brooklyn

Gentrification as Settler-Colonialism: Urban Resistance Against Urban Colonization

[Photo from Mike Maguire / Flickr]

By John Kamaal Sunjata

Gentrification is a ubiquitous phenomenon of political economy across the United States. Residential displacement, socioeconomic exclusion, political instability, homelessness, spatial transformation, and racial segregation coincide with the marked rapidity of the gentrification (Filion 1991, Atkinson 2002, Lees, Slater and Wyly 2008, Brown-Saracino 2010, Thörn 2012, Novy and Colomb 2013, Kohn 2013, Marcuse 2015, Domaradzka 2018). Local governments have appeared too impotent to mitigate the worsening effects that gentrification has on marginalized communities as urban landscapes continue their dramatic shifts and political struggles intensify within urban centers. In the era of increased fiscal austerity and decreased fiscal activism, local governments are better equipped to expand gentrification processes than contract them. This presents a puzzle for residents, organizers, and urban decision-makers alike about how to approach gentrification, especially when there are competing socioeconomic objectives.

This paper addresses the following questions: how do we contextualize gentrification as a political phenomenon? What are some of the political challenges that gentrification could present to cities? How have urban decision-makers responded to gentrification? How does gentrification contribute to what is happening on the ground from an urban resistance standpoint? This paper argues from a Marxist framework that gentrification (a) presents racialized challenges of density, diversity, and inequality; (b) urban decision-makers have largely responded by expanding gentrification efforts; and (c) gentrification itself may antagonize urban resistance movements. This argument follows from conducting case studies of Detroit and Brooklyn, where gentrification efforts and anti-gentrification movements have been observed and documented.

Three key findings emerge from the analysis. First, the process of gentrification starts with the racialization of a city’s inhabitants (read: the justification of their displacement) through patently white supremacist framing (Zukin, 2010; Quizar, 2019). Second, gentrification produces patently racialized outcomes for non-white people (Fullilove, 2001). Third, the dilemma of gentrification as a political process and the lack of meaningful urban policy responses to gentrification from local governments has given rise to urban anti-gentrification resistance movements. This paper has four sections. This first section discusses gentrification as a political process. The second section discusses urban resistance to gentrification. The third section analyzes the cases of Detroit and New York as sites of gentrification and anti-gentrification resistance. The fourth section concludes.

Gentrification as a political process

Gentrification defined

As an aspect of political economy, gentrification has been described and empirically examined by various scholars. Neil Smith has described gentrification as “the process by which poor and working-class neighborhoods in the inner city are refurbished by an influx of private capital and middle-class home buyers and renters” (Smith, 1996). Smith identifies the “rent gap,” a cycle of disinvestment and devalorization that establishes poor neighborhoods as sites of profitability, as a key factor in gentrification (Smith, 1987). Ipsita Chatterjee succinctly describes gentrification as “the theft of space from labor and its conversion into spaces of profit” (Chatterjee, 2014).

Gina Pérez comprehensively describes gentrification thusly:

…[A]n economic and social process whereby private capital (real estate firms, developers) and individual homeowners and renters reinvest in fiscally neglected neighborhoods through housing rehabilitation, loft conversions, and the construction of new housing stock. Unlike urban renewal, gentrification is a gradual process, occurring one building or block at a time. It also gradually displaces by increasing rents and raising property taxes (Pérez, 2002).

The previous scholars present valuable insights for what is a manifold political process with racial, economic, cultural, and spatial implications. This paper will rely on Samuel Stein’s definition of gentrification: “…[T]he process by which capital is reinvested in urban neighborhoods, and poorer residents and their cultural products are displaced and replaced by richer people and their preferred aesthetics and amenities” (Stein, 2019). Some have described gentrification as a net positive: it increases the number of affluent and educated persons, leading to a wealthier tax base, increased consumption of goods and services, and broader support for democratic political processes (Byrne, 2002). Others have posited that gentrification (namely, “residential concentration”) can have a beneficial effect but primarily for more educated groups (Cutler, Glaeser, & Vigdor, 2007), and may create job opportunities for the lower income residents, raise property values, enhance tax revenues, which could lead to improved social services via the wealthier tax base (Vigdor, Massey, & Rivlin, 2002). However, most of the literature points to gentrification as a net negative (Filion, 1991; Atkinson, 2002; Newman & Ashton, 2004; Lees, Slater, & Wyly, 2008; Shaw, 2008; Zukin, 2010; Brown-Saracino, 2010; Goetz, 2011).

Gentrification, as a multidimensional process, develops through some combination of three forms of “upgrading,” or renovation: economic (up-pricing), physical (redevelopment), and social (upscaling) (Marcuse, 2015). Up-pricing is the increased economic value of a neighborhood, namely the land it sits on.  Redevelopment, with respect to gentrification, is primarily a private undertaking (Marcuse, 2015). Upscaling refers to the pivot toward more affluent and educated people (Zukin, 2010). Within the United States context, “upgrades” take on a particularly racialized dynamic (Fullilove, 2001). These upgrades are led by capital employing racial segregation to secure private development (Stein, 2019).

Land is a key factor of gentrification

Land was a critical motivating factor for early American settlement (Campbell, 1959). Under a regime of racial capitalism,[1] land is a key factor in realizing both use and exchange values. Land is a both a “precondition for all commodities’ production and circulation, and a strange sort of commodity in and of itself” (Stein, 2019). Unlike other tradable or otherwise transportable commodities, land is a “fictitious form of capital that derives from expectations of future rents” (Harvey, 2013). Future rents are highly susceptible to demand- and supply-side pressures; therefore, the political economy cannot function without land prices and land markets for coordination. In treating land as a purely financial asset—an open field—for interest-bearing capital, it facilitates the circulation of anticipated surplus value production, bought, and sold according to the rent it yields (Harvey, 2018). The central contradiction of land under racial capitalism is its dual function as a collective good and commodity; a contradictory role as a site of social occupation and private ownership (Foglesong, 1986). It is on urban decision-makers to “reconcile” this contradiction for the capitalists [2] and workers. It is on the urban decision-maker to create the conditions wherein (1) capitalists can turn a profit; (2) labor power is reproduced; (3) infrastructure is maintained; and (4) basic welfare is ensured (Foglesong, 1986; Stein, 2019). The restructuring and redefinition of territorial foundations is central to the functioning private property regimes.

