In the selected sections of There Goes the ‘Hood: Views of Gentrification from the Ground Up, Freeman introduces gentrification and its proposed causes and effects. There are quite a few causes and drivers listed, each of which fall somewhere on the spectrum between production- and demand-side and between neutral to politically/socially charged. Overall, it seems that Freeman is attempting to contrast the economic explanations with the experiences of residents who have lived through the process of gentrification, specifically calling into question the supposed neutrality that production-side theories establish.

For part of my discussion question, I asked whether or how gentrification can fit into the framework of growth politics, specifically either the growth machine or the socio-spatial perspective. This question came to mind, as my final project centers around the hyper-gentrification of Chelsea in downtown Manhattan. We have discussed Chelsea so far as it is home to the High Line and through Kevin Loughran’s article entitled “Parks for Profit: The High Line, Growth Machines, and the Uneven Development of Urban Public Spaces.” In this article, Loughran argues that “City governments and developers build luxury public spaces to lure tourists and wealthy consumers for leisure and consumption….while parks catering to poor communities and immigrants are underfunded, forgotten unless they can serve “‘growth” schemes’” (50). During class, we discussed the larger theory of cities as machines for economic growth. Under this definition, cities are built, shaped, and maintained around the interests of those who will benefit from the growth, i.e. entrepreneurs, developers, and elites. 

With this concept of growth politics via the growth machine in mind, it is now possible to observe its connection to gentrification. In particular, Freeman describes how many “explanations of gentrification point to society-wide forces as culprit” (114), including “changes in commuting cost, demographic change, and consumer tastes and the restructuring of the economy” (114). In this view, “capital is like a force of nature, inevitably seeking the highest rate of return” (114). As follows, elites, entrepreneurs, and developers are often those investing the capital and thus will seek returns on their investments. If and when these elites settle in these gentrifying neighborhoods, they will likely try to improve it according to their standards, make accessible their desired amenities, and become involved in local politics in order to better serve their interests (financial and social). So while the growth machine may relate to the expansion of cities or areas, I think its underlying logic can be useful in recognizing the role that elite and capital-driven redevelopment plays within gentrification.

Lastly, in our class discussion, we discussed how gentrification can alter the way that new and old-time residents interact with public services and amenities in the neighborhood. Further, we questioned the extent to which growth via redevelopment in gentrified areas serves as progress. Freeman discusses how in many ways gentrification is not a neutral process and, often, the amenities and services introduced are only available to new residents–driving further distance between these two groups. This view moves beyond the impersonal forces, claiming that new services, amenities, and stores are instead “for whites moving into the neighborhood point[ing] to human agency rather than the market as the driving force behind gentrification” (114). This relates to Loughran’s piece and our wider discussion on the High Line, in which we explained how the High Line becomes a place accessible to only some residents and neighborhood visitors, often reinforcing existing sociopolitical inequalities and power dynamics. I think this is important to consider, in that the production-side arguments may be worthwhile, though they can gloss over the harsh implications that growth and redevelopment can have on long-term residents. Further, it is a start to developing a framework that can reconcile the lived experiences of residents with societal and economic factors that may be important drivers of gentrification.

In Chapter 5 of On the Run, Goffman chronicles the apparent cycling of the 6th Street men through different levels of the penal system. One of the key ways that these young men deal with their criminalization is living life on the run, which includes learning to “run and hide when police are coming” (52), avoiding places where policing is heavy like hospitals and funerals, avoiding formal employment, cultivating unpredictability in their behavior and habits, and “taking legal risks on one another’s behalf” (126).

For the first part of my discussion question, I posed whether or not we could read On the Run through the lens of resistance identities, as described by Rios, and/or survival strategies, as described by Sherman. There was not much consensus in our class discussion on whether or not Rios’ resistance identities was an ideal framework. As Rios describes in “Dummy Smart,” resistance identities are those that are “created by subordinated populations in response to oppression” and can help “provide them with the necessary tools to survive in an environment where they have been left behind and…consistently criminalized” (102). So an important distinction raised during class may be defining what these men are resisting. Would the resistance identity be completing normal, everyday tasks even though they are often criminalized? Or, would the resistance identity be living on the run from the police, even though this seems to be the more prevalent approach among the 6th Street men?

I have yet to come to a definite conclusion, but I am leaning towards the idea that resistance identities can incorporate both: a general identity developed in response to the 6th Street men navigating life under the apparent omnipresence of the police and penal system–a balance between running and living a “normal” life under this surveillance. In Rios’ framework, the 6th Street men are a subordinated population who are using different survival strategies to navigate a world which has sought to criminalize their everyday habits and behavior. Sometimes their strategies are in opposition to what mainstream society may dictate as the “correct” way to deal or cooperate with police surveillance. But whether they run or stay, the unfortunate consequence often seems to be time spent in police custody, jail, or prison–so everything these men do can in some framework be defined as a type of resistance. Additionally, in Chapter 4 of On the Run, Goffman introduces the ways in which the 6th Street community actually use their involvement with legal authorities to their own benefit, whether that be using jail as a safe haven, the bail office as a bank, or the threat of snitching as a form of social control. This component may demonstrate how the 6th Street community can develop a form of agency under the surveillance of the police, showing that they are not just passive and “unwilling pawns of oppressive authorities” (91).

I am also interested in the degree to which we should address Goffman’s status as a white, middle/upper-class, educated woman in her analysis of 6th Street and its residents. To an extent, the Appendix helps to clarify how she came to be involved in the 6th Street community, how she viewed her relationships there, and, in part, how she addressed being an outsider of the community while conducting research. Despite these explanations, I am still left somewhat unsatisfied. As opposed to other ethnographers who embrace their outsider status, Goffman instead, sought to be a “participant observer” who would eventually be able to understand the “everyday worries and small triumphs from the inside” (243). But the main focus of her research became “life on the run,” which remained an elusive concept for a white women on 6th Street without actively putting herself in danger or explicitly attracting the attention of the police–which would likely ruin her rapport with the 6th Street men. So, Goffman claims it herself: she “missed a lot by not moving through the criminal justice system alongside them” (243). Even though she sought not to be an outsider, it seems to me that Goffman retained her outsider status on arguably the most integral part of her study.

Lastly, I am left wondering why we are posing this question for Goffman, even though it has yet to come up for previous ethnographers discussed. Does it have to do with her multi-pronged status as an outsider–as white, as highly educated, as middle/upper-class, and as a woman? I do think Goffman’s status is worth noting and discussing but why now and not before?