Philadelphia, PA, or Philadelphia, MS?

One city is the site of a watershed moment during the Civil Rights Movement. It was in this city that Mickey Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney—an interracial group of civil rights activists—died at the hands of the Ku Klux Klan during Freedom Summer, 1964. Coincidentally, this was also the city where Ronald Reagan launched his 1980 campaign for the White House, embracing a racially charged rhetoric of “states’ rights.” The historical legacy of this city stands as a testament to the violence, tragedy, and racism that epitomized the struggle for Civil Rights in the 1960s.

The other city is home to the Liberty Bell. This city, colloquially referred to as the “city of brotherly love,” gave birth to the American Revolution. It was our nation’s first capital, the site of American Independence. This city carries a rich, celebrated history—a history rooted in patriotism, freedom, and lofty ideals of equality.

In which city did white patrons leave a swimming pool in protest as a group of young black campers entered? In which city were these young black children denied access to the open-membership “private” pool, even after paying the $1,900 membership fee?

I’ll give you a hint—it wasn’t in Mississippi.

This past week, The Valley Swim Club in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania revoked the membership of 60 black children from The Creative Steps Day Camp. Their reason? "There was concern that a lot of kids would change the complexion … and the atmosphere of the club," said John Duesler, Club President. That’s not a paraphrase—it’s a direct quote, from a written statement no less. The racist vitriol of this Freudian slip (I don’t think he intended the literal connotation of “complexion”) goes well beyond the club’s discriminatory membership policy. Indeed, the racist logic of Duesler is emblematic of the prevalent, pernicious, dangerously appealing ideology of laissez-faire racism.

A new political culture has effectively barred the acceptance of 1960s era Jim Crow racism—a racist ideology grounded in biological explanations of black inferiority. However the fall of Jim Crow was accompanied by a more passive, yet equally problematic ideology of black disadvantage. The general public now accepts cultural explanations of black inferiority, citing blacks’ collective lack of mainstream values, norms, and behaviors as the source of their deprivation. This is exactly the rhetoric adopted by Duesler and The Valley Swim Club—a rhetoric rooted in the unfounded fear that these black kids simply won’t know how to act right.

This kind of blind discrimination is nothing new, nor is it uncommon, particularly in Northern cities. Segregation—be it explicitly enforced or implemented through proxies and euphemisms—is an everyday reality. Our neighborhoods are segregated. Our nightlife is segregated. Our schools are segregated. Our public beaches and parks are segregated. Economic enterprise and labor markets are segregated. This is not a new development—in fact segregation and racial inequality have been an ever-present facet of American political, economic, and social institutions since, well, as far back as my historical knowledge goes.

Segregation, racial inequality, and racist social policies are not phenomena relegated to the Deep South, nor are they relics of a distant past. Discrimination is embedded in lending practices, ingrained in residential choices, entrenched in the criminal justice system, and woven into the very fabric of our labor markets. The incident in Philadelphia sheds light on an everyday struggle for communities of color—a struggle that most certainly did not end on November 5, 2008.

Some may argue that we are living in a post-racial society. Some may argue that racial discrimination is a thing of the past. Some may argue that racism is fading.

Try making those arguments to the 60 campers of The Creative Steps Day Camp.

Sometimes, Even the Players Have to Watch From the Sidelines.

Legendary Detroit Tiger Alan Trammell made a career playing baseball at Old Tiger Stadium. But as the stadium’s demolition reached a close last week, the legendary player turned casual spectator, standing by as the stands came crashing down and the field turned to rubble.

There’s something profoundly touching about this photo. Something tragically beautiful about a man peering through the fences, saying goodbye to the structure that once defined his life. Something that is almost too moving for words. Something deeply depressing, yet surprisingly inspiring. Something debilitating, yet invigorating.

A lot of “de-” words epitomize Rust Belt decay: depopulation, decentralization, deindustrialization. Common images include abandoned homes, vacant land, and the jobless. When most of us think of cities like Detroit, we imagine an urban abyss. When many of us envision the post-industrial Midwest, we picture an urban wasteland.

Yet, in a very real sense, this photo captures urban decline better than any other image in the popular imagination could. As policymakers debate urban “shrinkage,” this is the image we need to consider. This is the scene we need to recall as our civic leaders use an army of bulldozers to plow through under-populated urban neighborhoods. This is the moment we need to remember when we debate what to do in America’s cities. This moment, this player turned spectator, captures the gravity and magnitude of urban decline. This photo sets the tone for our discussions, and study, of urban America.

The face of urban decline isn’t really a face. No, it’s an old ball player, watching his former stadium crumble to pieces. The contradictions of this photo—a former star peering through a fence, a historical landmark turned to rubble, a touching moment emerging from decay—define urban decline. The rise and fall of an American city, captured in one brief, fleeting moment. A picture almost too moving for words.

Nationwide Urban “Shrinkage” and the Pittsburgh Paradox

This may be one of the few times that Flint, Michigan provides a model for U.S. domestic policy. Unfortunately, it’s kind of a dubious model. According to the UK Telegraph, the Obama administration plans to replicate Flint’s “urban shrinkage” concept throughout the nation, demolishing vacant homes and replacing them with open green space.

I wrote about the general premise of urban shrinkage a few weeks ago. The basic idea is that neighborhood blight (in the form of vacant homes) spreads like an infectious disease. It’s kind of like a tipping point; after a few houses become vacant and deteriorate, the rest of the block declines like a series of dominoes. Of course, there isn’t a whole lot of empirical evidence on exactly how the process works, but it’s pretty intuitive. Continued population decline, particularly in the Rust Belt, is only making this pattern more common. As a result, many civic leaders are shrinking urban landmass in order to offset dramatic population decline and increasing blight.