Private property generates dispossession

Private property [3] ownership exists at the nexus of racial capitalism. Robert Nichols argues that the “system of landed property” was fundamentally predicated on violent, legalized dispossession (particularly of Indigenous people) (Nichols, 2020). Racial capitalism reflects the “the social, cultural, political, and ideological complexes of European feudalisms” (Robinson, 2000) and institutionalizes a (colonial) regime of private property protection on that basis. Theft is generated as a recursive mechanism and “[r]ecursive dispossession is effectively a form of property-generating theft” (Burden-Stelly, 2020; Nichols, 2020). The institution of private property (especially and specifically in areas with Black people) manifests as a disjunction between the community’s use value and the exchange value of property (Pérez, 2004). Racial capitalism reproduces itself and a racist order through a series of supposedly race-neutral policies (Stein, 2019). In fact, race-neutral policies have been used to both “discredit and rationalize practices that perpetuate racial stratification” (Siegel, 2000). Modern American history has proven that racism can “coexist happily with formal commitments to objectivity, neutrality, and colorblindness” (Harris A. P., 1994).

Dispossession is justified by racialization

White supremacy is an underacknowledged political theory that articulates and structures the American polity. Even the origins of property rights within the United States are rooted in racial domination (Harris C. , 1993). It was the interaction of race and property that played a critical role in racially and economically subordinating Black and Indigenous people (Harris C. , 1993). Whiteness, as a historized social and legal construct, marks power and domination (Mumm, 2017), Blackness represents powerlessness, enslavement, and dispossession. Whiteness has, in various spaces, been “deployed as identity, status, and property, sometimes singularly, sometimes in tandem” (Harris C. , 1993). Whiteness is valorized and property ownership is an expression of whiteness; thus, property ownership is conflated with (white) personhood under racial capitalism (Safransky, 2014). Whiteness functions for racial exclusion (Harris C. , 1993) and capital advancement (Roediger, 2005). Racism is a feature of white supremacy and “its practitioners exploit and renew fatal power-difference couplings” (Gilmore, 2002). Dr. Ruth Wilson Gilmore has described racism as the “practice of abstraction, a death-dealing displacement of difference into hierarchies that organize relations within and between the planet’s sovereign political territories” (Bhandar & Toscano, 2015). It limits the life prospects of people it racializes, disproportionately burdens them with the costs of a “monetized and profit-driven world” while politically dislocating them from “the variable levers of power” that may well alleviate such burdens (Gilmore, 2002).

Racialized persons, especially Black people, confront the dual designations of superhumanity and subhumanity through their livelihoods. It is white supremacy that supports the synthesis of white domination through racial capitalism, across political, economic, and cultural geography. Black people are “fungible” in that they are commodifiable, their “captive [bodies]…vessel[s] for the uses, thoughts, and feelings of others” (Hartman, 1997). Black lives do not matter, the ways in which Black people’s bodies can serve white interests; however, matter a great deal. The settler-colonial logic of elimination and the white supremacist logic of Black fungibility converge around the question of gentrification (Quizar, 2019). The spatialization of race and the racialization of space is critical to the settler-colonial logic embedded in racial capitalism and the processes of gentrification (Safransky, 2014). Gentrification comes from a refusal of the would-be settlers to allow inconvenient, often racialized, inhabitants to prevent them from occupying a desired region. Therefore, much gentrification can be thought of as a “contestation of blacks and whites for urban space” (Vigdor, Massey, & Rivlin, 2002).

Urban Resistance to Gentrification

Gentrification has led to the demoralization of the people most directly affected (Chernoff, 2010). The consolidation of racialized class inequalities via accumulation through dispossession often emerges from the processes of gentrification (Harvey, 2008; Casgrain & Janoschka, 2013). It has also inspired anti-gentrification activism in response to the uncomfortable political economic pressures (Castells, 1983; Harvey, 2008; Kirkland, 2008; Zukin, 2009; Creasap, 2012). This activism often includes broad coalitions, across various heterogeneous groups and networks, united under common objectives that may apply to a variety of concrete challenges such as density, diversity, and inequality (Novy & Colomb, 2013; Domaradzka, 2018).

Urban resistance to gentrification has manifested as residents demanding a “right to the city,” wherein they attempt to assert their self-determination and autonomy by controlling their urban environment (Portalious, 2007; Pruijt, 2007). At various times and spaces, movements, organizers, and community-based groups may employ confrontation–resistance (insurrectionary/revolutionary) strategies against the state or participation–cooperation (reformist/counterrevolutionary) strategies with the state (Hackworth, 2002; Novy & Colomb, 2013). Tactics of urban resistance may include but are not limited to “the occupation of empty houses, demonstrations in favor of urban infrastructure, spontaneous celebrations, the rejection of zoning, demands concerning leisure, issues related to participation, self-management and alternative ways of everyday life” (Portalious, 2007). Any expression of urban resistance may provoke a response (or non-response) from the presiding local governing body .

There is a creative tension that exists between confrontation and cooperation strategies; some of the contradictions are antagonistic and some are non-antagonistic. The confrontation–resistance actors tend to be radical or anti-capitalist and favor insurrectionary/revolutionary postures with the local governing body, whereas the participation–cooperation actors favor a “reformed” capitalist system and dialogue with the local governing body (Novy & Colomb, 2013). Under the regime of racial capitalism, local governments prioritize and support the displacer class. This may intensify local struggles and heighten the socioeconomic contradictions. The power imbalance engenders conflict between the classes of displacers and the displacees. The city becomes a contested object “both for powerful groups and the grassroots” (Portalious, 2007). This contestation creates sociopolitical spaces for movements to confront gentrification as a force that operates for the benefit of the elites. For racialized subjects, resistance to gentrification may take on decolonial dimensions.

