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Tag: Race

Book Review from the Journal: Race After Technology, Ruha Benjamin

This week, we are featuring a book review from Volume 46 of the Carolina Planning Journal, The White Problem in Planning. Joungwon Kwon reflects on Ruha Benjamin’s Race After Technology: Abolitionist Tools for the New Jim Code.

Book Review by Joungwon Kwon

Ruha Benjamin’s Race After Technology: Abolitionist Tools for the New Jim Code offers past and current technology examples in our everyday life to demonstrate technology’s failures in eliminating racism. Without assessing the problems entailed by emerging technology, the public and private sectors are quickly implementing technology in different settings. Although many advocates frame technology as an unbiased tool, Benjamin asserts that technology, including AI and robots, are not neutral. Indeed, to Benjamin, the dominance of emerging technologies, and the racism underlying their design and use, constitutes a “New Jim Code.”

“Data, in short, do not speak for themselves and don’t always change hearts and minds or policy.” (p. 206)

When programmers create technological tools, they use data that reflects the systematic racism built into our society. The most common example is discrimination based on names. Research shows that white-sounding first names have advantages over Black-sounding names (Benjamin 2019, 15), and technology that uses this racially biased data reproduces this racism and continues to support White supremacy. Benjamin informs users that critical thinking is necessary, and it may be challenging compared to the past. For example, Robert Moses’s plans to build bridges in New York City so low that buses would not be able to pass underneath were an explicitly racist effort to exclude poorer people of color. In contrast, racism in technology is challenging to detect because technology is often framed as an objective tool. It is difficult for users to understand all the data and design choices that programmers have made. Therefore, Benjamin encourages users to not blindly accept what is shown on the screen, and to ask questions about programmers’ intentions and how the design of technology can disadvantage some communities over others.

“Invisibility, with regard to Whiteness, offers immunity.” (p. 14)

One of the most infamous algorithms for racial bias is predictive policing. Predictive policing tries to predict future crimes by analyzing historical crime data, which perpetuates racist historical patterns of incarceration among Black and Latinx populations.

Benjamin provides ways to flip the script for racially biased algorithms. One example is the White-Collar Early Warning System, which highlights financial crimes on a heat map and includes a facial recognition program to identify corporate executives, mostly White, who are likely to be perpetrators. It makes Whiteness and financial crimes visible.

The book also includes cases of apps focused on decarceration, especially for people who cannot afford bail money. Promise tracks individuals’ locations before trial or sentencing, thereby reducing the need for bail payments. Although the app may seem “good,” it can easily be used against individuals due to the nature of its continuous surveillance. Both systems allow technology to be abolitionist tools instead of perpetuating racism. However, the “good” apps can always be used in reverse at any moment. Another decarceration app, Appolition avoids Promise’s surveillance problems by crowdfunding donations for bail out money for incarcerated people.

“By deliberately and inventively upsetting the techno status quo in this manner, analysts can better understand and expose the many forms of discrimination embedded in and enabled by technology.” (p. 211)

Benjamin closes the book with what society can do to bring justice to technology: disrupt the techno status quo. The current status of technology embeds discrimination. Therefore, disrupting the status quo means to change and question the technology. In the first four chapters, she illustrates how technology has perpetuated Jim Crow laws, and how analysts, artists, and activists need to work to reform these systems. Moreover, new apps, programs, and data require a holistic understanding instead of an ends-justify-the-means approach. She argues that “New Jim Code fixes are a permanent placeholder for bolder change” (p. 174). A solution to one problem may bring more problems to other areas, so the fixes need to be cautiously thought through with a long-term vision that prioritizes justice.

Although Benjamin presents examples, many questions are left without answers. For instance, she states that society needs an abolitionist toolkit for technology. The abolitionist toolkit is not specific and centers data analysts and designers. For technology users, the book does not provide solutions to disrupt the techno status quo, which may frustrate some readers. However, technology is dramatically changing, and these problems do not have one-size-fits-all solutions. Benjamin’s examples are helpful in understanding the New Jim Code, but they are sometimes not described in detail. For example, the book mentions several apps, such as Promise, and their problems without offering enough context. This lack of description may leave readers perplexed. Nonetheless, the book helps to recognize emerging technology problems and bring the conversation to various settings in the public and private sectors.

