I first fell in love with Washington, D.C. in the
mid ‘80s while a student at Howard University. Then, as in now,
it was a vibrant place. The majesty of the monuments and museums,
the amalgamation of diverse cultures, and the ever-present hum
of political activity made it one great town for a young college
student.
However, I was most taken by the fact that it was
a decidedly African American city, and I don’t mean that at the
exclusion of anyone. You just got the feeling as you walked the
streets or rode the metro that Black folk were making things happen.
And in many regards, this remains true today.
Now when I visit the city from my current hometown
of Los Angeles, as I did a few weeks ago, I marvel at all the
development. Once boarded-up, dilapidated homes are being replaced
daily with renovated row houses complete with manicured gardens.
Empty lots and abandoned buildings are becoming multi-million
dollar condos at a frighteningly quick pace. Starbucks has replaced
the nearby 7-Eleven as the must stop for coffee, and strips such
as 7th Street near Chinatown and 8th Street in Capitol Hill, among
others, now boast more fancy restaurants, cafes and bars than
I could’ve imagined 20 years ago.
One thing I also notice during this renaissance
is the decreasing number of Black faces in front of those shiny
new homes or staring into the laptops inside those omni-present
internet cafes. In fact, during my last trip inside the beltway
I had a meeting at a really cool cyber-spot called Busboys and
Poets in the now revamped 14th and U Street area. On the way there,
what struck me most was the crowd of young white urban dwellers
bustling to and fro in a neighborhood once anchored almost entirely
by the famous Ben’s Chili Bowl eatery and the Lincoln Theatre.
The strip now looks more like something out of Greenwich Village
in lower New York City – sporting restaurants and nightclubs that
rival anything in the District. I even saw a multi-cultural collection
of kids playing T-ball nearby, which was a beautiful sight to
behold and wholly unheard of for that area when I lived in the
city.
For the record, this is not race baiting. No one
should be knocked, regardless of skin color, for seeing opportunities
and moving on them, and ethnically diverse communities should
be embraced. My question, however, is this: Are Black people unable
to lead the charge of urban revitalization, or unwilling?
The quick response is that this is an issue rooted
more in economics than race, which, of course, makes sense. Clearly
the infusion of well-financed, young white homeowners into these
areas fuels an economic boom that ignites growth on a number of
levels, transforming once struggling communities into thriving
neighborhoods. It’s equally apparent that, in 2006, we still deal
with the harsh realities of documented racism in residential and
commercial lending, as well as lingering disparities in wealth
relative to the white and Black communities. We know the mighty
dollar plays a huge role here.
But what of the growing Black middle class we are
constantly hearing and reading about? According to the Census
Bureau and other published reports, the D.C. suburb of Maryland’s
Prince George’s County has the highest median income for any majority-Black
county in the nation. And we have similar neighborhoods in select
areas throughout the country, so this is not an issue particular
to Washington, D.C.
Before moving out west, I lived seven years in Brooklyn,
NY, in the Fort Greene and Clinton Hill sections to be exact.
If you are not familiar, these two adjacent areas, both within
shouting distance of Manhattan, have historically been among the
hipper communities in the borough.
When I lived there in the late 80s and early 90s,
this part of Brooklyn was a creative hotbed serving, among things,
as home to director Spike Lee’s empire as well as the nerve center
for a cross-section of artists, musicians and other like-minded
types. It was cool, cultural and decidedly African American. In
fact, it rivaled Harlem as the place Black folk went to plug into
when they got to New York City.
These days, when I return to visit for work and
play, I notice the not so subtle changes. The neighborhood is
still trendy and fertile for the creative souls among us, and
it still beats with a pulse unique in all of Brooklyn, but it
is no longer a traditional Black community. The beautiful brownstones
that line and help define the area are being increasing filled
with young, white families.
DeKalb Avenue, the area’s anchor strip, where back
in the day you were lucky to get a slice of pizza, deli sandwich
or maybe a seat at one of the two Black-owned restaurants, is
now home to a dozen joints that serve cuisine from all over the
world. You can satisfy your tastes for South African, Thai, Japanese
(I’m talking Sushi here) and East Indian food all on the same
block, if you are able to dodge the white kid on the skateboard
zipping by.
And let’s not leave out my current homeport – Los
Angeles. That city’s affluent African American areas of Baldwin
Hills, View Park and Ladera Heights rest on a hill offering panoramic
views of the City of Angels. These areas, and those adjacent to
them, have some of the most beautiful homes you could imagine,
with meticulously landscaped lawns adorning tree-lined streets.
It’s
a wonderful feeling to drive through these neighborhoods and see
Black faces everywhere. However, the much rapped about Crenshaw
strip is just down the other side of the hill. This area, a combination
of residential homes and commercial establishments, is the heart
and soul of Black Los Angeles. Its Leimert Park section is home
to nearly all things Black and cultural in the city. But it still
does not enjoy broad support from LA’s African American community,
not like it should. It should thrive like a number of other non-Black
communities do throughout the city, and it should do so because
of us. We can’t expect this goldmine to go “unmined” indefinitely.
Again, the question here isn’t whether or not white
folk should move on these opportunities; it goes without saying
that they or any other capable group should. The issue is whether
or not African Americans are willing or able to do the same. If
not to an equal degree, than to whatever degree we can. We should
not bemoan revitalization, but endeavor to be a part of it.
Not long ago, actor/comedian Bill Cosby suggested
that the so-called African American underclass was not doing its
part to move us forward (whatever the hell that meant). In that
vein, I suggest that the ever growing Black middleclass step-up
to the plate as well. Let’s start ensuring that we are a part
of our communities’ revitalizations, and stop complaining when
it happens without us.
Also, I realize this column is long on problems
and short on solutions, and it does not string together all those
detailed stats on gentrification, bank loans, tax incentives and
shifts in urban flight that serve to help explain this issue.
We have scholars and social economists for that, and I know it
will require much greater minds than my own to figure out the
exact efforts we should undertake here. But a couple of good first
steps are to support Black businesses wherever they are now, and
to think about our own community when contemplating opening a
service or retail establishment, or buying a house or apartment
building.
As the current trend so clearly teaches us, even
the most underserved neighborhoods can turn; the question is can
we figure out a way to turn with them.
Christopher D. Cathcart is president/founder of
OneDiaspora Group, a media consulting company in Los Angeles.
He is also an acclaimed public speaker, and has written a book
on volunteering and mentoring titled “The Lost Art of Giving Back.”
For more information, email [email protected]
or visit OneDiaspora
Group.com.
© 2006 Christopher D. Cathcart. All Rights Reserved