The Cases of Detroit and Brooklyn

The United States has a long legacy of dispossessing poorer people of adequate housing stock through racist urban planning and housing policy (Moskowitz, 2017; Stein, 2019). Gentrification relies upon legal, logistical, infrastructural, and technological capacities developed, maintained, and reproduced by the repressive and ideological state apparatuses of racial capitalism (Althusser, 2014; Stein, 2019). Local governments are structurally ordered to establish the spatial order (Stein, 2019); therefore, if the state is ordered under racial capitalism, the governing body must maintain and expand that system. Gentrification relies on severe urban divestment, which over time, creates “gentrifiable” building stock, or dirt-cheap real estate. This creates the incentive for urban reinvestment (Moskowitz, 2017; Stein, 2019). The history of American urban planning, operating under the logics of white supremacy and racial capitalism, is the purposeful spatial concentration of Black people and their subsequent divestment (Moskowitz, 2017). Few places exemplify the cycles of urban disinvestment–reinvestment like Detroit and Brooklyn. In both places, urban decision-makers have responded to the challenges of gentrification by gentrifying further.

Detroit as a site of gentrification and urban resistance

The post-World War II economic boom brought tens of thousands of Black people to Detroit where they sought economic opportunities in the industrial sphere (Moskowitz, 2017; Mallach, 2018). Detroit’s black population was 6,000 in 1910, 41,000 in 1920, 120,000 by the eve of the Great Depression, 149,000 in 1940, and 660,000 by 1970 (Mallach, 2018). The growth in the Black population coincided with white flight (Mallach, 2018): the city’s white population declined from 84 percent in 1950 to 54 percent in 1970 (Doucet, 2020). From the 1960s through the 1980s, Black families moved into the parts of Detroit vacated by former white residents (Mallach, 2018). As deindustrialization took hold, a (further) segregated landscape developed with the economic burdens falling disproportionately on Black people (Safransky, 2014). The Detroit debt crisis, along with the subprime lending crisis through “reverse redlining,” the Global Financial crisis, and fiscal austerity devastated Detroit’s inner urban core (Safransky, 2014; Mallach, 2018). Property prices rose steadily and home sales rose dramatically before culminating into a real-estate crash (Mallach, 2018). Sarah Safransky writes the following (Safransky, 2014):

In March 2014, the city began an unprecedented process of declaring bankruptcy. This decision followed Michigan’s Republican Governor Rick Snyder’s order that Detroit be placed under emergency management. Detroit is one of six cities in the state (all with predominantly black populations) that Snyder has deemed to be in financial crisis. Emergency managers – who are unelected – are tasked with balancing cities’ revenue and expenditure and are granted sweeping powers to do so. They nullify the power of elected officials and assume control of not just city finances but all city affairs, meaning they can break union contracts, privatize public land and resources, and outsource the management of public services (Peck, 2012, 2013).

By 2019, the U.S. Census Bureau reported the Black population at about 526,644 (79 percent) and the white population at about 97,825 (15 percent) (U.S. Census Bureau, 2019). When Detroit cratered, a space for gentrification opened. Detroit was described as a “New American Frontier” (Renn, 2011) and the incoming, usually white, residents were described as “urban pioneers” settling into “urban homesteads” (Quizar, 2019). For decades, the imagery around Detroit—the Blackest large city in the United States—centered around decaying abandoned architecture—the implication being “emptiness” and “vacancy” (Doucet, 2020).

Whiteness, in the Detroit context, acts as a tool to invisibilize Black residents, delegitimize their rights to spatially occupy political, economic, and cultural geography, and advance capital. Now that white people are resettling the city they had once abandoned, Detroit is making a “comeback” and it is the “New Brooklyn” (Quizar, 2019; Doucet, 2020). White people’s presence—along with their advanced buying power and aesthetic choices—confers “legitimacy.” It is white people who are “saving” Detroit from the failures of Black leadership and Black underproductivity (Quizar, 2019; Doucet, 2020). The majority Black population is devalorized (or dehumanized) in favor of the “empty” urban landscape in the “empty” city they occupy (Safransky, 2014; Quizar, 2019; Doucet, 2020). L. Brooks Patterson, the county executive of Oakland County, was asked by The New Yorker what should be done about Detroit’s financial woes. He answered, saying, “What we’re gonna do is turn Detroit into an Indian reservation, where we herd all the Indians into the city, build a fence around it, and then throw in the blankets and corn” (Quizar, 2019). The logic of elimination and Black fungibility are present even in the words and actions of one of the premier urban decision-makers. The racialization of Black Detroiters and the genocidal framing facilitates the processes of gentrification: accumulation through dispossession.

There is a long history of Black Detroiters engaging in political struggle, including ground-level mobilizations that connect America’s history of settler-colonialism with anti-Black racism, as manifested in Detroit’s patterns of gentrification (Quizar, 2019). Detroit’s Black neighborhoods have been described by anti-gentrification activists as “colonized Indigenous land and sites of Black containment, displacement, and resistance” (Quizar, 2019). The urban resistance movements in Detroit have used a blend of confrontational and participatory strategies. Urban resistance in Detroit has looked like residents, activists, and academics mobilizing research to counter positive narratives about gentrification (Safransky, 2014; Doucet, 2020). Many Detroiters have engaged in mutual aid projects and extended their communities of care (Safransky, 2014). Some have held anti- foreclosure and -eviction protests and demanded that negligent landlords “take care of land and buildings.” (Safransky, 2014). Some activists even engaged in more radical tactics such as squatting empty houses wherein families had been recently evicted (Safransky, 2014).