Genesee County in Michigan—containing the city of Flint—has established the Genesee County Land Bank Authority (GCLBA) to oversee the shrinking of Flint and other urban areas. The “land bank” approach targets areas comprised solely of vacant homes and other empty lots. The GCLBA then goes through a lengthy process of acquisition that hands ownership of foreclosed properties over to the land bank. The homes are demolished, and the resulting empty lots are “redeveloped, handed to neighbors, or returned to nature,” according to the head of the GCLBA. The dominant trend, however, is to return the vacant areas into undeveloped land and thus reduce the size of the city’s populated landmass.

Admittedly, I was a little flippant when I initially wrote about this issue (though, when am I not just a touch irreverent?). I’ve thought about it more, and I’m willing to give the Obama administration the benefit of the doubt—for now, at least. The plans for acquisition and redevelopment are so vague that it would be premature to levy any judgments. Part of me wants to see the rehabilitation and revitalization of existing homes and neighborhoods, but another part of me recognizes the utility of starting over. The real debates will occur over what to do with the newly empty green spaces. If—and only if—we can specify a clear vision of redevelopment, I might be able to get on board with urban shrinkage. If the plan follows a community-based approach, similar to the Dudley Street Neighborhood Initiative’s successful bid for eminent domain here in Boston in the 1990s, I may support the policy.

Still, I have some reservations. The Telegraph reported that the Obama administration has their eyes on shrinking 15 urban centers, including Syracuse, Cleveland, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh. The inclusion of Pittsburgh is slightly troubling. It’s just a little paradoxical to include a city in this economic recovery plan that supposedly has one of the strongest performing metropolitan economies (according to a recent report by the Brookings Institution). Pittsburgh has certainly suffered incredible population decline; in 1950, Pittsburgh was ranked number 12 among U.S. cities in total population, but plummeted to number 52 by the 2000 Census. That said, you'd think that one of the strongest metropolitan economies would be able to redevelop existing land on their own.

The “Pittsburgh Paradox,” so to speak, points to my underlying uneasiness with urban shrinkage. How can Pittsburgh—the supposed model for Rust Belt resurgence—require urban shrinkage? Either the Brooking Institution’s measurement of economic vitality is faulty, or urban shrinkage is a haphazard band-aid for urban decline. If shrinkage is part of our economic recovery plan, why does one of our nations strongest metropolitan economies need the help? Something’s not right here. I'm just a little weary of an economic recovery policy applied applied indiscriminately in cities with both weak and strong performing economies. If Pittsburgh requires urban shrinkage, other cities must require a lot more.

I expressed optimism yesterday in my discussion of the interagency Partnership for Sustainable Communities—a new federal initiative that coordinates economic, transportation, housing, and environmental policies in a single, unified effort. Yet “urban shrinkage” looks like the regressive counterpart to the Partnership’s progressive goals and proposals. Shrinking landmass without a clear plan for redevelopment just seems like a hasty, reactionary response to a much larger problem. We don’t build stronger communities by trimming the fat and pretending like it never existed. No, we create economically sustainable communities and metropolitan regions with innovative policy that builds urban neighborhoods. Demolition (read: shrinkage) can be a start on the path to economic recovery, but that can’t be where we stop.

Metropolitan policy isn’t a zero-sum game; we don’t need to destroy some neighborhoods just to preserve others.

The Genius of Interagency Metropolitan Policy

The Obama administration took metropolitan policy in an incredibly innovative direction last week. In what may prove to be a groundbreaking meeting, the administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency and the secretaries of Transportation and Housing & Urban Development all appeared together to discuss the future of American economic, environmental, and transit policies.

These leaders came together at a Senate Banking Committee hearing, working out the skeleton for an exciting new partnership. They set three important—though admittedly broad and slightly vague—proposals to govern a new, unified vision of metropolitan policy. First, they established “livability principles” related to transportation choices, affordable housing, economic competitiveness, and stronger communities and neighborhoods. In effect this “proposal” was less of an actual initiative and more of a basic mission statement for the new partnership—a pretty solid mission statement if you ask me.

The next two proposals were far more specific, and far more impressive. First, they set an agenda to integrate transportation, land use, and economic development plans to account for future metropolitan growth. This may prove to be a massive anti-sprawl initiative. Land-use zoning is a major contributor to suburban sprawl, as zoning regulations delineate where residential and commercial spaces are located. Suburban zoning patterns typically establish swaths of land for commercial-only use (which generally become strip malls) and others for residential-only use (which generally become dead-end cul-de-sacs). This creates car-dependent communities that are neither environmentally efficient nor walkable. Nor are they economically sustainable, a fact that is becoming increasingly clear as former exurbs transition into vacant wastelands. A more economically sustainable option includes metropolitan transit systems and mixed-use zoning. Indeed, this points to (arguably) the best aspect of New Urbanism and Smart Growth; mixed-use land zoning is an incredibly effective way to counteract the inefficiencies of suburban sprawl. This coordinated effort would increase mass transit across metropolitan regions, and facilitate walkable urban design so as to preserve a “community” aesthetic.

The final proposal was a plan to redefine “affordable housing” based on transportation availability and energy costs. This makes so much sense I almost can’t believe they came up with it on their own. Far too many “affordable” housing developments are disconnected from reliable transportation, thus negatively influencing their actual affordability. Moreover, many of these homes are incredibly energy inefficient, again affecting their actual affordability. The impact of this small policy change may prove dramatic: If energy costs and transportation access are figured into the cost of living, many so-called affordable housing developments may lose that government distinction. If this happens, the government would be faced with two options: They can either construct more affordable housing, or they can increase transportation availability and reduce energy costs. You can’t really go wrong with either of these choices, and I suspect they would take the smart route and do both.