Race After Technology lies at the intersection of many disciplines studies and will be interesting for those who are curious about systemic racism, technology, and cities. Benjamin’s background is in African American Studies, which presents the book with a clear racial justice lens. Benjamin poses many questions about technology’s influence on today’s societies and enables readers to imagine more equitable cities. The takeaways for readers are that technology users need to think critically, flipping the script for digital platforms and upsetting the techno status quo instead of accepting technology’s default, if they want to change the New Jim Code. In the future, specific solutions for tech users and more detailed examples would be great additions to the book.

Buy Race After Technology here.

Find Volume 46 of the Carolina Planning Journal online here.


Jo (Joungwon) Kwon is a third-year Ph.D. student in the Department of City and Regional Planning. She hopes to interweave various data sets and narratives of housing and communities together with new digital technologies. With a background in Statistics and English Literature, she received her M.A. in Computational Media at Duke University. In her free time, she enjoys watching indie films, going to live performances, and drinking good coffee.

Carolina Planning Journal Recognized by the 2021 Haskell Award


The Carolina Planning Journal was one of five publications recognized by the Center for Architecture’s 2021 Douglas Haskell Award for Student Journals. CPJ received an Honorable Mention for this year’s issue, Volume 46, The White Problem in Planning. An excerpt from 2020-21 Editor-in-Chief Will Curran-Groome’s Editor’s Note speaks to the variety of articles and book reviews featured in the issue:

This past year has been in large part defined by three interrelated phenomena: a resurgence in Black Lives Matter protests and activism catalyzed by the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd by the police; the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic; and the ouster of Donald Trump and the Republican Party from control of our federal executive and legislative branches of government. Each of these events has highlighted how the social, political, economic, legal, and physical institutions of our country have been designed and employed to benefit whites at the expense of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) communities. In response, we asked authors to address issues raised by Goetz, Williams, and Damiano (2020) in their article titled Whiteness and Urban Planning, in particular how urban planning has worked to normalize and perpetuate whiteness–its invisibility, the exclusion by which it is defined, and the extractive nature of white affluence. The articles in this issue touch on many of the domains where planning intersects with whiteness, and they contribute valuable perspectives and analyses as we seek to build more racially just and reparative planning systems. 

The Haskell Award was founded to encourage student journalism on architecture, planning, and related subjects, and to foster regard for criticism among future professionals. The award is named for architectural journalist and editor Douglass Haskell, an honorary member of the American Institute of Architects and editor at Architectural Forum from 1949 to 1964, during which he was very influential in stopping the demolition of Grand Central Station.

CPJ was recognized alongside the Rice University School of Architecture, Northeastern University School of Architecture, Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture, Planning, and Preservation, and City College of New York Spitzer School of Architecture for perpetuating intelligent writing about design.

Print copies are still available of this year’s journal. To order your own, complete this brief subscription form and send us a payment via Venmo, Zelle, or cash or check; additional payment details are provided on the subscription form.

Subscription rates are as follow:

  • DCRP Student: $10
  • DCRP Alumnus, Staff, or Faculty: $15
  • General Subscriber: $20

Questions? Don’t hesitate to email us.


By Emma Vinella-Brusher, Angles Managing Editor

Featured image courtesy of Jo Kwon

Black in Place: The Spatial Aesthetics of Race in a Post-Chocolate City by Brandi Thompson Summers

By: Veronica Brown

Brandi Thompson Summers’s Black in Place: The spatial aesthetics of race in a post-chocolate city draws upon participant observation, interviews, media accounts, and visual analysis to present a detailed case study of the Washington D.C. neighborhood of H Street NE, a commercial corridor patronized by Black locals throughout the twentieth century that has undergone significant gentrification in the past two decades. Thompson argues that the gentrification of H Street involves using Blackness to market an authentic experience while reorganizing the landscape in service of capital. Gentrification activates race through what Summers terms “Black aesthetic emplacement,” a mode of representation that depoliticizes and aestheticizes Blackness in order to make racial markers valuable and consumable (Summers 2019, 3). Summers ultimately provides a richly detailed analysis of a particular place while also developing a useful broader framework for how race operates in the process of gentrification.

Although civil unrest characterized the 1960s across the United States, Washington D.C was widely regarded as “riotproof” before 1968 because of the city’s large Black population and Black mayor. Following the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1968, however, D.C. experienced widespread uprisings. Summers argues that these demonstrations were not the irrational reaction to King’s death that the media depicted but instead reflected simmering tensions about the spatial containment and capitalist exploitation that Black residents had experienced throughout the 1960s. Summers writes, “The uprisings brought into view the notion that struggles against oppression are ultimately that struggles over space” (Summers 2019, 59). This struggle would continue throughout the ensuing decline and redevelopment of H Street, NE.