Brooklyn as a site of gentrification and urban resistance

New York’s Black population grew rapidly in the 20th century. It was not until the 1950s, the majority stopped living in Manhattan and shifted to Harlem (Chronopoulos, 2020). The legacy of redlining played a tremendous role in developing what would become Black Brooklyn (Chronopoulos, 2020). Between 1940 and 2000, the white population of Brooklyn declined by 67 percent; the Black population increased by 682.9 percent (Chronopoulos, 2020). White residents, “anxious” about the changing racial composition, fled for Staten Island, New Jersey, or Long Island (Osman, 2011). White Brooklynites tried everything they could to force non-white residents out, particularly neighborhood defense (Chronopoulos, 2020). According to Themis Chronopoulos:

Neighborhood defense included real estate agents and landlords who resorted to unofficial discrimination and refused to rent or sell housing to minority populations; financial institutions that denied mortgages and other loans to minority populations trying to relocate or open a business in a white neighborhood; white neighborhood residents who verbally and physically harassed minority residents who managed to rent or buy a property or youths who attacked minorities attending schools or using the public spaces of white neighborhoods; and the police that hassled minorities because they were frequenting white neighborhoods. In a general sense, neighborhood defense was an effort to maintain the racial exclusivity of white neighborhoods during a period of political mobilizations by African Americans demanding equality.

The legacy of neighborhood defense has ensured that racial segregation still defines Brooklyn today. White supremacy as structured through housing, financial, and employment discrimination—de jure and de facto, as well as the maldistribution of resources, public goods, white terrorism, police brutality, racially-biased sentencing, and a dearth of socioeconomic mobility, has had a lasting adverse effect on the livelihoods of Black Brooklynites directly and indirectly affected even to the present day. By the late 1940s, Black people were the majority of downtown Brooklyn, Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Prospect Heights, Bedford Stuyvesant, and Crown Heights (Woodsworth, 2016). As a result of persistent real-estate blockbusting, East New York’s population flipped from overwhelmingly white in 1960 to overwhelmingly Black in 1966 (Chronopoulos, 2020). White Brooklynites engaged in neighborhood defense and spatial separation projects to prevent Black Brooklynites from “spreading” to other areas, but by 1980 most whites had abandoned Black Brooklyn (Chronopoulos, 2020).

Today, Brooklyn has 2.6 million residents (if it were a city, it would be the fourth largest in the United States) and 788,00 Black people—more Black residents than any city in the United States except for New York and Chicago (Chronopoulos, 2020). Despite this, the movement of middle- to upper-middle class white people has contributed to patterns of racial segregation and gentrification (Wyly, Newman, Schafran, & Lee, 2010; Shepard, 2013; Hyra, 2017). White Brooklynites have disproportionately benefited at the expense of Black Brooklyn. [4] Black fungibility is exemplified; the contagion of Blackness was historically spatially limited to protect white Brooklynites’ capital investment before white flight but meticulously expelled to expand white Brooklynites’ capital investment via gentrification.

Brooklyn, beset by the political challenges of deindustrialization, gentrification, globalization, has been a site of smaller scale contestations (Shepard, 2013). Residents have resisted rezoning efforts by drafting alternative “community plans” (Shepard, 2013). Brooklyn has been the site of urban resistance from wide coalitions of actors, from organizers, artists, global justice activists, and anti-war demonstrators (Shepard, 2013). Brooklynites have resisted evictions by engaging in eviction defense at the local level, protesting the development of big box stores, and developed community gardens, and fought police brutality (Shepard, 2013). Overall, the erosion of militancy has undermined effective anti-gentrification resistance within Brooklyn (Chronopoulos, 2020).

Conclusion

Gentrification has restructured and reconstituted urban space, reproducing new zones of privatization, exclusion, and homogenization (Kohn, 2013) via the racialized logics of elimination and Black fungibility. It induces urban instability and crises at the global urban scale, as real estate developers search for creative ways to maximize profit through and above antagonistic forces at the local level. The limited geographic investments that are tied to geospatial localities creates local dependence for firms, local governments, and residents (Cox and Mair 1988). Urban instability and crises are inherent to racial capitalist political economy; however, local governments may navigate by ensuring that the most politically disempowered, typically racialized, persons absorb the brunt of the economic burdens (Smith, 1996; Stein, 2019; Burden-Stelly, 2020). Black people are disproportionately displaced and dispossessed by gentrification in urban spaces as they occupy an identity of accumulation and deaccumulation (Burden-Stelly, 2020). This feat of racial capitalist political economy is accomplished through Black people’s structural location as simultaneously indispensable and disposable racialized subjects (Harris C. , 1993; Quizar, 2019; Burden-Stelly, 2020). The disposability, exchangeability, and expendability of Black people via purposive campaigns of dehumanization and devalorization accelerates the gentrification process, especially in the cases of Detroit and Brooklyn.

The devalorization of Black people for urban private property has been a constant feature of American racial capitalism since Black people ceased being legal chattel (Harris A. P., 1994). Thus, cities are “saved” when white people presumably “rescue” the urban centers and the decaying architecture from “Black underdevelopment, mismanagement, and underproductivity” (Quizar, 2019; Doucet, 2020). So, gentrification within the American context, functions as a more benign form of ethnic cleansing wherein racialized people are evacuated from urban centers; it may be presented as the result of non-violent market forces despite evidence to the contrary. Gentrification exacts “spatialized revenge” against the inconvenient racialized inhabitants of urban centers (Smith, 1996).

Racialized people may develop class consciousness because of the disruptions created by gentrification (Cox & Mair, 1988). Class consciousness among the racialized may be an altogether natural affair as “[r]ace is the modality in which class is lived.” (Hall et al., 2013). This class consciousness may develop into urban resistance against the political forces that allow gentrification to continue. The mobilization of resistance occurs as cleavages develop among the urban political establishment and opportunity for successful urban resistance manifests (Pruijt, 2007). As gentrification continues, contradictions emerge; gentrification as a phenomenon possesses both the conditions for its expansion and its contraction. The success of urban resistance movements against what is effectively urban colonization; however, is not guaranteed.

 

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Thörn, H. (2012). In between Social Engineering and Gentrification: Urban Restructuring, Social Movements, and the Place Politics of Open Space. Journal of Urban Affairs, 153-168.

