The works of Driskell and Lyon, Goodspeed, and Kidder all examine the changing meaning of community during modern times and illustrate how technology is playing a major role in the formation and strength of people’s relationships. My expert question discussed the implications addressed in Driskell and Lyon’s piece of how the increase of communication through technological devices and forms of social media hinders individuals from creating the same close, personal ties with one another as they would if they communicated face to face. More specifically, I asked whether we as individuals are creating less authentic relationships nowadays due to our lack of direct communication and whether people believed that our perception of being “close” with an individual is different from what people fifty years ago valued as a “close” relationship.

Several classmates raised interesting points in regards to my question. We discussed how we cannot expect to accurately compare relationships nowadays to those of the past because of the drastic generational differences in circumstance between the two time periods. We argued that nowadays, virtual relationships can be viewed as very close and that social media and technology today allows people to remain closer with their friends and loved ones. In other words, technology is a tool that can be used to bolster already-existing and established relationships. These virtual communities provide people with an avenue to remain in contact and further their relationships through the virtual world. This being said, we also talked about how there can be discrepancies when translating virtual world relationships to real world relationships. For example, being virtual “friends” with a person on Facebook might not hold the same strength and meaning when the relationship is translated to the physical world. We also discussed how this phenomenon has taken different forms and has been repeated throughout the past few decades due to ever-improving technology. While nowadays individuals use social media to stay in touch, we considered stories that our parents had told us about how they would be given a hard time by their parents for talking on the landline when they should be forming face to face relationships instead. We then conversed about how today, younger adolescents  consider “quality” time with their friends to be sitting in the same room with one another on their phones playing games.

I found our class discussion in response to my question to be very interesting. While I understand the point that Nisbet made in Driskell and Lyon’s piece that the “decline in identification with the territorial community is related to the decline in Gemeinschaft-like interpersonal relations” (376), I also believe that my classmates made compelling points in saying that virtual relationships are one with the modern times. Driskell and Lyon also pose the question of whether the virtual community can provide common ties and social interaction without the establishment of physical place. After our class discussion, I argue that social media in itself could be considered a common place in these modern times. I believe that the “place” aspect of community is ever changing as our technology becomes more advanced.

Driskell, Goodspeed and Kidder’s pieces all discuss the effect of online communities on modern society. My expert question focused on Driskell’s discussion of cyberspace and its influence on community. More specifically, my question addressed Driskell’s “lost community thesis,” which argues the necessity of identification with place for community (376). Driskell claims that relationships that operate only online lack an identification with place, and therefore lack the same, true intimacy that one experiences from face-to-face interactions. However, all three readings note that online communities are spaces that allow individuals with similar interests to connect with each other. This observation leads scholars to question whether or not these relationships can be considered real. I wanted to know what my classmates thought about authenticity in relation to these arguments. Does authenticity matter when determining if a community is real or not? Because members get to choose their online groups, can it be argued that these communities are actually more authentic? Is there something to be said about groups that are thrust upon us by history, family, or cultural experiences? Is authenticity necessary as a condition of community?

A few classmates expressed their difficulty in seeing how an online community could be considered more authentic than a community one is linked to by history, family, or cultural experiences. While they agreed with the authors that the bonds and relationships that one forms in an online community are real, several people stated their belief that sharing interests does not necessarily create an authentic bond. However, other classmates said they think authenticity depends on what the online community is about. For example, if someone needed a support group that perhaps they are unable to find in person or within their home community, this outside support group could be considered authentic (Class Discussion, October 23^rd). So, while on the whole it appeared that authenticity is necessary as a condition of community, this authenticity may or may not originate from history, family, or cultural experiences.

