Living with G (?)

In response to David Nicholson’s Sunday Op-Ed

Like Nicholson’s friend, I can’t wrap my brain around white people feeling comfortable enough to stroll down U. Street, North Capitol, or Martin Luther King Avenue. On a bike. The accumulated years of perceived rejection of everything I knew to be DC inspires more than a head scratch. DC was a highly segregated city of clearly established white and black (then colored, to include Latinos) neighborhoods. The metro stops were accordingly color coded in ways the map didn’t capture, but a simple ride on the Red Line--like holding paper to the light for a secret revealed--made clear: Cleveland Park: White. Fort Totten: Black.

Now white folks are getting off at Columbia Heights, U. Street, Takoma, New York Avenue. I'm really surprised by this development, because for years there wasn’t anything on New York Avenue that healthy white person (or any healthy person) wanted.

Gentrification is doing it’s thing around DC. No I don’t think it’s a conspiracy. I do think the country’s history of conspired residential segregation lends credence to black folks’ attempt to read into cowrie shells across the floor. Nicholson’s own wife was an unknowing participant in residential segregation by buying a home within a racial covenant. Banks redlined potential customers, white residents pooled funds to buy vacant homes before a black person did, real estate agents refused to show blacks homes in white neighborhoods. Given the history, is it really misguided to suspect a conspiracy here?

Whether gentrification is yet another creation of the multitalented Man isn’t the most unsettling aspect of this phenomena. The more interesting question isn’t why it’s happening but what is unsettling about it. Frankly, why does it piss me off? These are initial thoughts to figure that out.

It comes down to power. Gentrification is an exercise of power, and yet another declaration of the power some people have that others don’t, and that they have over others.

To move into a dilapidated neighborhood, have it made safe, habitable, and even desirable for your enjoyment after years of neglect when inhabited by other residents is an exercise of power and privilege. When you call the cops and they come, THAT's power.

Gentrifying neightborhoods--Shaw, Columbia Heights, Petworth, Mount Vernon Square, the alley behind my parents' house-- have been neglected by the all of the city’s functions for years, when they were black and lower income. The coincidental appearance of a white face and the garbage man’s suddenly regular schedule…maybe it ain't coincidence.

Along with the power to sway response time of city response time is also the power to sway and influence the culture of the city.

I often wax romantic on how DC has been a haven for blacks from more racially charged cities (though we have plenty problems in that area). Friends of mine would visit DC and remark, surprised, at the options for restaurants, nightlife, and shopping. They felt...comfortable, like they could catch a breath from running from the Man. It felt good to not be the minority anymore, to not have to wear a shell that protects from racism and ignorance.

Recently I drove by the Lincoln Theatre and noticed a long line of white patrons outside. Will the theatre continue to provide the black comedy shows, gospel plays, and hand-dancing lessons my mom goes to?

Let's not pretend our country, and cities have a history of integration that would lend my raising the issues fearing change unjustified. How did whites react to the possibility of cultural integration? Bombingham, remember? How have communities reacted to gays and lesbians in their neighborhoods? Fear of change in power, and change in culture and community is real. Of course, I don't expect to have to duck for cover, or caution white friends to do the same. We've changed our reactions. The sentiments remain the same. I do understand, respect, and utter the question, "What's DC changing into and where do I fit in?"