U.S. Census Bureau. (2019, July 1). QuickFacts: Detroit city, Michigan; United States. Retrieved November 30, 2020, from https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/detroitcitymichigan,US/PST045219

Vigdor, J. L., Massey, D. S., & Rivlin, A. M. (2002). Does gentrification harm the poor?[with Comments]. Brookings-Wharton papers on urban affairs, 133-182.

Woodsworth, M. (2016). Battle for Bed-Stuy: the long war on poverty in New York City. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Wyly, E., Newman, K., Schafran, A., & Lee, E. (2010). Displacing New York. Environment and Planning A, 2602-2623.

Zukin, S. (2009). Changing landscapes of power: Opulence and the urge for authenticity. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 543-553.

Zukin, S. (2010). Gentrification as market and place. In J. Brown-Saracino, The Gentrification Debates: A Reader (pp. 37-44). New York: Routledge.

 

Notes

[1] Racial capitalism does not describe a distinct permutation of capitalism or imply there exists a non-racial capitalism, but rather emphasizes that, in the words of Dr. Ruth Wilson Gilmore, “capitalism requires inequality and racism enshrines.” As a system of political economy, it depends on racist practices and racial hierarchies because it is a direct descendent of settler-colonialism. It is a translation of the “racial, tribal, linguistic, and regional” antagonisms of European feudal society, reconstituted for the American context. It profits off the differentiated derivations of human values, non-white people are especially devalued and their exploitation is a justifiable and profitable enterprise (see Cedric Robinson’s Black Marxism: The making of the Black radical tradition. University of North Carolina Press, 2000).

[2] Although the capitalist class makes up what Marxists refer to as the ruling-class, there still exists contradictions within the ruling-class about certain objectives and interests, especially with respect to gentrification. Neil Smith once noted this, saying, “to explain gentrification according to the gentrifier’s actions alone, while ignoring the role of builders, developers, landlords, mortgage lenders, government agencies, real estate agencies is excessively narrow.” A business owner may want their workers (who are also tenants) to have affordable housing because it reduces the likelihood that workers would demand raises. Real estate developers would dislike “affordable housing” as that puts a constraint on their ability to maximize profits on rental properties. There are a lot of competing interests to consider and an uncareful conflation of capitalist interests could lead to unanalytical analysis.

[3] Private property is not the same as personal property, which is almost exclusively wielded for its use value, it is not a personal possession, it is social relation of excludability. It is the ownership of capital as mediated by private power ownership that removes legal obstacles for one’s existence and provides an unalloyed right to violence. It is “the legally-sanctioned power to dispose” of the factors of production and “thus dispose of [labor-power]: property as synonymous with capital.” Toscano, Alberto, and Brenna Bhandar. “Race, real estate and real abstraction.” Radical Philosophy 194 (2015): 8–17.

[iv] [4] This paper, drawing upon Chronopoulos’ article, What’s Happened to the People?” Gentrification. Journal of African American Studies, 549-572., defines Black Brooklyn as “Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Bedford-Stuyvesant, Prospect Heights, Crown Heights, Brownsville, Ocean Hill, East New York, Canarsie, Flatlands, East Flatbush, Flatbush, parts of Bushwick, and parts of downtown Brooklyn.

Gentrification and the End of Black Communities

[Pictured: Court Street in Cobble Hill (Brooklyn, NY). Photo by Susan De Vries]

By Margaret Kimberley

Republished from Black Agenda Report.

Brooklyn, New York is the epicenter of gentrification, the displacement of Black people from cities in this country. Recently released census data shows that neighborhoods like Bedford-Stuyvesant , which was nearly all Black for decades, no longer has a Black majority. Bedford-Stuyvesant’s white population rose by 30,000 from 2010 to 2020 while its Black population decreased by 22,000.

The devastation has been wrought by finance capital, which has once again upended life for Black people. Money was taken out of the cities in the 1950s and 1960s, creating what was known as “white flight” to the suburbs. Now the same forces have reversed themselves and are putting money back into the cities, and Black people are the losers. Neighborhoods that were once afterthoughts and the butt of jokes are suddenly declared “hot” if real estate speculators target them for change.

The how-to of moving Black people out of a community isn’t difficult at all. The median price for a home anywhere in Brooklyn is now $900,000 . A well-kept brownstone in Crown Heights or Bedford-Stuyvesant can now fetch seven figures. Home purchases which once required living wage employment and thrifty habits now require a small fortune that Black people rarely have.

What is now called gentrification is the latest salvo in a long history of making the Black population disposable and dependent upon the whims of racist reaction and capitalism. Urban renewal, known as Nego removal, destroyed entire communities. Financial institutions used red lining to determine where a mortgage could be obtained. Often these rules were used to keep any Black person out, regardless of financial circumstances.

Those circumstances are usually tenuous. Living wage jobs are no longer plentiful, as the same finance capital interests sent manufacturing jobs to other countries, leaving nothing but low wage jobs or even so-called gig work, which guarantees nothing but the precarity that the system demands.

Gentrification even impacts the criminal justice system. An increasingly white jury pool in Brooklyn means that defendants, mostly people of color, are more likely to be convicted. Civil cases are less likely to be decided in favor of plaintiffs and awards are smaller as the borough’s income and education levels rise.

Generations of culture are being lost, families are dispersed, and even homesellers who can make the proverbial killing are saddened that their good fortune only accelerates the process of displacement. Everyone laments the process but they are silenced because their losses are rarely acknowledged. We are told that people have the right to live where they want. But that right exists only for those with access to lots of money. The average Black working person depends on a salary. Even those with higher incomes don’t have access to cash or to a family legacy of wealth, and they are automatically out of the running.

The problem of course is capitalism itself. Black people shouldn’t be blamed for not pulling themselves by imaginary bootstraps when the paths to success are closed to them by discrimination and when the rules they were told to follow are suddenly changed. Even a college education is no longer a ticket to success. Student loan debt is a burden to people who believed they were helping themselves when they took on what was once a key to success. Black college graduates now start off their lives deeply indebted while also relying on incomes that are less than those of their white counterparts. They are worse off than their parents’ generation and they will be left out of home ownership and other opportunities they thought they would have.