My expert question also asked the class to think about these readings in relation to Karyn Lacy’s discussion of strategic assimilation and authentic blackness. Lacy argues,
“the construction of an authentic black racial identity is incomplete in the absence of meaningful interactions with other blacks” (183). In this sense, it appears Lacy highly values history, family and cultural expectations in regards to authenticity, repeatedly stating that “they can’t forget they are black” (153) and therefore must maintain strong ties to the black community. Though the class did not really discuss this part of the question, I feel as though these two discussions can be brought together. I think Lacy would argue that in no way can an online community be considered authentic. Lacy would argue that one’s upbringing and one’s identification with place is too important in developing a sense of community that anything less should not be considered authentic. Sure, online communities are an extension-of-reach of the same desire to find and connect with people—but no incorporation into another community can outweigh a “local place where one was born, raised, and died” (Driskell, 376). I think Lacy would argue that the “inherently intimate, holistic relationships” (Driskell, 376) that are a result of meaningful interactions cannot and should not surrender to online relationships.

In 1945 Chauncey Harris and Edward Ullman created the multiple nuclei model, which suggests that cities are locationally fixed growth machines, deeply grounded in capitalism. It also states that cities develop around a central business district. Recently a new theory regarding city growth has emerged called the postmodern city theory. This theory states that there is no singular or dominant approach to understanding contemporary city development. In the article, Los Angeles and the Chicago School: An Invitation to a Debate, Michael Dear makes sense of postmodern urban cities and gives us evidence to argue for or against the existence of an L.A. School of Urbanism.

Some agree that it is time to depart from the Chicago School being the paradigmatic model for all cities. However, this idea hasn’t been accepted by all. In class I wanted to get a better sense as to why the L.A. School of Urbanism is still under debate and why are we using Chicago as a template for all cities. It seems we would gain a better understanding of urban life and function if there were schools that studied the city they were situated in. My question generated some discussion, however, even after our discussion I don’t fully understand why people are skeptical of the L.A. School of Urbanism. We know that the Chicago School of Urbanism was created out of convenience to the researchers. After the Chicago fire, Chicago was reconstructed into a market place and city of entertainment. The researchers went into their “backyard” and used the data they collected from Chicago as a template for all cities in the United States.

The Chicago School limits the versatility and complexity of city experiences in different cities to a singular unit. During our discussion, one of my classmates stated that this is problematic, because rural cities don’t function the same way urban cities like Chicago or postmodern cities like Los Angeles do.  I agree with this statement, because although the convenient nature of the Chicago school gives sociologist a starting point for other urban cities it wouldn’t give reason as to why Iowa City has such a drug abuse issue; nor does it give you a starting point to understand a hybrid city like Los Angeles. Specifically, Dear states that adopting L.A. as a world city template needs to be avoided since it’s urban landscapes aren’t original (page 28). Even though it’s landscapes aren’t original, I think it would be interesting to think study how American urbanities of L.A. function and navigate the city as it is a hybrid of international places like São Paulo and American cities. This could be the reason why Los Angeles is home to 1 million immigrants- they want to move to America to achieve the American dream but they want to live in a place that reminds them of home. By recognizing schools that study the specifics of individual cities we will be able to understand the complexities and experiences of each individual cities to create a more defined and inclusive idea of what it means to be a city.

The concept of the “Cosmopolitan Canopy” is one that I have disagreements with. I’m not arguing that folk ethnography doesn’t happen or that diplomatic and respectful conversations don’t occur between different groups of people at these places. I have very well participated in actively making assumptions about individuals in public spaces as well as have participated in open and lively conversations with people different from me at Bowdoin and in public spaces back home. What I do have my reservations towards is this notion of the “Cosmopolitan Canopy” as a “neutral social setting, which no one group expressly owns but all are encouraged to share”. Bluntly put, I think if a public space in this country is not meant as a space clearly designed for the use or the appreciation of certain marginalized racial or cultural groups, then that space is expressly owned by a dominant group by default and no such neutral space can actually exist.

This claim is probably more obvious is public spaces of the suburbs which white America still overwhelmingly owns. In addition, it is clear that places like The Spot or the pigeon pet shop in Bushwick, Brooklyn are spaces dominated and controlled by marginalized racial groups, therefore, not neutral. They offer supporting communities and safe havens for these people, which are hard to get elsewhere. But even in the most diverse places within our cities where there is no line between who owns what space, a hierarchy between the people will always be invisibly present in these areas. This is due to the institutional racism of this country and the many ways privileged individuals in these areas will continue to perpetuate such prejudice and discrimination through miniscule actions that are often overlooked. The question about the neutrality of a social space isn’t just about which groups are more likely to use such space, but which groups are more encouraged to use said space and how they act in these spaces.