In many respects this is scary "big government;" just another big federal agency looking to institute sweeping, nationwide policy. But this partnership also counteracts the inefficient communication networks inherent in most bureaucracies. Call it the paradox of big government: Sure, it’s government consolidation and heavily bureaucratic, but it also facilitates information transmission between departments with unprecedented efficiency. They’re coordinating their efforts, which is really the best way to make a substantial impact.

In my opinion, this is government at its best. With one unified, coordinated effort, they are planning to improve access to affordable housing, offer more transportation options, and lower transportation costs while simultaneously protecting the environment. They recognized a problem in metropolitan America, tied it to our continued economic recovery plans, and are taking steps to institute national policy. I can sum up my thoughts on this ambitious project with one word: Wow. It’s nice to have a former community organizer in the White House.

Environmentalism is Political White Privilege

PBS ran a special on suburban sprawl last week entitled “Blueprint America: Road to the Future.” The special profiled three U.S. cities—Denver, Portland and New York City—taking three very different approaches to metropolitan transit.

The special began with Denver and local political battles over a nearly complete highway enclosing the region. Opponents of the highway suggested that it contributes to sprawl and is decimating the environment, while proponents made the groundbreaking observation “Our population is increasing, and they have to live somewhere!” Basically, metro-Denver residents are dependent on their cars due to greedy real estate developers, federal subsidies for suburban development, and a general American “car culture.” And this dependency has had dramatic effects on the area’s quality of life and air quality. Thirty-minute rush hour commutes now take upwards of two hours, meaning more carbon emissions and more pollution.

Portland was profiled next as a region bucking the trend of suburban sprawl. When the city was offered federal dollars for highway construction in the 1970s, city officials instead invested in light rails and other public transit systems. White, middle class families were followed with cameras as they rode their bikes to the local grocery store and then to a neighborhood playground. Under Mayor Bloomberg, New York City—already very “green” by emissions standards—is following Portland and also making environmental sustainability a civic priority.

The common thread throughout the entire special was twofold: Sprawl has dramatically negative effects the environment, and better transit is necessary if we want to be a “green,” eco-friendly nation. White, middle-class families in Portland were quoted in the special gleefully recounting how they can ride their bikes to work, instead of driving. But what about folks that don’t even have cars? What about folks who live in neighborhoods spatially disconnected from job opportunities? These controversies over public transportation are uncomfortably whitewashed, and the only people we hear from are middle class individuals with the privilege to choose environmentally friendly lifestyles. Here we are, debating the best way to commute to work, when black male unemployment is 17.2%.

This discussion brings up the idea of framing—how we talk about social issues. The Obama Administration’s head of The Department of Transportation was quoted in the PBS special saying, “We’re thinking about transit more than ever before.” But how are they thinking about it? Are they thinking about it as a political move, a way to garner support from “green loving” liberals? Or is the conversation more altruistic—a way to help the country recover from the economic crisis? Or—and here’s where things get interesting—can it be positioned as a social justice, a social need for already marginalized urban communities?

In Lone Pursuit, Sandra Susan Smith—a brilliant sociologist at UC-Berkeley—discusses black joblessness in southeast Michigan, carefully analyzing job referral reluctance among poor African Americans. A cycle of distrust proliferates among the black poor in “Southeast County,” Michigan, thwarting the dissemination of job information through informal networks. She posits that a weak job referral structure at the individual level in Southeast County helps explain low employment levels for blacks at the group level.

Throughout the book, however, her respondents also noted the trials and tribulations associated with mass transit. Indeed, this is a hot topic in Southeast Michigan. Currently, state officials are split on plans to build a commuter rail from “Southeast County” (Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti) to either Detroit or Grand Rapids. Representatives from Grand Rapids are seeking to make their city the “center” of the state, whereas Detroit representatives are simply trying to keep their city alive. And, of course, poor folks just want a job, and a way to get there.

This is also a nationwide problem; social scientists term it “spatial mismatch.” The idea is that the place of employment is divorced from a group or individual’s place of residence. In metropolitan America, work has “disappeared” to the suburbs via de-centralization, while poor, predominantly black city residents remain constrained to residence within city limits. See, this is what’s missing from conversations about transportation policy, environmental sustainability and suburban sprawl. Poor people, particularly in marginalized communities of color, need jobs and a reliable way to get to them. Lofty goals of “going green” are well and good, but we also need better public transit for the employment opportunities of the public.

In the aftermath of the financial crisis, a plethora of media outlets have profiled newly unemployed whites from corporate America. Coupled with the conversations of environmentalism and mass transit, it appears that the public conception of the economy has been effectively whitewashed. The effects of sprawl are more than simply environmental, and the need for mass transit is bigger than the quality of life for middle-class whites in Portland. We can’t allow our privilege to get in the way of seeing who really needs public transit, and why they need it.

Drug Decriminalization and Racial Inequality in Pop Culture

Mass incarceration, particularly of black and brown folks, is a hot topic in the social sciences. Hell, it’s a hot topic in nearly every poor, marginalized, urban community of color. Harvard sociologist Bruce Western offers some of the best academic analysis of the carceral state in Punishment and Inequality in America. Western brilliantly details the absurd cost of our contemporary prison system as well as the significant toll incarceration has had on poor communities of color. True unemployment rates are hidden in the “non-economic institution” of the prison, as labor statistics ignore the very existence of prisoners. So, while black male unemployment reached an astounding 17.2% in April of this year, the true percent of unemployed black males is much higher, thanks in part to racial discrimination in the criminal justice system. It’s common knowledge at this point that blacks are more likely to be charged, more likely to be convicted, and more likely to receive longer sentences than whites.