Of course Brooklyn and Harlem are less and less Black. Washington DC, once known as Chocolate City, is now more of a cafe au lait city as its Black population is no longer in the majority. The political system offers no solutions. Real estate interests are big political donors, and they decide who will and who will not be in office. Politicians won’t bite the hands that feed them and people who expected to get what they were promised if they played by the rules are left out of contention.

At the very least we can name and shame the bankers and the developers and the craven politicians. They are causing the deaths of communities and the destruction of a people. There should also be no hesitation in naming racism as the culprit of Black peoples problems. Capitalism and racism make one gigantic, two-headed monster behaving as it always has. No one should shrink from pointing out that fact.

Margaret Kimberley’s Freedom Rider column appears weekly in BAR, and is widely reprinted elsewhere. She is the author of Prejudential: Black America and the Presidents  . Her work can also be found at patreon.com/margaretkimberley. Ms. Kimberley can be reached via e-Mail at Margaret.Kimberley(at)BlackAgendaReport.com. 

Young, Gifted, and Black: Art's Power for the People

By Corinna Lotz

Outside the door opening up to the Soul of a Nation exhibition at Tate Modern screens offer vintage news footage of Black leaders Martin Luther King, Stokely Carmichael, James Baldwin, Malcolm X and Angela Davis.

These men and women - two of whom were assassinated - shaped the political landscape of the 1960s and 1970s. The echo of their voices lends resonance to Nina Simone's call for artists to reflect their times.

In the wake of white supremacist brutality in Ferguson and Charlottesville, revisiting the Black power movement in America has gained a new urgency.

Soul of a Nation shows how artists were swept up in the struggle against the oppression of the institutionally racist US state. Through determined resistance, self-organisation, self-education and study of revolutionary theory, the movement and its artists asserted the possibility of a non-racist and revolutionary culture.

Support for Black power arose out of frustration with the pacifist orientation of the Civil Rights movement led by Martin Luther King. Leaders like Malcolm X called for justice "by any means necessary".

Bobby Seale and Huey Newton founded the Black Panther Party in October 1966 to defend victims of police violence. The party championed Black self-determination. At the same time, its 10-point programme was distinctly anti-capitalist and socialist. It appealed to all oppressed and working class people to unite against the ruling classes and the state.

But the US state struck back. Under its chief, J Edgar Hoover, the FBI's counter intelligence programme (COINTELPRO) targeted Black Panther leaders. Police backed by FBI agents murdered Black Panther leaders around the country. Amongst the first to be killed in this way was the BPP's 21-year-old deputy chair, the talented and popular organiser, Fred Hampton. After being drugged by an FBI agent, Hampton was shot whilst asleep in his bed. It was an act of extreme brutality commemorated by artist Dana C Chandler in his reconstruction Fred Hampton's Door.

David Hammons' multi-media Injustice Case (1970) leaps out of the wall: shadowy body marks move around like ghostly x-rays on a white background, framed by the Stars and Stripes. Hammons used imprints of his own body on paper in this cry of anger against the treatment of Black Panther Party co-founder Bobby Seale. Seale was bound and gagged by the trial judge when he was accused of conspiracy after anti-war demonstrations during the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago.

Emory Douglas became the Panthers' Minister of Culture designing a remarkable series of propaganda posters and back covers for The Black Panther newspaper. Large-scale outdoor murals gave artists a chance to reach out to large numbers of people. The famous Wall of Respect, which 14 artists painted on a derelict building in Chicago's South Side in 1967, commemorated Black heroes and heroines including Muhammad Ali, Aretha Franklin and Martin Luther King. It was part of a nation-wide mural movement.

Black and Asian photographers made a special contribution. They celebrated the streets and inhabitants of Harlem as well as engaging in more abstract and lyrical subjects - musicians and singers in performance, still lives and nudes. Just waiting to be re-discovered is a 1955 photo book, The Sweet Flypaper of Life. It is a miniature gem of a story by Langston Hughes accompanied by Roy DeCarava's photographs.

Controversies arose about whether Black art had to be figurative or openly propagandist or whether the artist could work in an abstract idiom. Some like Jack Whitten used abstraction to pay homage to Malcolm X and African American history. British-Guyanese painter, Frank Bowling, took part in these debates. His magisterial Middle Passage features in the second to last space. A superb display of his work is currently at Munich's Haus der Kunst .

The last space at Tate Modern takes on a new spirit of joy in the inventiveness of Lorraine Grady who involved hundreds of people on a parade celebrating Harlem's African American Day Parade.

This is a knock-out show. Go and see it.


Soul of a Nation: Art in the Age of Black Power will be on display at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Arkansas at the beginning of 2018 and at the Brooklyn Museum in New York from September 18, 2018.


This article was originally published at the Real Democracy Movement

Art, Race, and Gender: An Interview with Son of Baldwin

By Devon Bowers

Below is a transcript interview I had with the founder and operator of the Facebook page, Son of Baldwin, where we discuss comic books as a political medium and also as it relates to and in many ways reflects the current racial and gender structures we see in society.



What made you interested in comics? For me, personally, comics were an extension of my interest and enjoyment of animation.

My father bought me my very first comic books when I was four years old and I was hooked instantaneously. At that point, I had already been introduced to super heroes via the 1973 Super Friends cartoon and then the 1975 Wonder Woman television series. I was fascinated with the idea of these larger-than-life characters with incredible powers who used those powers to protect defenseless people from the evil and corrupt. That resonated with me on a primal level. Forty years later, it still does.