The High Line is an example of what could be a cosmopolitan canopy, but shows signs that it isn’t neutral after all. This greenway is open to the public, which means anyone can visit and make use of it. But as Loughran argues on his article about the High Line, there are ways in which this public space is more inviting to a certain demographic while it indirectly discourages food vendors or bottle collectors to come near the site. Again, this space is open for everyone to engage in as a cosmopolitan canopy, but the space was clearly meant for the white middle class to use because of how the owners of the High Line secretly implemented actions to prevent the other groups from using the space.

Another example I recall is from Victor Rios’s “Dummy Smart” where Rios talked about a white employer interviewing Ronny for a job at a restaurant. The restaurant is supposed to act as a cosmopolitan canopy because any one can technically go in, eat, and socialize. But the institutional racism takes a role in defining how the employer and Ronny both act with one another. The employer conducts a false folk ethnography of Ronny as an unreliable and lazy black teenager and she gets away with these false stereotypes because this is what the mainstream society has taught her to categorize people like Ronny as. Ronny also plays a role through using his “organic capital” to show his employer that he is not what she thinks of him. He does this by refusing to give her a hand shake and by not looking her straight in the eyes, which further worsens her initial thoughts of him.

Even in public spaces that may seem pretty neutral, marginalized groups may have to act in certain ways in order to prevent themselves from being stigmatized by the privileged groups. These privilege groups are free to act as they are without any repercussions while the marginalized groups may act in alternative ways in order to navigate through public spaces like a cosmopolitan canopy. Students of color may perhaps feel this way while studying in areas like Smith Union or the library. It shows that even in cosmopolitan canopies, marginalized groups may be forced to play a different role while privileged groups do not need to change their roles. Thus, through this ownership and assertion of their own identities, the privileged also have ownership of any so called “neutral space”, which can defy its existence.

In class on Monday we debated the validity and authenticity of communities formed or maintained online. Many people in class agreed that communities formed online produce “drive-by” relationships that do not foster trust or commitment from members. However, technology can aid in maintaining pre-existing communities. For example, Facebook may help maintain ties that are formed in real life if members of the community become physically distanced. As an example, we discussed how the Parkour community is grounded in corporeal reality, but information is disseminated through an online community, and this community can manifest in physical spaces anywhere in the world because it is not tied to a specific place. This reminds me of Webber, who proposed that accessibility to a group of interest is more important than physical nearness to community members. An increase in transport and availability of information relating to a distant community aids in the ability of people to join these communities of interest. Following from this logic, it seems that online communities are just another form of technology that helps to connect people to whatever group they are interested in. If this is the case, can we really conclude that relationships formed online are not authentic or constitute strong ties? Is there something vital about sharing a physical space that makes a connection more genuine?

To that end, we discussed how technology has changed the way we embody physical space (eg. one might be physically present, but not actually interacting with those around them because they are absorbed in their technology). Is it possible that in the future relationships online will become more important than having some sort of shared physical space? If so, I am wondering what the consequences of that would be, and what the problem with having important online relationships is, if they provide equal sociability and support to what would be gained through face-to-face interactions.

In Driskell & Lyon’s study, they argued that since it is “easier to replace the relationship, change chat rooms, or ‘move’ to another virtual community” (382) online than it is to alter your face-to-face interactions with people, online relationships have limited liability and therefore do not constitute community. Do people find this argument convincing? I can understand it to some extent, but I think technology has also aided people in the ability to identify new physical spaces they could interact with, allowing them more flexibility and mobility in corporeal communities. What’s more, I’m not sure how much liability one feels to their neighbors or co-workers, for example, simply because they embody a shared space.