Leaving prison produces even more hardship. After incarceration, men become “permanent labor market outsiders,” as their job prospects are reduced to unstable (if any) employment. Not surprisingly, these outcomes are racialized. Princeton sociologist Devah Pager conducted a fascinating study (“The Mark of a Criminal Record”) in which she sent black and white job candidates with nearly identical resumes to apply for low-level jobs. The results illustrated profound racial discrimination, as black candidates with criminal records were far less likely to receive callbacks for jobs than whites with criminal records. But that wasn’t all; in fact, black candidates without a criminal record were still less likely to receive a callback than whites with a criminal record. Her results suggest that there may be some sort of racial stigma attached to criminal behavior—a racial stereotype that all blacks are perceived as potential criminal offenders.

To combat these inequalities that are decimating urban communities and fragmenting families of color, Bruce Western offers two policy suggestions: decriminalize marijuana and eliminate parole violations for failing drugs tests. His suggestion to decriminalize drug offenses certainly comes at an apt moment in our local history. Given the current political climate in the state of Massachusetts—fresh off a 65% vote in favor of the decriminalization of marijuana—and The Wall Street Journal's recent report that Obama's new drug czar wants to "end the 'War on Drugs,'" Western’s policy suggestion may prove feasible in the coming years. Hell, even the right wingers are on board. Conservative blogger Ed Morrissey recently offered a glowing review on his website Hotair.com of High: The True Tale of American Marijuana, a new DVD advocating the legalization of marijuana. Judging from the blog post’s comments, advocates for decriminalization may find allies among the nation’s right wing base. Growing Libertarian leanings within the Republican Party only add credence to this shift.

So far, so good, right?

Of course, right wing support (especially of the Libertarian variety) only comes when such issues are framed as an attack on big government. If these policies are framed with racialized images, however, support may wane. Seemingly race-neutral political issues, such as welfare and criminal rehabilitation, carry highly racialized images in the collective imagination: With Ronald Reagan welfare became synonymous with black welfare queens; with George H. Bush criminal policy became synonymous with the black rapist Willie Horton.

I worry that drug laws would be no different. Consider popular culture. Movies, music and television sitcoms that depict overt drug use among white youths generally fit into categories of suburban dysfunction, 1960s-era nostalgia, or cautionary tales of “good kids gone bad.” Popular movies such as Traffic and Thirteen fit the suburban dysfunction category. In each, suburban youths from affluent families are lured into experimentation with drugs and are ultimately corrupted by streetwise black males. There’s an implicit assumption that these are “good” kids at heart, and drugs (pushed on them by black males) simply cause them to lose their way. The FOX television show That 70s Show, as well as the film Dazed and Confused, are examples of sanitized, white-washed images of 1960s era drug use. Here, the ‘60s represents fun, carefree, and safe dope smoking among white teens. The pattern is clear: In pop culture, images of whites engaged in drug use depict either wayward teens struggling for identity, or innocent youths safely experimenting in the privacy of their own homes.

By sharp contrast, popular images of black drug use are normally associated with drug selling or public drug use. Examples include the movie Friday, HBO’s The Wire, and far too many contemporary rap music videos. In this genre, black drug use is accompanied by violence, depravity, and predatory behavior. Take Friday. Sure, it’s a lighthearted comedy; but violence is central to the movie’s plot once Smokey breaks Crack Commandment Number 4 and gets high off his own supply. Moreover, when Smokey gets Craig high for the first time, they don’t retreat to the basement of their parents’ house, or even the backyard. Nope, they post up right on the front stoop, out in the open. And for all of the good things about The Wire, it still only portrays two types of black characters engaging with drugs: the dealer or the junkie. The dominant image of black drug use, in The Wire and elsewhere in pop culture, is almost invariably associated with violence or crime.

Here’s the kicker: While white drug use in pop culture is largely confined to the private sphere, images of black drug use are disproportionately relegated to the public sphere. Drug selling is blatant and prominent in The Wire, but private and controlled in That 70s Show. Private drug use is safe, sanitized and white; public drug use is scary, violent, and black. Think about how rare the converse is: Pop culture rarely depicts black youths as innocent experimenters, while white youths are rarely shown as predatory enablers or corruptors. It is this public/private divide where the work of racial inequality manifests. It’s not just race, but how race interacts with our conceptions of drugs, violence, control, and public space. This racialized popular conception of drug use pervades the collective consciousness and may undermine sweeping social policy.

Some conservatives and libertarians may favor decriminalization to further weaken the power of government—but, if pressed, might revert to age-old stereotypes and racist propaganda. All it might take is one commercial depicting (black) drug dealers out on the corner, corrupting innocent (white) kids. Get some financial backing from right-wing policy groups and lobbyists, and another progressive policy may fall victim to our nation’s pervasive, and damaging racial stereotypes.

If Western’s policy proposals reach the national agenda—and I think they should—a nationwide reconceptualization of the popular imagination is in order. In other words, stereotypes of drug use promulgated in pop culture must be confronted and realigned. A re-framing of national drug policy—and criminal policy more generally—is necessary. Progressive drug policy is vulnerable and susceptible to new Willie Horton-style images, and future policymakers will need to navigate this delicate terrain in search of greater racial equality.