Comic books are the reason I'm a writer today. My earliest writings were me attempting to create my own superhero stories. Additionally, two superheroes in particular played a major role in the shaping of the very unsophisticated political consciousness of my childhood:Wonder Woman and her black sister, Nubia. Wonder Woman comics were filled with stories that touched on very basic, elementary feminist principles. And with the introduction of Nubia, a very clumsy race awareness was brought to the fore. Both impacted me in ways that I can't fully articulate, but suffice to say, they were my first child-like understandings of identity.

The fact that these were female characters was quite important. I wasn't drawn to Superman orBatman, or even Black Lightning and Black Panther in the same way. I believe that I was rejecting, on some subconscious level, the narrowness and rigidness of a particular brand of masculinity and the increasing and needless violence that came along with it. Wonder Woman and Nubia-with their bold strength, unabashed femininity, and desire to teach first and punch only if they had no other choice-seemed more balanced and free. The escapist fantasies I had with them allowed me the room to safely explore other, queerer aspects of myself, aspects that I was only beginning to become aware of and understand. At four years old, I couldn't know that this is what was happening, but looking back, it makes a great deal of sense.


Given the fact that so many movies and shows are flourishing due to diversity, why don't you think that companies don't have more diverse characters, if for no other reason than to cash in?

There are a great number of experts, theorists, and thinkers who believe racism, sexism, and other forms of institutional bigotry are tied to economics. The prevailing wisdom goes something like: to rid ourselves of these evils, we must disconnect them from their economic incentive; we must make bigotry unprofitable. But what that class analysis fails to contend with are the psychological benefits of bigotry. Bigoted ideology helps oppressive groups feel good about their actions, beliefs, practices, and thoughts. It warps their perception of reality so that any evidence contrary to their false ideas of supremacy are discarded and discounted. They'll invent flimsy excuses to uphold the status quo in the face of utter ruin. This benefit is separate from economics. It lives in that mental and emotional realm that allows poor white people, for example, to say: "I may be poor, but at least I'm not black!" or straight black people to say, "I may be black, but at least I'm not queer."

So when the research shows that inclusive media is actually more profitable than exclusive media , they regard that data as suspect and reject it. Simultaneously, when the exclusive media they promote fails financially, they behave as though they're baffled in regard to why that might be and continue to make more of the same stuff in the face of utter failures. As a last resort, they might test the research by releasing inclusive media, but that's always a game of gotcha. If the media does well, they say it's a fluke. If it does poorly, then it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

It doesn't matter if what they thought was inclusive was actually tokenism dressed in offensive stereotypes. It doesn't matter how many inclusive forms of media do well or how many exclusive forms of media fail. The bigot isn't operating from a logical, rational, common-sense perspective. Even the capitalist bigot will choose losing money over allowing marginalized peoples and perspectives centralized locations in the production of media-especially marginalized peoples and perspectives they can't control.


Would you say that comics can be used effectively as a means of political engagement on some level?

Absolutely. I'd be loath to give my nieces and nephews a comic book without first reading it and then reading it with them, though. Many comic books contain really toxic messages about race, gender, gender identity, sexuality, disability, etc. I think comic books politically engage children in ways that I find abhorrent. Most comics teach kids that physical violence is the way to solve most problems; that women should always be subject to the gaze and whims of men; that queer people don't exist, or if they do, it's as the strange punchline or comic relief; that being disabled is the worst thing in the world to be and must be "corrected"; that all races should be subordinate to the white race, and so on. It's very, very rare that I come across comics that I would give to the children in my family (Princeless is a pretty good one). But I do find that my adult friends and family are politically engaged with the comic books they read. Mostly though, they, like me, find themselves in opposition to the overt and covert sociopolitical messages in them. Most mainstream comic books, I'm convinced, are created for white, heterosexual, cisgender, non-disabled men-which makes sense since that demographic, by and large, is the one creating them.


What are your thoughts on the fact that Scarlett Johansson is playing Major Motoko in an upcoming Ghost in the Shell movie ? Do you think that this is being used as a ploy of sorts to get people from criticizing Marvel for not creating a standalone Black Widow movie?

Scarlett Johansson to be playing an Asian character is blatant racism; it's yellowface. There's just no other way for me to view it. It's bold and proud racism masquerading as a necessary casting choice. Racists will always try to justify their racism and, in the justification, attempt to remove the racism label: "It was an economic decision! And Johansson is popular, so…!" They say that as though either of those plea cops shield them from the racist label. They don't. Racism is racism irrespective of the "justification."

There's just no way in the world I will see Ghost in the Shell without an Asian actor in the lead role. Period. The end. That goes for Doctor Strange, too. Ain't no way I'm supporting that film either. My response to Hollywood racism is to do everything in my power to ensure that their racist products fail. Not that they'd ever learn their lesson: How many Exodus' or Gods of Egypts have to flop before they get it? I learned that they don't want to get it. They dismiss my views by calling me a SJW (social justice warrior)-a term that they seem to think is a slur, which reveals much more about them than it does about me-and whining about how hard it is not to be a bigot.

So instead of trying to persuade bigots why it's wrong to be bigots, I give my money to those who already know why. That's why I make it my business to support ARRAY.

As far as a Black Widow stand-alone film , I don't think there's any way Marvel can protect itself from that criticism. There is no sleight-of-hand they can pull that could distract anyone from something so obviously and egregiously sexist.


Regarding the role of women in the comic book industry, would you say that there is some room for women in the industry in terms of women taking the lead in creating and producing comics?

I wish I could say yes. The industry is so incredibly hostile to women, though. Like openly hostile; so openly that it seems almost built into the industry's design.

For example, there's this situation at DC Entertainment where one of the senior editors has been repeatedly accused of sexual harassment-for years and years, by many women-and only now, after one woman spoke publicly and other survivors of this man's behavior spoke up and social media got a hold of their testimonies-is DC "investigating." And they made sure to use DC Entertainment Diane Nelson to make the public statement about the investigation in an oh-so-cynical Public Relations 101 stunt move. Like that wasn't absolutely transparent. It's almost like if the public never found out about the allegations, DC would have been content with allowing it to continue, like sexual harassment is a normal part of their professional culture.