We also discussed the level of homogeneity that might be necessary for the formation of a community. It seems intuitive that people look for others like themselves to spend time with, and that tension within a group is reduced if everyone in the group shares similar interests and values. That being the case, perhaps communities are inherently homogenous to some extent, particularly if they are not tied to a physical space, and are instead formed by shared interests. In class, we were left wondering if it was possible to balance a desire to be surrounded by like-minded people, but also to experience diversity and exposure to different perspectives. I thought it was particularly enlightening when someone commented that you cannot form a community without having something in common, but having something in common doesn’t necessarily mean it is a homogenous group of members. I think this applies really well to our discussion of online communities, as they might be formed around a common interest, but the group members could come from very different backgrounds. Can this ideology also be applied to some of the other communities we have studied? In those examples, is the common trait that binds people only the physical space they share?

Sociologist Elijah Anderson speaks directly to the community saved framework, which demonstrates that to regenerate community in urban spheres, humans seek to organize around networks of kinship and common values in active constructions of community. He asserts that “cosmopolitan canopies” have developed in opposition to the “blasé attitude” (15) and distinct social barriers to connection and community strength that characterize the modern city. Cosmopolitan canopies, which Anderson discusses as products of community revitalization, are neutral social settings where diverse people can interact and enjoy the space.

I think it is interesting viewing how the community saved framework operates through a structural functionalist lens, which allows us to view modern community spaces and social groups as serving a greater function for the larger urban setting by cultivating resources and weak ties through which important needs are met. Spaces constructing community seem to serve vital functions for their participants, as well as existing as social and entertainment spaces. In Anderson’s description of The Terminal, a space he deems a cosmopolitan canopy, he demonstrates that the civility and relative diversity of the space allows people to “engage in folk ethnography and formulate or find evidence for their folk theories about others with whom they share the public space” (21). Therefore, the space serves a function of allowing people to consciously learn about each other. Aside from being a space of leisure and consumption, Anderson writes that “when diverse people are eating one another’s food, a social good is performed for those observing. As people become intimate through such shared experiences, certain barriers are prone to be broken”. (17) Therefore, his argument hinges upon the diversity of a space as central to its functionality.

Given this, how do we contend with spaces that lack such diversity, but still operate in line with the community saved framework? One example of this is the nightclub, “The Spot”, which sociologist Marcus Hunter discusses in his piece, The Nightly Round: Space, Social Capital, and Urban Black Nightlife. People used “The Spot”, both for entertainment and partner selection, and to access a network of weak ties that provided a variety of resources and opportunities to fulfill their basic living needs, demonstrating the complex hierarchy of functionality described by the community saved framework. He writes that “The nightly round–a process encompassing the social interactions, behaviors, and actions involved in going to, being in, and leaving the club–is used to mitigate the effects of social and spatial isolation, complementing the accomplishment of the daily round” (166). However, The Spot is used by predominantly black populations, which does not represent the diversity that Anderson spoke about in his description of cosmopolitan canopies. It is clear how this type of community illustrates the community saved framework in that it is actively constructed and utilized by its participants to fit their needs, but would it be considered a cosmopolitan canopy? Is a cosmopolitan canopy even necessary for community revitalization? The Spot doesn’t suggest it is.

In what ways does Anderson’s definition of a cosmopolitan canopy limit which spaces can serve the function that cosmopolitan spaces provide? As I contend with Anderson’s discussion of the neutrality of places like the Terminal, I struggle with whether a non-judgmental, truly liberated, and neutral space can exist. The Terminal may appear diverse, but it also has the potential to be a white space masquerading as a diverse canopy, in which class and racial divides still exist subtly. Are marginal identities inherently mapped on to individuals regardless of the setting, particularly in diverse spaces? Perhaps the cosmopolitan canopy Anderson describes serves to allow white individuals to learn more about people of other races and ethnicities, but I question whether it serves a similar function for non-white individuals in the space. It merely seems to put the onus of educating and sharing on people of color existing in the space.

