Northeast

I appreciate CURA’s invitation to respond to the blog post about gentrification in Northeast (NE). A disclaimer; I did not review the ‘Snapshot” of interviews within the context of CURA’s full gentrification study. My response focuses on the interview content and is a critique of how narratives can misshape our understanding issues such gentrification when taken out of context. 

Narratives are often devoid of the contextual nuances of history and economic and demographic fact, and are rarely representative of all experience. Use of the term gentrification highlights the narrative dilemma. Neighborhood narratives present gentrification as the scourge yet it is a symptom of the disease of housing provision. Embedded in the history of housing provision are institutional and social practices responsible for our present state of inequity. More recent paradigm shifts in ideology and practice can’t reshape the wood and brick legacy of class, race and gender inequity implanted in the inventory of over 135-million housing units[1] that remain on the land; ill-suited to present and future household needs[2]. They can’t undo ownership of this built legacy, which is distributed in a stunningly unequal manner[3], yet ownership is one of the main tools used to shape neighborhoods. 

Present day housing concern, therefore, can’t be separated from the process of selecting - or accepting by default - from an already existing and distributed built history. Discourse about gentrification can’t be separated from the legacy of institutional practice and planning and financial tools that historically served only select households, investors, and developers. The narratives about neighborhood change in NE, however, are separated from this important contextual understanding.  The interviews do not reflect the nuances of the community’s history, and economic and demographic facts are absent. This is not a critique of the interviewees, it is recognition that as community members we ‘live’ in our own present, and ‘experience’ in own lives. This is evident the causality interviewees find in people and activity rather than historical property development practices and ownership. To the interviewees change is the consequence of the latest incomer, the product of a successful artist conversion, or result of a maker’s endeavor. 

Rent and property value increases and new development are disconnected from ‘who benefited’, through past ownership or property sale. Perceptions are decoupled from how current and long-time property owners manage the revenue opportunity of neighborhood progress through rental increases and property sales, aided by revitalization policies and the availability of financing. The disconnection downplays the impact of larger processes, and of cycles of disinvestment and reinvestment. For example, many interviewees rhapsodized the area’s blue collar history linked to a succession of European immigrants, and an era of generational homeownership and local industrial activity. The fondness was not extended to more recent immigrants whose diaspora originated in Africa, Central America and Asia, a point worth highlighting. Should we not ask why the generational cycle of white European occupancy ended? What prompted later generations to retreat from NE? 

Some emigrated as industrial employment opportunities dissipated, but some chose to relocate to new homes with the aid of mortgages not available to people of color. They left NE’s growing diversity for neighborhoods and schools with more familiar and homogeneous populations.  Eschewing NE lessened demand which was interpreted as a sign of neighborhood decline.  Disinvestment was a problem for existing property sales and owners became absentee landlords awaiting a market turnaround. The era of decline, however, created affordability for new immigrant groups, artists, and owners seeking to repurpose moribund buildings. These social and economic nuances are lost in truncated narratives. Instead of interrogating the institutional and social practices that produced cycles of change and ongoing inequities, artists and other starter-income households are bequeathed the title of gentrifier. 

Generalizations obfuscate the ways in which absentee owners continue to shape place at-a-distance. Today, only 44% of households in NE are owner-occupied[4]. Most decline era incomers didn’t achieve homeownership, the security to stay in place, or the ability to await profits from their property at a distance. Yet the at-a-distance influence of previous generations of property owners is instrumental to our understanding of current gentrification threats. Long-time property owners make land available for sale and for new development. They increase rents in accordance with market change, and like existing residents, incomers also struggle financially, although race, ethnicity, and class will not be dependent factors in eventually overcoming this struggle. 

Intuitively, the interviewees understand the unequal distribution of wealth and ownership. Yet the historic context of their own struggle is not fully comprehended, and therefore, articulated and their discontents are placed on the backs of the latest incomer. Hence my critical appraisal of a presentation of narratives as insights to what is happening in NE. Re-telling a generalized gentrification narrative with its stated villains misallocates time and energy needed to imagine, demand and facilitate real changes in housing provision. Bearing witness to a history of discriminatory practices, and accepting that we are, in essence, fighting over the crumbs of affordability in and already inequitably distributed existing martial landscape is a better place to start – and brings forth the realization that gentrification is a symptom of the disease. Rather than pit existing resident against incomer, cure the disease. Foster productive discussions about the role government, finance and development played and continue to play in influencing housing supply and the molding of the existing built legacy.

The recent growth of Northeast Minneapolis follows a familiar blueprint of neighborhood change seen across the country, including a few decades prior in Minneapolis’ Warehouse District: Artists move into a former industrial area which has experienced disinvestment; they create a sense of vibrancy attractive to outsiders; and they are eventually unable to afford the area whose success they made possible.