And it's not just the publishers; it's the audience, too. Women have complained of harassment and worse at comic conventions and other comic-related spaces including comic book retail stores. And don't venture into the comment sections at every comic book news site or message board. Misogyny is a staple. If you were a woman, would you feel welcome in such a vicious environment?

And it's a shame that this is the state of the industry because there are so many talented female creators and eager female readers who could help boost the industry's lagging sales-especially DC's, whose market share continues to shrink.


I find it strange in some ways (though in some ways not), that in many cartoons such as Justice League Unlimited that have strong, well-liked female characters such as Vixen and Hawkgirl and yet people seem to think that movies or shows based on those characters wouldn't succeed. Why would you say that is?

The answer is bigotry. Bigots cannot understanding centering anything outside of their identity sphere. It doesn't matter how many times Batman, Spider-Man, or Superman fail, they will be given multiple chances to succeed. Because they are perceived as having inherent value due to merchandising, etc. But if Vixen was given as many chances to find her stride as Batman, Spider-Man, and Superman have over these many decades, maybe she would eventually find her popularity as well. Though I must say, Vixen comes out of a kind of stereotype about black women's sexuality and womanhood; a white, patriarchal gaze which regards it as animalistic, base, degenerate, evil, and wayward. Vixen needs a black woman writer to redeem and revitalize her, and remove her from the clutches of the white supremacist sensibility that imagined her. There's a dope character in there somewhere, but a black woman's vision is needed to realize it.


How are cartoons used to enforce gender roles? I say this as the show Young Justice was canceled by DC as they thought that women wouldn't purchase toys of the largely male cast. ( http://io9.gizmodo.com/paul-dini-superhero-cartoon-execs-dont-want-largely-f-1483758317 )

It's funny you should ask this. I just wrote an essay about a superhero cartoon called DC Super Hero Girls for The Middle Spaces that explores, in some ways, the function of cartoons.

What I've come to understand is that most American media aimed at children is propaganda designed to enforce very conservative and harmful ideas about class, disability, gender, gender identity, nationality, race, sexuality, and Otherness in general. There are some exceptions ( Steven Universe may be one, though I have some minor issues with that show as well that I hope someone can correct; but that's the topic of another conversation). But for the most part, this media is attempting to indoctrinate children into becoming a very specific kind of citizen, a very specific kind of laborer, a very specific kind of taxpayer, a very specific kind of soldier, to practice a very specific kind of religion, to form a very specific kind of family-and all of those things lean noticeably to the right.

That's why we have toy commercials where only boys play with racing cars and only girls play with dolls. Shit, we even call boys' dolls "action figures" to ensure that the line between genders is solidly drawn. Cartoons, which are little more than 15- and 30-minute commercials for toys and games, are design to reinforce these outdated and limiting notions. And, unfortunately, adults have been indoctrinated far longer than children. So most adults act as the police force ensuring their children absorb these restrictive, reductive ideas.


Why do you think that so many people who are into comics want to keep the entire medium to a small few, denigrating people who are just learning about the comics or who became interests in them via the movies as not being 'true fans?' Doesn't that hurt them in a sense as a major reason comic book movies were/are being made is because of those people who haven't yet/don't read the comics?

People, I've come to understand, are afraid of change. We become anxious when we perceive that something might change because we allowed some other group to be included. The comic book fanatic that denigrates new readers because they think the new readers might cause the industry to alter its priorities and storytelling to accommodate the new reader has much in common with the xenophobe who wants to build a wall at the southern border to keep Mexicans out of the United States because they think the Mexicans will "steal their jobs." Those fears are family. They live together. And they will, thankfully, die together. It's inevitable. They're scared of that, too.


What comics/graphic novels would you say had an impact on you on a personal level and why did they have such a major impact? [For me, I would say Solanin, Blankets, and Not Simple.]

I love this question. There are a few. I tend to like comic books/graphic novels that make me think, that make me question things, that encourage me to envision a better world and a better way of life, and invite me to be a better human being:

Erika Alexander and Tony Puryear's Concrete Park is the very first comic book/graphic novel that I've ever read about people of color that wasn't plagued by the white gaze. It's the very first comic book I've encountered in which people of color are centralized, are the default, belong in the landscape, are the norm. It's the very first comic book that I felt didn't ask permission to exist in this state. It avoids stereotypes. It allows its characters the full realm of humanity and is unapologetic in allowing its Blackness to begin with a capital B. And it's a Blackness that wasn't imagined by white folks who listen to rap music and had a black roommate in college so now they think they're experts on black people even though all they can manage to conjure is black pathology. With beautiful writing and beautiful art, this comic, more than any other, provides a way for me to envision fully realized black characters in my own stories.

Phil Jimenez 's Otherworld was such a smart examination of sociopolitical hierarchy. The backdrop was Celtic myth and science fiction, but the heart of the story was about the lovelessness that defines contemporary conservative ideology and how it can only lead to human extinction. Art wise, every page is a masterpiece. Every detail is rendered meticulously. And the colors were outrageous. The series only lasted seven issues when it was scheduled to go for 12. So I never got to read the conclusion, but what I did read impacted my personal politics in a very profound way.

Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie's Young Avengers broke all of the rules in terms of narrative and visual storytelling, and did so with elegance, grace, and aplomb. They literally broke the boundaries of the panels in their stories-the art often allowed the characters to actually use the white space between panels as weapons! And then they broke one of the biggest boundaries of all: In their final issue, they revealed that every member of the team was queer. Basically, all the things the industry would have said couldn't be done because it would affect sales, they did. Their fearlessness bolstered my own.



Robert Jones, Jr. is a writer from Brooklyn, N.Y. He earned both his B.F.A. in creative writing and M.F.A. in fiction from Brooklyn College. His work has been featured in The New York Times Gawker The Grio , and the Feminist Wire . He is the creator of the social justice social media community, Son of Baldwin, which can be found on Facebook Google Plus Instagram Medium Tumblr , and Twitter . His first novel is in the revision stage and he's currently working on the second.