Similarly, does there have to be some semblance of homogeneity for a community to fully function? The community saved framework shows how community revitalized through a shift towards active and need-based communities. Based on the examples through the readings, it seems that there must be a certain level of homogeneity within the community for it to operate in its true form. The nightclub was racially homogeneous, the Terminal economically homogeneous. Even the community of pigeon flyers, from Colin Ferolmack’s The Global Pigeon, demonstrated homogeneity in the gender identity of the flyers. Based on this analysis, Anderson’s theory of the cosmopolitan canopy seems incomplete in its lack of discussion about the need for a common source of connection.

Are there ways that diverse communities can form that represents heterogeneity in a genuine light? Is this important or necessary moving forward?

During our discussion of the High Line one question remained: what is the point of the High Line? Financially, it made more sense to keep the structure standing than tear it down but what is the High Line’s main function or goal? Designers and friends of the High Line repeat mantras of keeping it “simple, wild and slow” (62) but does the uber constructed atmosphere refute the statement? It appears that the goal of the High Line was to provide New Yorkers with an escape from their bustling lives but in the process, they ended up perpetuating the divide between the privileged and the disadvantaged.

The High Line is a socio political disaster that hides under a guise of being inclusive and natural when in reality, who is invited and who is discouraged from entering is a highly restrictive process. Loughran used the example of people sleeping on the Diller-Von Furstenberg Sundeck to point at the immense amount of privilege that is commonly paraded on the High Line. Anywhere else in New York, someone sleeping on a bench in public viewed as criminal, especially if that person is of color. This perception changes if you are a white person taking a nap at the High Line. You are viewed as partaking in a leisure activity while others are persecuted. Privilege is also shown in the ways nature is depicted on the High Line. It appears to be perfect and effortless when in reality, even the trash is policed and kept out of plain sight.

Another problem with the High Line is the selective community engagement. Visitors are presented with an illusion of choice that lets them shuffle between a couple art vendors and booths selling artisanal ethnic delicacies that were picked out for them in advance. The application process for vendors is long and tedious and most of the time they end up not selling anything because the visitors look at the art but they don’t buy it. The Friends of the High Line won’t allow typical New York street food vendors to sell on the tracks, instead they hire vendors that sell tamarind popsicles and other treats. The street food vendors continue their business on the ground level street near the entrance.

The High Line caters to the middle and upper class, leaving all those who identify out of the two groups in the dust. Though the mission might label itself as inclusive and open, the practices are extremely restrictive and polarizing for most.

As more and more “High Lines” pop up across the United States, my hope is that they are more intentional with their design. advertising and implementation process so that they don’t repeat the mistakes of the High Line. I don’t think that much is being done to change the space; people have accepted it as the way things are but it’s definetaly not they way things have to be. Hopefully, future spaces will find a way to bridge the economic and social divide by encouraging real cultural engagement and exchange and promoting all types of diversity, not just the kinds that would fit in with the image they are trying to construct.

Michael Dear carefully discusses the post modern city and the characteristics associated with them. Meanwhile, Cheng illustrates the controversy in West San Gabriel Valley in California caused by the community demographics and changing environment. If we place the empirical terms regarding urban dynamics Michael Dear introduces in his piece on the Los Angeles school onto Wendy Cheng’s article on “Remapping Race in Suburban California” it is clear there is some overlap. I would like to demonstrate how West San Gabriel Valley residents experience minoritizaiton, the Politics of Nature, and the city itself being a dual city. I have drawn from Dear’s article to use his jargon to explain the urbanism West San Gabriel Valley is encountering.

Minoritization is prevalent in SGV due to the hierarchy of political figures in the community. Dear defines minoritization as “the population feeling as other; is the order of the day, and where most city dwellers feel distanced from the power structure” (Jencks, 1993, p. 84). The residents of SGV feel disconnected from the power structure because the people in power have different agendas than most people in the community. Although, Latina/o residents tried to access city politics, “white elite’s continu[ed] to have control over city politics” (Cheng, 136). One quote which illustrates the maintenance of ‘other’ in these communities while these specific race/ethnic groups hold power is, in the West SGV, Asian space and Spanish/Mexican space were triangulated vis-à-vis whites: in municipal politics, white elites were able to dictate the terms of belonging, often validating Spanish space as central to the identity of the area, while continuing to treat Asian space as perpetually foreign” (Cheng 132). This quote illustrates that even when Asians and Spanish/Mexicans dominate the area, they are still minoritized and their voices are not heard. The white elites are in minority and yet they dominate the decisions made in the community without regard to the cultures of other community members. This reinforcement of minoritization in SGV creates a divide in the community and ultimately, demonstrates a postmodern place.

