Gentrification is Urban Genocide

Image by Tony Colón  

On October 29th, wealthy developers threw a Halloween party in the South Bronx to promote the luxury condos they are building along the neighborhood's waterfront. As reported by a November 6th New York Times article Bronx Pop-Up Art Show Prompts Criticism That It Invoked Borough's Painful Past:

"A South Bronx warehouse near the Third Avenue Bridge was transformed into a backdrop for a pop-up art show two nights before Halloween. Outside, fires burned in trash cans for warmth. Inside, there was a sculpture fashioned from bullet-riddled cars. Soon, guests were posting selfies and other photos on social media, some with the tagline “thebronxisburning,” co-opting a phrase that has served as shorthand for the dark days of the Bronx in the 1970s, when it was torn apart by arson, crime and poverty."

"Macabre Suite," a work by the artist Lucien Smith, was shown at an event last week in the South Bronx.
Photograph by Angela Pham/BFA.com

In his critique of the party, blogger Ed García Conde asked:

"What person in their right mind would say this is a good idea for the South Bronx? Can you imagine the response if we held a party themed with vestiges of the Holocaust? For people in the South Bronx, this was our Holocaust.”

I've been thinking a lot about Ed's comment, and while some, like developer and party organizer Keith Rubenstein, find the comparison to the Holocaust offensive, there are parallels that can't be ignored. 

Tens of thousands of Bronxites literally lost their lives in the 1970s, as landlords paid arsonists to set their buildings on fire, city government pulled back services as part of "planned shrinkage" and drug addiction and violent crime claimed the lives of many who were left in abandoned neighborhoods. In the decades to come, Bronxites would continue to suffer from some of the nation's highest infant mortality and HIV infection rates, as well as chronic illnesses brought on by over-saturation of factories, waste processing facilities, and a never-ending stream of diesel trucks polluting entire neighborhoods.

The desolation of Charlotte Street in the South Bronx, above, in the 1970s.
Photograph by Neal Boenzi/The New York Times, 1975

Now the South Bronx is considered an "up-and-coming neighborhood" and the feeding frenzy has begin. While no one is ordering mass murder of native Bronxites, what threatens us is quite literally the disappearing of people groups, as developers, landlords and big businesses push a version of urban renewal designed uniquely to benefit an influx of higher-income individuals with more expensive tastes. The collateral consequence is the death of mom & pop businesses, the eviction of local artists, and the eventual pricing out of any neighborhood residents who can't afford market rate rents. Eventually, the culture of a neighborhood and the actual people who once lived there are mostly gone. One need only to look to neighborhoods like Williamsburg in Brooklyn to see that this is true.

I am not a native Bronxite. My parent's first apartment together was in the South Bronx, they got married at the Bronx County Courthouse, and went to a Yankees game for their wedding reception. But by the time the Bronx was burning, my parents had moved to the Upper West Side, where I was born and raised. Seventeen years ago, I came to the South Bronx to work with young people and moved into the neighborhood, believing that incarnational ministry means living among the people you serve. I now own a home on E. 138th Street. Two years ago, my wife and I were extremely privileged to be able to buy a home through a HUD neighborhood-renewal program for middle-income, first-time home buyers. That purchase protects and insulates us against the biggest threats of gentrification. With a fixed 30-year mortgage, we won't be priced out.

Ruben & Ivelyse Austria after buying their home on E. 138th Street.
Photograph by Gary Gnidovic

But what about our family members? My father-in-law rents a room in a single room occupancy (SRO) house a few blocks away. My wife's aunt lives in the Mott Haven projects. My sister and her family rent an apartment upstairs. What about our friends who aren't homeowners who can afford to live here now but have seen rents rise by 25% every year, as the neighborhood becomes more attractive? What about the mom & pop businesses whose landlords are pushing them out in hopes of landing a Starbucks? What about the South Bronx artists whose lofts are now being coveted by developers?

There is a famous poem by Pastor Martin Neimöller, a German anti-Nazi theologian and Lutheran minister, that has served as a call to action and solidarity whenever humanity is threatened. I offer my own reinterpretation of that poem as it relates to gentrification:

First they came for the Artist Lofts, and I did not speak out –

Because I was not an Artist.

Then they came for the Mom & Pop Shops, and I did not speak out –

Because I was not a Small Business Owner.

Then they came for the Tenement Buildings, and I did not speak out –

Because I was not un Viejo Jibaríto living in an SRO.

Then they came for NYCHA, and I did not speak out –

Because I was not living in the projects.

Then they came for my house – and there was no one left to speak for me.

I offer this poem as a humble call to action for all of us, whether rich, poor or middle class, whether black, brown or white, whether renters or owners, to stand in solidarity for peace, justice, and community.

Photo courtesy of Atlanta Black Star
http://atlantablackstar.com/2015/02/20/10-us-cities-where-gentrification-is-happening-the-fastest/