Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Thoughts on Gentrification

A few years ago, I wrote a short piece about gentrification, which I then cast into the No Man's Land of MySpace blogdom. In it I identified a few early signs of neighborhood change:

Stage number one: Starbucks infiltration. Starbucks might be called the great urban pioneer, since it bravely spreads its tentacles into even the most economically shaky territories of the city, with nothing to bank on but the hope of yuppies to come. Somehow, its other-worldy ability to sniff out upscalification is almost always dead on.

Stage number two: Joggers. Nothing spells gentrification like young, fit white people running around in tight pants with the purpose of becoming "fit." Once these types of runners replace the types who run around in street clothes with the purpose of evading cops, your neighborhood's authentic culture has sounded its death rattle.

The final insult: Restaurants with vague, one-word names. Read: Think, Toast, Piece, Smoque...the list goes on. If you spot one of these near your house, it's all over.

Yes, much has certainly changed since I wrote that, giving some of my words a sour tinge of irony. Who would have guessed that a mere three years later, the once great "urban pioneer" Starbucks, their sales plummeting, would be reduced to hawking instant coffee?

So I've decided to revisit the topic of gentrification. What does that word mean now, when whole condo buildings stand vacant in what were once deemed "up and coming neighborhoods?"

Essentially, my views on the topic haven't changed. I poked fun at it in 2006 because I saw it as absurd but not wholly malignant. I am not and never have been opposed to economic growth. It's hard to argue for the presence of large swaths of city land that are economically depressed and crime ridden. And yet, I see a danger in the unchecked onslaught of development, which I'll get to in a moment. But first, I'd like to talk about the often under-emphasized positive side of gentrification.

Something that blew my mind as a new Chicago resident coming from Milwaukee was the break-neck pace of change here. As with much of big city life, urban development--at least during boom times--waits for no one.

There are streets in the city that resemble fairground midways--businesses set up shop seemingly overnight, and perhaps stay in business or are perhaps replaced by more upscale businesses several months down the road. Or they expand with rapidity into neighboring lots, if those aren't already taken by condo-in-a-box developments.

The result of such rapid transformation is that you find luxury condos across the street from housing projects--which can be seen as integration, albeit a very odd-looking form of it (but in my opinion, any form of integration is a step forward).

In Milwaukee, by contrast, change is slow. Neighborhoods do shift, but they stay "in transition" much longer--sometimes decades. There are clear boundaries between "good" and "bad" areas of the city, and these boundaries are more or less fixed. Of course there are always a few brave developers building in impoverished areas, but even years after such gentrification projects begin, the neighborhoods sometimes remain rife with muggings and gun violence.

The ultimate results of this are a depressed downtown and white flight. To which I say, "Rubbish!" Call me a Socialist, but I am a city bird to my core, and I dream of the day when every American city will enjoy the safe, vibrant, metro-centric atmospheres so common in Europe, where city centers are the safest places you can be.

It isn't that Milwaukee, or any other mid-sized American city, couldn't make it happen, it's simply harder without extreme population density. A lot of what works in Europe works because the countries are so much smaller, and people have no choice but to compete for space, or find solutions to the lack of it. Chicago, ever-growing major urban center that it is, shares many of the challenges and advantages of European metropoli.

In short, the city's been growing for awhile, and there's only so much space in the city proper. As more people move in, they have no choice but to live further and further from downtown, and even outlying neighborhoods start to look trendy. It's the reverse of white flight. And more people living in the city means more money coming in, more jobs, safer streets, etc.

Still, there is a sizable downside to gentrification that's turned it into a curse word among the liberal-minded. Namely, that it often displaces the original residents of a neighborhood when they are priced out of their homes and converts human-faced commercial districts to elitist strip malls.

Since I live in a "neighborhood in transition," I've had the chance to witness this transformation first-hand. There was already a Starbucks near my house when I moved in--that was how one former neighbor knew it was a "safe" neighborhood.

Then a few hipster bars cropped up. The next year the first gym opened in the vicinity (or rather the first corporate gym, we've always had those storefront, dudes-only muscle factories). In the same year the Cub Foods was replaced by an expensive specialty grocery store. And finally, in the midst of the financial meltdown, my favorite corner bar closed its doors.

We're still not over the gentrification hump, thank goodness, and now that times are tough we may all be able to hold out from becoming the next Wicker Park for a few more years. But one day I will very likely be priced out of my neighborhood, and that makes me sad.

I like my neighborhood the way it is. I like that there aren't that many bars to choose from because it means the streets are quieter. I like that artists can afford to live here not only because I am one but also because it means I get to meet a lot of interesting people. I like that there's still a grocery store that doesn't give me a thousand choices when all I'm looking for is tortilla chips. I like that not all my neighbors are white. And I like that elderly people on fixed incomes can still afford their homes, because I believe in age diversity as well as racial diversity.

But I also like having a gym near my house, and I like the fact that it was built in an abandoned factory building that once stood as an eyesore, collecting garbage in its doorway.

Is it possible to have it both ways? Is it possible to retain the character of a neighborhood and respect its current residents without standing in the way of that shining American ideal, the all-powerful "progress"? These are hard questions. And I think the answers depend largely on the motivations, ethics and strategies of developers.

Development done well adds to, rather than tramples on, its local community. Smart developers realize that the character of a community is what draws people there so they strive to maintain that character.

The problem is that the gentrification process has a tendency to snowball into something uncontrollable when trendiness reaches the high water mark and the scent of money grows too strong to keep the pirhanas at bay.

That's when you get a Bank of America replacing a beloved independent coffee shop on a pedestrian-heavy corner in the heart of Wicker Park. Or something really special created by and for middle- and lower-income people, like Maxwell Street, is destroyed and then co-opted as a brand name for the city. And depending on your perspective, the neighborhood, at this point, is either highly desirable or a hollow shell of its former self. (I think my perspective is pretty clear, but I'm striving to be balanced.)

The thing about the city is, though, it belongs to all of us. To the artists and the old ladies and the developers and the people buying Starbucks lattes. It's not a static thing, but something we create together, that changes as we do. So if there are more artists in the city, you're gonna have more Pilsens, and if there's an influx of young professionals, your Pilsens are gonna become Lincoln Parks.

I don't believe any of us own any part of the city. Even if you live in a neighborhood for thirty years and it doesn't change, that's no guarantee it never will. And that's a good thing, because stagnation means death for a city.

And look on the bright side, if we stay in this recession long enough, the gentrification might start to reverse itself! Just a joke. But I do believe we can gain some perspective from this economic slump if we realize that the aspects of our neighborhoods that we value should not be taken for granted. If you're worried about losing your neighborhoods to the yuppies, support independent business. Every dollar we spend is a political act, especially when the dollars are scarce.

We can't stand in the way of change, and as much as we might want to, we can't stand in the way of people with bad taste. But we can lend our collective buying muscle to the independent, the authentic, the human. Let's support the hardworking people who give our city its wonderful character and maybe our neighborhoods won't turn into something we dread.