Secondly, SGV has manipulated the nature of the community by implementing sports fields over the cultural park which was designed by a Mexican immigrant, Benjamin Dominguez. This park was part of SGV’s nature. The idea of Politics of Nature originates from Dear’s article stating, “there is often a careless unrolling of the carpet of urbanization over the natural landscape for more than century” (Dear, 22). By erasing the park, which provides the city with nature, the people in power, implemented a soccer field and baseball field which “were met rapidly with opposition” by the other residents of the community. This was not only erasing the natural beauty but also a cultural tie many residents had to the Monster Park. This illustrates yet another way SGV is a postmodern city.

Lastly and most evidently, SGV is a dual city. Dear defines a dual city as, “an increasing social polarization” which has become increasing salient in SGV. SGV specifically is divided North-South and East-West. The author cites the reason of this division being “the more subtle struggles in the civic landscape as well as in local politics” especially the economic and geographic growth SGV has recently encountered. These division are also through social class where “most those living north of Harrington were servants and laborers (Cheng, 142). These specific examples highlight how SGV is a dual city which again labels it has an urban center.

It appears these qualities of the city are detrimental to SGV. Many of the residents feel they do not have a voice and no longer feel a sense of belonging to their community since their culture is being erased through modernization and technology. However, I still wonder if this is specific to SGV due to the demographics and agents to frequent this community or if there are other communities who are experiences these issues?

In our class discussion about the High Line we talked about theories of political economy and the physical features of the park, but one of our largely unanswered questions was, what is the point of the High Line? In this post, I propose that individual visitors to the High Line, agents in the High Line’s development and the City of New York use and associate with the High Line to gain status.

The High Line is not a large plot of open grassy space nor does it offer many places to sit and stay. Instead, it is a long, elevated and linear pathway that winds by a selection of carefully curated art and food vendors.  In class, those who have visited the High Line commented that even accessing the vendors is difficult because of the constant flow of people along the path. So, are people visiting this place just to walk through it? In the most general sense the answer must be no, because if people visited the High Line for the sole purpose of walking they could be doing that on any sidewalk in Manhattan. There must be something that people are getting from the experience of walking on this particular pathway. I propose that people are going to the High Line for the status that occupying the space gives them. Recently, multiple social media platforms such as Instagram and Snap Chat have become increasingly location based with features such as geofilters and location tags. In the age of this specific type of social media, people can track and show others where they have been. As a result, the locations that we associate ourselves with through social media become part of our online presence and identity. Therefore, when people associate themselves with a place, such as the High Line, that is perceived as popular and cool their own status is elevated.

The framework of the political economy provides us with “five areas of agreement” about urban spaces. One of these areas is the importance of government and politics and another point is that actors, such as individuals or corporations, can impact urban environments.  Loughran’s piece on the High Line mentions the co-founders of Friends of the High Line, Josh David and Robert Hammond, multiple times. Lourghran mentions that, “the initial meeting between David and Hammond has … taken on mythic status” (55) and that the co-founders have written a book about their High Line project. In founding Friends of the High Line, David and Hammond not only became major actors in shaping a piece of New York but also gained a degree of notoriety and status for their work in the park’s development. Part of my expert question asked about the role that the non-profit plays in navigating between local politics, corporate desires and the public good. There are many ways David and Hammond could have gone about developing the High Line, and yet they chose to start a non-profit. Why might these two have chosen to do this work through the founding of a non-profit organization? Why are they working with politicians and government through the non-profit rather than, for example, running for office? Why might they be affiliating with corporate brands through Friends of the High Line rather than as private investors buying the High Line as property and renting out commercial space? How might doing this work through Friends of the High Line elevate their status and allow them to work more flexibly with major agents such as corporations and local government?

