father building economic, cultural and educational future for his child. My only hope was that I could assist and inspire others to reach for and achieve this dream, not whether I gentrified the neighborhood or not.
[1] http://www.urban.org/publications/411294.html.
[2] http://www.urban.org/publications/411294.html.
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