Urban..."Shrinkage?"

The aptly titled website “100 Abandoned Houses” accurately assesses one of Detroit’s most pressing problems. The current foreclosure crisis has exacerbated a preexisting, citywide concern, and housing vacancies are rampant. With painfully vivid photos, “100 Abandoned Houses” illustrates the dramatic effect this crisis has had on Detroit’s housing stock.

A similar scenario is occurring across the country. But Michigan’s 12.6% unemployment rate certainly isn’t doing the Great Lakes State any favors. I’ve been upfront with my feelings about Detroit, so it should come as no surprise that I find these developments deeply depressing.

This housing problem in Michigan has spawned two very different reactions. The first follows a resident-led, community empowerment approach. The Detroit Free Press recently profiled a handful of Detroit residents that have bought foreclosed homes in their own neighborhoods. These individuals, including North Rosedale Park resident Marsha Bruhn, poured tens of thousands of dollars into these homes, fixing them up and flipping them for a modest profit. These residents care about their communities, and are doing their best to help in the face of daunting challenges.

The second approach is—I kid you not—referred to as urban “shrinkage.” Yes, “shrinkage.” I couldn’t make this up even if I tried. This urban policy of “planned shrinkage” has been around for a while, but has only recently gained widespread support. Essentially, the policy wipes out entire city blocks and replaces homes with green space. The city is able to counter decline by “shrinking” the city’s land mass. Decrepit housing blighting your city? Just bulldoze them and alter your municipal borders!

Flint, Michigan has heeded the call for shrinkage, and city officials are actively pursuing the policy to resist the recession’s onslaught. The New York Times ran a piece on their efforts a few weeks ago, quoting government officials who chose the policy as “a last resort.” A drastic measure was in order, they claimed. Tough decisions lie ahead, they lamented. Which neighborhoods will be “shrunk,” and which will remain? “It will be a delicate process to decide which to favor,” one city official acknowledged. Delicate…well, that’s one way to put it.

Flint’s proposed urban policy sounds a lot like Harvard economist Edward Glaeser’s disposition to urban decline. Glaeser suggests that economic vitality in urban neighborhoods requires housing that will continuously decay and be rebuilt. Detroit, by contrast, contains durable housing—housing that is built to last for decades. Durable housing decays much slower, and as such, impedes a city from the natural process of growth and rebuilding. If this argument sounds confusing, well, it’s because it is: Glaeser claims that urban vitality requires continuous, and cyclical decay. Sounds a bit contradictory to me. And it also seems to ignore that there are actual people living in these houses. You know, actual people that benefit from a stable—not fluid—housing market.

I’m no housing economist—which is part of the reason why I recognize the, shall we say, human aspect of housing development. And this is not exactly one of Glaeser’s strong points. His infamous article, “Urban Decline and Durable Housing,” originally carried the subtitle “Why Does Anyone Still Live in Detroit?” This title is worse than insensitive. It’s more than just a little offensive. This kind of logic—the same logic of “shrinkage”—effectively dismisses generations of history and humanity that defines the very pulse of urban centers. Not to mention the pressing questions: Which neighborhoods will be demolished, and who will make these decisions?

This type of urban “development” is not without historical precedence. Detroit once had a vibrant Black Belt, complete with locally owned shops and businesses. When the federal government needed to demolish a few neighborhoods to make way for an interstate highway, guess which neighborhoods were bulldozed? Well, it was…uh…a delicate process to decide which neighborhoods would stay, and which would cease to exist. Sure, marginalized neighborhoods with the weakest political power were quickly bulldozed, but that doesn’t mean the process wasn’t handled with care.

With 60,000 housing vacancies in Detroit alone, we can’t afford to simply bulldoze away decline, attempting to forget it was ever there in the first place. For Michigan, as well as the rest of the country, the question is this: Do we want to empower and revitalize our urban neighborhoods, or do we want to shrink and decimate them?

Our New Corporate Neighbor: Costco Comes to East Harlem

In Black on the Block, Northwestern sociologist Mary Pattillo analyzes black middle-class gentrification on Chicago’s South Side. In a strikingly poignant discussion of class-segmented public space, Pattillo describes the neighborhoods two main supermarkets: the Hyde Park Co-op and One Stop Foods. The two supermarkets are segregated by class; black middle-class newcomers are the only customers at the Hyde Park Co-op, while their working class counterparts are the only customers at One Stop Foods.

While the details may be different, this particular discussion points to common trend in cities across the country. Typically, a new Whole Foods in a depressed urban neighborhood signals encroaching gentrification. This development often precipitates the displacement of local corner stores or other cheap, bulk-food alternatives. Yuppie gentrifiers would rather shop organic at a Whole Foods than frugally at a Wal-Mart or Costco.

Gentrification in Harlem has dramatically impacted the community in the last five years. So when Costco announced plans to open a store on East River Avenue at 116th Street, many community members welcomed it as a positive development. Yet a baffling, elitist, and deplorable corporate policy has tempered initial optimism: Costco will not accept food stamps.

Say what you want about big-box development—the exploitation of workers, the displacement of locally owned business—but a Costco brings jobs and cheap food to Harlem. Yet when 30,000 East Harlem residents receive food stamps, Costco’s denial of their business is an emphatic dismissal of their very existence. Costco can exploit the physical space of the neighborhood, use residential streets to make midnight to 5 AM deliveries daily, but willfully accepts the increasing economic marginalization of the majority of East Harlem’s residents.

Costco responded with flippant arrogance that they simply couldn’t afford the technology needed to accept food stamps. Apparently they are unaware that the state provides all of the necessary equipment, free of charge.