Urban political economy also reminds us that cities are part of a competing global hierarchy and, as industry is being traded in for idea economies, people have more flexibility in choosing where they live. Now that people are not necessarily being drawn to urban centers to work in factories, what is drawing people to spend time in and live in urban centers? We have discussed multiple reasons why people might want to live in or visit a city, but in a time when the factories a city contains do not define its utility, what factors make one city more attractive or competitive than another? I wonder how cities might be trying to use projects like the High Line to develop and curate an individual aesthetic that is meant to make the city a more unique and thus desirable attraction.

This past week we have discussed the postmodern city paradigm, which argues that the historical processes and modes of production under capitalism, combined with new economic and social arrangements create landscapes that reflect past and present relations of power. This new way of looking at the development of cities is a departure from the Chicago School’s already established depiction of how cities develop.  This new paradigm pushes against the Chicago School by proposing that there is no singular or dominant approach to understanding contemporary city development and to suggest one is contradictory to the very notions of postmodernism. Contemporary urbanism, as a result of this new paradigm, posits very different forms that a city can take. One of these forms a city can take is a heteropolis.  A heteropolis is defined as a city that is characterized by a high degree of diversity. After reading, “The Changs Next Door to the Diazes” by Wendy Cheng, it became evident that one could categorize the West San Gabriel Valley, as described Cheng, as a heteropolis.  The West SGV is specifically characterized by its high degree of diversity of both Mexican-Americans and Asian Americans. My expert question based off of Cheng’s piece was focused on how the local government have tried and often failed to shape the cultural reputation of the GSV.  My question further explored how the large amount of diversity, possibly stemming from the heteropolis structure of the city, actually prohibited the West GSV from having one dominate cultural identity.

Throughout this course, we have seen how governmental policies have shaped the creation of certain residential areas such as the “iconic ghetto” and the suburbs. In Cheng’s piece she focuses on how a local governmental official tried to shape the cultural reputation of San Gabriel by proposing the creation of  the “Golden Mile” (151). Albert Hung, who was the sole Asian American on the city official council, put forth the “Golden Mile” proposal. Hung imagined the Golden Mile as a “ ‘destination district’ with an emphasis on its rich heritage and… Asian and fusion cultures” (153). Although Hung was viewed favorably on the council, his proposal received harsh opposition that was clearly expressed in racial terms. The opposition, which consisted primarily of Mexican-Americans and whites, believed that Hung’s proposal was not pushing diversity and instead was only celebrating the Asian community in San Gabriel. Ultimately, due to it’s hostile reaction, the “Golden Mile” proposal failed to materialize.

When reading about the resistance to Hung’s proposed “Golden Mile” it made me consider why the local government was having such a difficult time establishing a cultural reputation of the area. Although the federal government’s policies were not “intentionally” created to reproduce predominately black and white spaces, their implementation was much more successful in creating cultural reputations than the local governmental policies were in Cheng’s article.   These differing levels of success raised questions in my mind about the differences that the local and federal policies might have on communities. Was the local government less successful because their policies explicitly favored one ethnic group? Did the federal policies have more success because many would argue that their real racial intentions were masked? Is it easier to stop local government policy than federal because of the availability to get one’s voice heard?

However, after our class discussion on the postmodern city paradigm, I began to wonder if the difficulty in establishing a cultural reputation had nothing to do with the differences between local and federal implementation but rather with the structure of the heteropolis itself. While it was not a secret that Asian Americans and Mexican Americans heavily occupied the area, both groups were having trouble asserting their cultural dominance over the area. Ultimately, it boiled down to a battle of power dynamics within the area. Since none of the groups faced any sort of “social isolation” due to the high level of diversity in the area, they all had a vested interest in establishing the area’s cultural identity. The battle over who got to assert their dominance ironically precludes the West GSV from turning into an ethnic enclave because the heteropolis structure prevents one group from creating a majority. In this sense, this power struggle fits directly into the contemporary urbanism thesis since the present power relations within the community were directly reflecting the landscape or lack of cultural landscape in the West GSV.