Although the significant physical damage H Street experienced during the protests was not as severe as some other neighborhoods in the city, the area was slower to redevelop in the following decades. Black business owners, developers, and architects advanced many proposals to redevelop the corridor throughout the 1970s, but the city government declined to support any plans. The construction of the Hopscotch Bridge further isolated the area. By the 1980s, H Street had become an “iconic ghetto” (Summers 2019, 53), frequently activated as a political symbol but receiving little meaningful government support. Businesses, including socially important third places, continued to close.

With the back-to-the-city movement well underway in the early 2000s, developers began to revitalize H Street through significant upscale development. Summers describes a city-funded Retail Priority Area Grant that excluded service businesses, including largely Black-owned barbershops and hair salons, but embraced “entrepreneurial and innovative” ventures, including high-end shops and restaurants (Summers 2019, 74). These development schemes gave H Street a new spatial identity as a post-racial space in which diversity functioned primarily as an aesthetic style. In 2017, a new Whole Foods opened on H Street, and the chain’s press release touted that both Whole Foods and H Street valued diversity and history. When the grocery store opened, the decor included many racialized visual references, including an ill-advised candy display case labeled “Chocolate City.” The neighborhood that had been devalued for its Blackness in the previous decades was now revalued for its multiculturalism.

In addition to the Whole Foods, a proliferation of upscale ethnic fusion restaurants on H Street made race literally palatable and consumable through food. The trendy eateries reflect D.C.’s wider embrace of Richard Florida’s creative class hypothesis (Florida 2014), which prioritizes quality-of-life upgrades to attract young, white professionals. Summers observes that the creative class strategy also absolves the government of responsibility for addressing structural inequalities as it holds that success can be achieved through entrepreneurialism. Although some culinary signifiers of Blackness remain on H Street, their presence is justified on historic grounds. A close reading of a Washington Post story on Horace and Dickie’s, a carryout fried seafood restaurant, illustrates that the newspaper adds historic and cultural value to a building that would otherwise be visually associated with blight by focusing on the historical importance of fried whiting fish to enslaved people.

Retellings of H Street’s history frequently highlight the supposedly harmonious racial history of the area while failing to address the legacy of racial subordination. Summers analyzes a planning document titled the Near NE Historical Study and a heritage tour containing brochures and signs for self-guided pedestrian tourists to show that both overwhelmingly focus on a time at the turn of the twentieth century when H Street was “diverse” before becoming “Black” (Summers 2019, 92). Neither narrative addresses segregation nor structural inequalities. The planning document does not address the 1968 uprising at all, while the heritage tour opts to depict the event as an irrational anomaly in response to Martin Luther King, Jr.’s death, rather than the culmination of ongoing tensions. These histories create an abstract space in which diversity has always been celebrated, marking the contemporary iteration of H Street as authentic according to the constructed collective memory of the space.

In the final chapter of Black in Place, Summers focuses on the corner of 8th Street and H Street in order to illustrate how blackness and space co-produce one another in the context of gentrification. Summers organizes this analysis around three themes, transit, spatial containment, and “the unseen” (Summers 2019, 148), which provide the basis of a more widely applicable theoretical framework. Transit-oriented development around the corner’s new streetcar appeals to young, white professionals, while the predominantly Black bus ridership constitutes the X2 bus, which stops at the corner, as an ephemeral, racialized microgeography. The corner is also subject to racialized surveillance, including CCTV cameras and an active police presence, and media coverage of crime on the corner creates Black spaces as geographies of fear. This hypervisibility through surveillance is in tension with how black people are unseen on the corner. Summers defines unseeing as a practice that enables different groups to coexist without interaction and without engaging with people’s lives and conditions. While Black bodies are hypervisible on the corner, Black people remain unseen.

Black in Place offers a detailed study of H Street NE that includes a wealth of carefully chosen examples that make up a thoughtful exploration of the racialized process of gentrification. Summers, however, sometimes leans too heavily on densely theoretical jargon, undermining the strength of her own research. For example, although the introduction specifies that she follows Wendy Brown’s definition of neoliberalism as a process of worldmaking, her repeated invocation of neoliberalism sometimes shortcuts a more sustained exploration of the exact issues at play. This choice may temper Black in Place’s appeal to a popular audience or planning practitioners, which is a shame because many of the book’s examples could provide useful lessons for planners and planning students.