The New York Times quoted Viveca Diaz, an East Harlem resident, on the situation. With striking clarity, Diaz astutely noted, “They were saying at one point they don’t have the technology. Very interesting. The corner bodega takes food stamps, and Costco doesn’t?” Well, Ms. Diaz, the former establishment cares about the needs of the community, and the latter…not so much.

Cultural Alienation and Gentrification in San Francisco

(Administrator's Note: This piece was written by guest blogger Steven Brown, an incoming graduate student in Harvard's department of sociology. He can be reached at ksbrown2@gmail.com)

San Francisco is currently engaging in an effort to keep black folks from leaving in droves. But apparently, this is now a new trend. According to this article published last Wednesday on TheRoot.com, this has been happening for quite some time.

The basic argument is two-fold. First, the author describes a common story of gentrification and under-resourced black folk getting pushed out by eminent domain, rising home prices, and shiny new luxury high rise condos. Secondly, and more interestingly, the author briefly mentions a sense of cultural alienation that black San Franciscans may feel.

Gentrification is happening, but that argument seems a bit too tidy. Just look at Philadelphia, New York, and especially Chicago where gentrification has displaced minorities on a very large scale for decades. Black people may be moving out, but they still represent significant percentages of those cities and most other major cities in the U.S. Using census data, a comparison between Manhattan and San Francisco highlights a few interesting points. Both are cities by the water of similar physical size and similar costs of living. Manhattan’s median home value is over twice San Francisco’s, and the cost of rental property for both places is about same, relative to cost of living. And the percentage of black people living in Manhattan remains steady, despite the fact that the percent of black people in poverty there is a lot higher than in San Fran (31% vs. 23%).

So why would Manhattan retain so many black folks even though may be financially just as hard, if not tougher to live there? Cultural and historical relevance. Harlem USA is right there at the northern tip of Manhattan, and Harlem will forever be associated with black cultural and political relevancy. And it's not just Harlem; there’s the Southside in Chicago and West Philadelphia (born and raised, on the playground is where…no?...okay, nevermind). To be clear, the numbers of black folks in all these places are steadily declining, but that cultural identity – one that is distinctly black – still strongly affects how we continue to think of these places.

Not to say San Francisco doesn’t have a black cultural center, but it’s not nearly as pronounced as in other places. This is complicated by the Bay Area’s history as a place where tolerance is more broadly defined, and not just so black and white (literally and figuratively speaking). And I imagine it would to difficult to establish such a strong presence when competing for resources, space, and attention with Latinos, the LGBT community, and Asians (Asians make up 31% of San Francisco’s population).

It can be lonely as one face in the midst of the crowd. And in such a small space, with a number of cultural and ethnic groups vying to establish their own thriving community, some groups will fail to be as strong as others, making the lonely face even lonlier. This isolation could be a pull factor exasperating the push factor of gentrification. Given the situation in San Fran, Oakland is looking pretty good nowadays.

I Spoke Too Soon: Athletes and Civic Engagement

Well, it looks like I might have been a little premature in my prognosis from last night's post.

My friend Shilpin alerted me to this article in yesterday's Detroit Free Press discussing Larry Foote's trade to the Detroit Lions. Foote, a Detroit native and former star linebacker for the University of Michigan (Go Blue!), discussed his desire to make the Lions a winning franchise and his excitement to return home to Detroit. Foote expressed unparalleled optimism--and committment--to the city:

“Detroit is on the up-and-up,” Foote said. “We’re starting fresh with the football team. We’ve got a new mayor. We can’t do nothing but go up, to be honest.

“But people have got to be willing to roll up their sleeves and get to the root of it and turn things around, and I’m definitely one that’s on the positive side of that. I’m excited. Just off the field, just doing stuff in the community and reaching these young kids and getting this place turned around.”

Don't get me wrong; I'm still pretty skeptical about the role of sports stadiums in urban revitalization efforts. And I'm also pretty worried about the low voter turnout in the mayoral election. But Foote's comments signal a shift in our thinking about sports, politics, and civic engagement. The business of sports hasn't done much for ailing cities, but maybe athletes can. Let's see if Foote makes good on his word, and maybe others will follow suit.

So Much for Civic Engagement

NBA Hall of Famer Dave Bing won Detroit's mayoral election last night. With former mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's arrest in August and the auto industry bailouts fresh in our collective memory, this is certainly a welcomed piece of good news.

Or is it?

Bing, who made a cameo in one of my earlier posts, will finish out Kilpatrick's term, ending on December 31st of this year. There's a few points of interest in this story. First of all, Bing is a former businessman, and his election rehashes old conversations about the idea of business leadership as viable political experience. Bing also won in a pretty tight fashion - 52% to 48% - and maybe there's a story there about split constituencies, or conflicting political alliances. But the telling storyline here is the voter turnout: 15%. Fifteen per cent of registered voters actually voted.

Look, I recognize that voter turnout is typically low during special elections. Hell, Bing will barely be in office seven months before his term is up. And voter turnout for the 2005 Mayoral race was only about 33% - certainly not impressive.

Still, with Kilpatrick's national news-worthy scandal and the continued decline of the city, you'd think more people would be passionate about this election. This low civic engagement points to what some social scientists call the low "collective efficacy" of impoverished neighborhoods. Communities with low levels of collective efficacy are less cohesive, less socially organized, less likely to exhibit social control, less politically engaged, and more likely to concentrate violence and perpetuate existing poverty. Detroit, on the whole, certainly qualifies as one such community.