The featured comments by residents and business owners in Northeast echo that pattern of revitalization and displacement, as well as the viewpoints expressed by other community members we at the Preservation Alliance of Minnesota interviewed through our efforts to investigate cultural assets in Northeast. In our work, we focused on the social and cultural value of the places community members have been able to establish because of the area’s affordability—places like coffee shops and cafes, locally owned restaurants and businesses, and artist studios and galleries.

Their answers give some insight into why, socially, this cycle occurs and what stands to be lost. What exactly is it about a place like Northeast that has made it so attractive to outsiders? What qualities make it so ripe for commodification and a spike in demand that’s led to a rapid decrease in affordability?

As a former industrial hub of Minneapolis, Northeast has a long tradition of attracting immigrants—first from Scandinavia and Eastern Europe, and now from other places across the globe. Businesses representing the Latino, Hmong, Somali, and other communities dot the streetscape along Central Avenue.

Largely because of this immigrant community, Northeast has historically been rich in “third places,” a term coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg to describe where people spend time away from home and work and accrue social capital. These are places where people can build community and relationships, and become connected to civic and social groups. The many dive bars and churches which define Northeast have long served this purpose, and continue to do so.

As artists moved into Northeast from the North Loop, they augmented this culture of great places, repurposing abandoned industrial warehouses into studios and opening art galleries, coffee shops, and restaurants.

The rising popularity of Northeast has no single explanation, but we chose to examine it through the lens of successful places. Community members—whether they were homeowners, renters, artists, or small business owners—we spoke to consistently highlighted the authenticity of Northeast. They viewed this authenticity largely in terms of businesses and the arts, as well as through the historic homes and churches and the industrial legacy of Northeast found in the railroads and cobblestones.

We came to understand authenticity to mean small, local, and unique. Authentic places are ones that reflect the community and its history. They create a rich sense of place because they’re exclusive to the community in which they’re deeply rooted. The value of and attraction to these places has been accentuated by the increasing homogeneity of American culture—a sense that you could be in one place, but any place at all because of a sameness that pervades everything from the style of new apartment complexes to national chains.

Authentic places are an antidote to this sameness. As American society becomes more standardized, people increasingly prize authenticity and individuality. Places like local bookshops, diners, and art studios are important to people both because of the services they provide, and because they represent a culture of authenticity.

The irony is that authentic places tend attract homogenous ones. The density of great places increases the desirability of Northeast, making the area less affordable for those very people and places which made it attractive in the first place. Demolition of older buildings which provide affordable rents decreases the supply of small, affordable spaces for entrepreneurs. High rent prices in newer developments exclude all but national and regional chains and luxury boutiques, as lenders often pressure developers to exclusively lease to these “safe” tenants. Meanwhile, rents of older commercial and residential properties rise for many reasons. This can push out entrepreneurs, longtime businesses, and preclude new ones from emerging in the first place. For those who stay, they often experience a sort of cultural gentrification, in which they no longer see themselves represented in their neighborhood or feel welcome there. They feel that new groups “set the rules” for socially permissible behavior in the community.

All agree that neighborhood change is inevitable—even desired. The artists haven’t always been in Northeast, nor have the same businesses from the early 20^th century endured to the present. You’re more likely to hear Spanish and Somali spoken on the street than Swedish or Polish. The narratives shared by Northeast stakeholders in this snapshot emphasize the idea that the community opposes not change more broadly, but the current type and pace of change.

Revitalization isn’t neutral. Without concerted planning efforts, growth stands to benefit wealthy outsiders, rather than people of color and low-income residents who helped usher in the wave of growth. In Northeast, community members have been experiencing an inequitable growth that doesn’t always reflect their vision or needs, but rather those of outsiders.

Policy makers and politicians of all leanings can largely agree on the importance of small businesses, entrepreneurship, and artists. The economic, social, and cultural benefits have been well-established. The success of these places, however, threatens their very ability to exist without deliberate and diligent policies to support them and the people who have built them.

An ideal community includes a spectrum of affordable to high-end residential, commercial, and industrial spaces. Land use and zoning policies, regulation on developers, and planning documents ought to reflect that principle of tiered affordability.  Technical assistance programs and access to capital must be readily available to support great ideas. And, most importantly, community members must be empowered with the resources to guide change in line with their vision in order to benefit from growth.

Michael Tolan currently serves as a Community Engagement Coordinator with Preservation Alliance of Minnesota. Michael works with community members to identify cultural assets and opportunities to preserve and activate them. He aims to increase civic engagement around place, encourage residents to become active participants in the development of their neighborhoods, and develop policies that encourage cultural preservation and sustainable change.

Michael holds a B.A. in Classical Studies from Carleton College and is a graduate of the Coro Fellowship in Public Affairs, a national program centered on public policy, civic engagement, and leadership development.