Works cited

Florida, Richard L. 2014. Rise of the Creative Class – Revisited. Paperback of the revised edition. New York: Basic Books.

Summers, Brandi Thompson. 2019. Black in Place: The Spatial Aesthetics of Race in a Post-Chocolate City. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Featured Image courtesy of The University of North Carolina Press

Purchase Black in Place here.


Veronica Brown is a second-year student in the Master’s of City and Regional Planning program. She received her undergraduate degree from Smith College, where she studied the psychology of contemporary visual culture. Before coming to UNC, Veronica worked in communications at the Whitney Museum of American Art.

Edited by Jo Kwon

Racial Inequality, Gentrification, and Poverty: The History and Context of Durham’s Affordability Crisis

On any given night in Durham, young people mill about on Rigsbee Avenue, ducking into the bars and restaurants that have cropped up there. Liberty Warehouse, an upscale condominium complex that once was a tobacco auction warehouse, looms farther up the street. The transformation of this street is emblematic of Durham’s transition from a working-class tobacco town to a hip city known for its food scene. But along with the economic revitalization of downtown has come an increase in rents and housing prices in nearby neighborhoods, pushing longtime black residents out.

A recent study from the North Carolina Poverty Research Fund identified three downtown neighborhoods – East Durham, Old North Durham and Southside – as particularly susceptible to gentrification, a term describing the influx of higher income residents into underinvested and predominantly poor communities. According to this study, median housing prices in the downtown area have nearly doubled, from $180,000 in 2012 to $350,000 in 2016. The location, affordability and diversity make these neighborhoods appealing to home buyers, while poverty and high rents make them prone to gentrification. Many neighborhoods that were home to long-time black residents are now seeing a demographic shift; the study found that the majority of home loan applicants in 2016 were white.

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The transitional nature of gentrification. Source: North Carolina Poverty Research Fund

As one interviewee in the study put it, “Yuppies are living next to low-income families. They have fixed up a house to be worth $300,000 right next to a house worth $20,000. Buyers are also squatting on houses—buying them up and then sitting on them until the black folks leave.”

To understand how and why gentrification is happening, the authors of the study, Heather Hunt and Allison De Marco, looked to the past at the effects of redlining and urban renewal. In the 1930s, the Home Owner’s Loan Corporation evaluated the creditworthiness of neighborhoods using race as one of the criteria. Thus, neighborhoods that were majority black or poor were graded red and consider “hazardous” for lending. This practice prevented many African American residents from borrowing money and becoming homeowners, which meant they were unable to build wealth and establish financial security. Red-lined neighborhoods were systematically disinvested, receiving fewer services and resources than wealthier, white neighborhoods.

In spite of redlining, the African American community in Durham thrived in neighborhoods like Hayti and the West End. Earning the moniker “Capital of the Black Middle Class,” Durham was nationally recognized for its black businesses, particularly the North Carolina Mutual Insurance Company. However, by the 1950s, Hayti and other African American neighborhoods became targets for urban renewal, part of a federally subsidized program to clear areas designated as “slums,” which in practice meant neighborhoods that were majority black. According to the study, more than 4,000 households and 500 businesses were forced to relocate to make way for Highway 147, and promises made to restore the community went largely unfulfilled.

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White flight and gentrification in Durham, NC, 1970-2016. Source: North Carolina Poverty Research Fund

 

By the 70 and 80s, downtown Durham had been largely abandoned due white flight and disinvestment, which set the stage for developers and investors to capitalize on cheap properties when the city started to turn around in 2010. The same neighborhoods that were previously subject to redlining and urban renewal are now experiencing gentrification. “The search for the next up and coming neighborhoods has pushed developers and prospective home buyers toward formerly overlooked neighborhoods bordering downtown,” the study says.

In the case of Southside, which was formerly part of the Hayti neighborhood,  gentrification was a “self-fulfilling prophesy” according to Hunt. The city invested millions to subsidize construction, renovation and purchase of homes with the intent of making them affordable to existing residents. That did not happen. Instead, median sale price rose from $20,000 in 2012 to $216,000 in 2016, with private market construction homes selling for $450,000 or more. As the study puts it, “the revitalization and subsequent gentrification shows how tricky it can be to break the bonds of history and race.”