A dew days ago, ESPN columnist/reporter/pundit/all around brilliant analyst Jemele Hill wrote an extensive piece on Bing that's worth checking out. Hill wrote about Bing's NBA career, his relationship to Detroit after retirement from the NBA, and his vaguely articulated "platform" (Change the business climate. Reduce crime. Focus on education). This is certainly a compelling story for ESPN, but how good is it for Detroit?

It's tough to say what changes Bing will make; it's an understatement to say that his policy platform is a little on the light side. Will Bing's election fix Detroit? Probably not. But a good start might be to invigorate civic engagement and get Detroit residents excited about the democratic process. Because they certainly aren't excited now.

Study Abroad in Spain? Try Detroit

The Fall of 2006 was a pretty tumultuous time on the University of Michigan’s campus. Democratic Governor Jennifer Granholm was facing (what seemed to be) a formidable challenge from Dick DeVos, and the campus was alive with discussion of the ballot initiative aimed at ending affirmative action.

Ann Arbor had always been a hotbed of sorts for student activism, from the Students for Democratic Society to more recent challenges of affirmative action. Unlike previous Supreme Court cases, in 2006 Ward Connerly and the Michigan Civil Rights Initiative successfully lobbied to put Proposal 2 on the state ballot, legislation that would ban race-conscious admissions policies and hiring at public institutions.

I was on campus at the time, marginally active with campus events (I’ll let you guess which side of the debate I was on). In the end, the Proposal passed with a strong majority, and the University was forced to augment their admissions policy.

At the same time, a courageous, brilliant, and charismatic young activist named Rachael Tanner proposed a unique program for her final paper in her Urban and Community Studies course. Michigan had plenty of study abroad programs, even a program to send student to Washington, DC. But what about a partnership with a closer neighbor, like Detroit? What about a…Semester in Detroit?

Tanner proposed the project in our class, received feedback, and hit the ground running. Just this past year, the program sent its inaugural class to live, learn, work, and engage with Detroit. Students are taking classes and work part time for a local non-profit, all while living in the city’s cultural center.

The program, aptly titled Semester in Detroit, was recently featured in the Detroit Free Press. I think the possibilities for this program are limitless, and future research may want to closely analyze its impact. If the program is effective at raising awareness and making a tangible difference, maybe this is something we can, and should, replicate across the country.

The Spatial Causes of Racism

Nate Silver is definitely one of my favorite bloggers out there. He is the main voice behind FiveThirtyEight.com, a fantastic source for statistical analyses of political trends and voting patterns.

The above video is from a 9 minute presentation he gave at a TED conference this past February. During the talk, he discussed the topic of race during the 2008 election. More specifically, he asks the provocative question, “Can we predict racism?”

From a strictly statistical standpoint, the answer, apparently, is “Yes.” While he doesn’t get into the specifics of his methods, it looks like he ran a few linear regressions to look at the association between individuals admitting that race was a deciding factor in their vote and voting for McCain. In states like Arkansas and Tennessee, there was a very strong relationship between voting against Obama and saying that race mattered in that decision, suggesting racist voting patterns.

Around the 6 minute mark, he gets into a fascinating discussion of why this may be so. You can check it out for yourself, but the gist of his argument is that racist voters tended to live in mono-racial neighborhoods (i.e. didn’t live near any minorities). This social isolation predicts (statistically) racist voting.

In the social sciences, we typical discuss social isolation in terms of the urban poor. The general idea is that the urban poor tend to live in neighborhoods of concentrated poverty, and this spatial concentration, in turn, isolates these communities from mainstream resources, role models, and social networks.

Silver’s analysis is so fascinating because he applies this same concept to white, suburban neighborhoods. He compares the grid-style format of streets that typically defines a city to the cul-de-sac and dead-end model of suburban sprawl. He argues that the grid format of city blocks facilitates interaction among residents, while sprawl spatially disconnects residents from one another. In a sense, land-use patterns provide a spatial determinant for racism. In other words, the way your neighborhood was built may influence how you view people of different races and ethnicities.

I’m not convinced that we can actually predict racism, but I do agree that analyzing land-use patterns and more equitable, sustainable urban environments could make serious inroads in our fight against racism. Check out the video; there’s a lot of interesting questions to think about.

Some Call it Blight, Others Call it Art

The “four elements” of hip-hop include DJing, MCing, breaking, and graffiti writing. While Afrika Bambaataa claims a fifth element (a vaguely defined “knowledge and culture”), it is the four main elements that symbolize hip-hop’s history as a cultural form.

The last of these elements—graffiti writing—has certainly been the most politically charged. Politicians, police, and community activists alike continuously deride graffiti as neighborhood “blight.” They have a point: tagging destroys public property and is often linked to gang-related activity and violence. Targeted arrests for graffiti writing are part in parcel with the war on drugs, as both policies seek to eradicate loosely-defined (and often racially specific) “blight” from our urban streets.

Graffiti artists have a dramatically different take on their work. They see themselves as part of a cultural movement celebrating a dying art form. On the one hand, I agree with community activists that desire “clean streets.” Their efforts are admirable and well-meaning. However, I tend to side with the graf artists on this issue, albeit to a limited extent. While I can’t agree with tagging a public school, the art of subway graffiti is remarkably vibrant and rich. The aesthetic appeal and artistic style of subway graffiti, particularly in New York City, is undeniable.

Martha Cooper and Henry Chaifant’s Subway Art beautifully documented the burgeoning graffiti movement that took over New York City in the 1970s and ‘80s. Their seminal book of photographs and commentary spawned a generation of interest in graffiti and its relationship to hip-hop. To this day, hip-hop heads still reference this book.

