"Gentrification refers to the process whereby a low rent neighborhood is transformed into a high rent neighborhood through redevelopment, usually in conjunction with changing demographics and an influx of wealthier residents" (Wikipedia).
The blog of an acquaintance, Bagel in Harlem, was mentioned in a New York Times article this past weekend. The article, "Feeling Settled? Must be time to move," uses her blog, which is about "A Jewish girl from Indiana navigates the maze of New York City real estate and finds herself residing in East Harlem. Her stories reflect upon the notion of ‘home’ and the quest behind finding the right one. This site is dedicated to the search for a Bagel in Harlem," as a springing off point to discuss serial movers- people that frequently change New York City apartments and neighborhoods. Partly because the majority of people have moved in the last year or two, and more or less fit that description, I didn't find the article too intriguing. I was disappointed to see that was the direction the NY Times decided to take regarding "Bagel in Harlem."
To me, Bagel in Harlem is fascinating as a discussion from the perspective of a gentrifier in the serially gentrified neighborhood of East Harlem. A quick look at the history referenced on the website East Harlem Tourism shows an ever-changing ethnic New York City area. Another history account can be found on the Hope Community, Inc. website. From what I can tell, East Harlem started off as the farmland area of New York, provence of the Native Americans. Eventually German and Irish immigrants took over the area, then Italians and Eastern Europeans, to the point that "in the early 1900s East Harlem was home to the largest number of Italians in the country." With World War I and II came settlers of Puerto Rican and African American descent. Throughout the 1900s and especially in the 60s, there were many political struggles waged to determine who would control which aspects (educational, etc) of East Harlem and activists representing the different cultural groups residing in East Harlem became involved in the community. Currently, the neighborhood continues to change as Mexican, Dominican, and South American residents enter the area, as well as artists and musicians, and former Manhattan-ites lured by the real estate deals offered in "Spa Ha."
Newcomers- mostly white yuppies and hipsters, or whatever you want to call them, are just the latest in this chain of influxes, but follow a historical precedent of completely changing the community. The website East-Harlem.com, maintained by Jose B. Rivera, an East Harlem resident and community activist, has plenty to say on this new trend, as he rants about the new name Soho-like name for Spanish Harlem- "Spa Ha"- and "New Residents":
Yet, as reading Bagel in Harlem notes, what looks to be ego and ignorance of the local community can just be fear. In the honest post, "Tough Times," the author describes walking by a bunch of men late at night:
"Spa Ha"
People are moving up here like crazy. Sometimes these newcomers look at us as if saying 'What are you doing here?" Most of the time they just rush on by. But how long will it be before I am the sore thumb, sticking
out and not belonging in my own community because it's very character has changed? It's good to have fresh faces in the community, but this is getting scarry. Am I about to be squeezed out by their ability to pay
higher rents?
"New Residents"
Remember, you are displacing us. If you care at all about us, don't come and together we can show the greedy landlord and real estate interest how not to destroy a community, a lesson they need to learn.
Yet, as reading Bagel in Harlem notes, what looks to be ego and ignorance of the local community can just be fear. In the honest post, "Tough Times," the author describes walking by a bunch of men late at night:
I tell him to stay out of trouble as I walk past him and his posse. It feels good to throw my shoulders back and walk purposefully; to feel tough in a way that extends beyond any mental or physical strength I’ve known. Perhaps it’s part of a reinvention of self that comes with the territory that I find myself living in. Or maybe the badass in me has always been lurking - looking for a place like 125th street to come out. As I make my way home, I pull the belt of my wool coat tighter around my waist, and tug at my ponytail holder to let my hair down.
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