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Soaring housing prices and demand in Durham, NC from 2012-2016. Source: North Carolina Poverty Research Fund

Growing by an estimated 10,000 new inhabitants each year, Durham faces soaring demand and a limited housing supply that has created an affordability crisis. Local officials are aware of the issues but unsure how to address it. Unlike other cities, Durham doesn’t have tenant protections or inclusionary zoning laws, which would require developers to dedicate a portion of new construction or rehabilitation to affordable units. Local housing organizations like Habitat for Humanity and the Durham Community Land Trust help low-income residents become homeowners but they can’t keep up with the need.

The report does not offer any policy solutions but Hunt recognizes that city officials are “wrestling with the idea that it’s hard to do economic development without exacerbating inequalities that exist in the place already. Even in a place like Durham which prides itself on diversity and inclusivity, it’s still really struggling with these issues.”

About the Author: Lucia Constantine is a second-year master’s student in the Department of City and Regional Planning. Her planning interests include immigrant integration into cities and inclusive economic development. Prior to coming to UNC, Lucia worked in higher education and nonprofits. She likes listening to podcasts, baking with alternative grains, and taking unreasonable walks.

Featured Image: A redlining map of Durham, NC, 1937. Source: Mapping Inequality

Rap and the American City

At its genesis, Hip-Hop was a perverse art form breaking away from cultural norms and mainstream sounds. It’s vibrancy attracted people, it encompassed rapping, DJing, breakdancing and graffiti. The Godfather of Hip-Hop, Afrika Bambaataa, started this community through block parties in the Bronx as a way to unite young people through the medium of music. Furthermore, Lisa Alexander described hip-hop as a way for the early hip-hop pioneers to “redefine their neighborhoods as places of pride, rather than mere spaces of material deprivation and social dysfunction”. Hip-Hop is much more than just its music, it is the story of an oppressed population, confined to the boundaries of the inner city that was systemically disinvested in.

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Rappers from Kendrick Lamar to Nas to TuPac to Drake eloquently paint a vivid picture of their lifestyles. They convey their lived experiences to define their music and these lived experiences are influenced by our city life. Illmatic and Good Kid, M.A.A.D City are two highly rated, influential albums that are focused on the lifestyle of a young man and his instances with his friends, family and sometimes the law. These are lived experiences of some young people in the American inner city. While not every rapper is socially conscious, those that are use that to influence their work of art.

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Kendrick Lamar, who was born and raised in Compton, California, frequently raps about his upbringing in the city. Photo Credit: Merlijn Hoek-wikiportret.nl

Rap can express frustrations with social and political order. Below is an excerpt from “m.A.A.d city” by Kendrick Lamar, which criticizes California Governor Jerry Brown:

They say the governor collect, all of our taxes except
When we in traffic and tragic happens, that shit ain’t no threat

You moving backwards if you suggest that you sleep with a TEC
Go buy a chopper and have a doctor on speed dial, I guess,
m.A.A.d city

Rap, real rap, is a gateway into the lives of some members of our society that is often glamorized by the industry as a one-dimensional space which is crime ridden, drug filled land of immorality. However, it is much more than that; it is a very three-dimensional space where people do not necessarily fit into stereotypes and battle with issues such as feminism, colorism and domestic colonization.

 

Urban Blight in the Bronx.

Urban blight in the birthplace of Hip-Hop South, Bronx, New York City in 1987. Photo Credit: “Flats to Let 1987” Urban Photos

This short piece is only the tip of a much bigger topic on a range issues that show the inextricable link between the city and hip-hop. For people of color, the city became a dilapidated space that was left to their responsibility. Hip-Hop, specifically rap, is a medium by which people are able to express their emotions. We as an audience can begin to understand the experiences in the ghetto through musical expression. These messages could be used as a starting point to develop solutions to the dire situations of some inner cities. There is an intimate connection between the rapper and the city that urban ethnographers struggle to achieve.

Adeyemi Olatunde is a London, UK native and lover of good music, good cities and good vibes. Olatunde is Majoring in geography with a minor in urban planning. He is a Morehead-Cain Scholar, serves as a Programming VP for the Carolina Union Activities Board, a varsity fencer and the Assistant Modeling Director for Coulture magazine.