The above video is the promo for their 25th Anniversary reissue set to drop soon. Graffiti has largely lost prominence in the new era of corporate hip-hop, much to our aesthetic detriment. While the tradition of breaking lives on in contemporary hip-hop dance crazes, the significance of graffiti art has noticeably waned. The rerelease of Subway Art may spark new interest in graffiti writing, but it may also bring up old debates about art, lawfulness, and public interest. Either way, it’s healthy to keep the conversation going.

Reframing "Detroit"

I can’t help but have a visceral reaction to this video.

I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s just something about Detroit that moves me. Let me repeat: Detroit moves me. I care about Detroit.

My broadly defined “research interests” include the study of urban poverty in America’s cities. To be fair, I’m more interested in integrated neighborhoods than slums, but the general idea is that I’m interested in cities, in suburbs, in places. These research interests will serve as the basis for my career as a sociologist. Naturally, these interests suggest that I should care about metropolitan inequality in the abstract, regardless of the city. But I don’t.

I don’t know exactly why Detroit holds such a special place in my heart, mind, and spirit. Maybe it was my undergraduate education at the University of Michigan. My studies of history and sociology certainly had a Detroit slant. Maybe it was my job in Detroit during the summer of 2006, working for a non-profit housing and community development organization. Maybe it was my trips to the Detroit Institute of Art or other cultural centers. Who knows, maybe it was my trips to Comerica Park for Tigers games. Whatever it is, Detroit matters to me. I believe in Detroit.

That said, there’s something about this video (and others of the same ilk) that’s slightly unsettling. When people speak of Detroit, often there’s a sense of pride in deprivation, a feeling of redemption in despair, and a connotation of dignity in decline. In this video, there’s almost a weird acceptance of Detroit’s present state, as if Detroit is special because of its decline, not in spite of it.

While I applaud Eminem’s intentions in this video, we need to change the rhetoric we use when we discuss Detroit. We can’t accept urban decline. We can’t be Detroit apologetics, trying to wash away the fact that this city’s population is dramatically declining as we emphasize Detroit’s vibrant and unique culture. We can’t jump on the Detroit-bashing bandwagon, either. We can’t write off Detroit as simply the natural result of a city dependent on a single industry. And it’s not that we have to “take the good with the bad,” acknowledging Detroit’s vast wasteland of vacant homes while we simultaneously laud the city’s perseverance. This approach isn’t proactive, nor does it address the fundamental problems this city faces.

No, we need to be critical Detroit supporters. We need target the city’s problems, collectively, and work to fix them. We need to reframe the issue of urban decline, at once harnessing the tremendous will of the city’s populace while we incorporate the support of distant suburban residents. Our framing of the issues requires that residents of Livonia realize they benefit from a vibrant Detroit just as much as residents of Corktown. We need to recognize our shared fate and common purpose in metropolitan America. We can’t turn our backs on Detroit. We can’t accept decline, nor can we simply wish it away.

Some may call me an urban idealist, but I like to think Detroit has a shot. Let’s try to convince the rest of America.

Sports Stadiums and Urban Revitalization

Two coinciding events have put the city of Detroit, at least temporarily, back in the national spotlight: debates over the auto industry bailout and Michigan State University’s ascent to the Men’s College Basketball Championship Game, held at Detroit’s Ford Field. In the above clip from ESPN, a few former Michigan sports stars reflect on changes in the city and the impact of sports on civic pride.

The clip points to a very interesting relationship between sports and the economic vitality of a depressed city. There was some talk in the week leading up to the National Championship game about what an MSU win would mean for the spirit of Detroit, a city boasting a 12% unemployment rate leading up to the game. The implicit assumption is that the magical power of sports can uplift a city, inspiring poor urban dwellers to pick themselves up by their bootstraps as they find redemption, solace, and joy in their team’s victory.

This sports euphoria certainly has some merit. The scene at Shea Stadium in New York after 9/11 was an important moment that inspired a nation. More generally, the common love for a home team can cross racial, ethnic and class lines at precisely the times of greatest racial, ethnic, and class strife. However, the business of sports doesn’t exactly help the economic vitality of urban centers. In the clip, Detroit mayoral candidate and former Detroit Pistons star Dave Bing makes the astute observation that people rarely visit Detroit unless it’s for a sporting event. Such is the case for many cities facing dramatic economic decline--take Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Baltimore as just a few examples. The presence of a sports stadium does little to bring in sustained resources to these cities. Their spatial proximity to highways makes parking manageable and efficient, but it also makes fans’ stays brief. The fact that it’s easy to get to Comerica Park in Detroit also makes it easy to leave when the game’s over.

Some sports arenas, like The Palace at Auburn Hills where the Detroit Pistons play, aren’t even in the cities they represent. What about when a new corporate sponsor takes over the rights to house a sports team, what happens to the old stadium? We don’t even need to leave our example of Detroit to answer that question. When I was an undergraduate at the University of Michigan, two groups of urban planners spoke to my Urban and Community Studies course. They were discussing the fate of Detroit's Old Tiger Stadium, the now vacant stadium that became obsolete after the construction of Comerica Park. The first group of urban planners proposed a center for cultural activities and youth baseball leagues, while the second group wanted to use the space for high-end boutiques and shops. Each made a solid case for how the vacant sports stadium could aid in urban revitalization efforts. In the end, neither proposal fully came to fruition, as the city decided instead to demolish the entire site.

As much as one can argue that sports can lift the spirit of an economically depressed city, so too is their a strong argument that sports stadiums only add to the marginalization of America’s most needy cities.