Last week, we read Lance Freeman’s chapter “Making Sense of Gentrification.” He provides first hand experiences of residents of Clinton Hill and Harlem that allow for the analyzation of gentrification in urban spaces. He explains that gentrification can be examined by focusing on both the demand and supply side of urban living. In other words, gentrification can be attributed to shifts in consumer preferences and the cyclical nature of capital and its constant search for the highest rate of return. Hence, historically black neighborhoods are becoming much more white, and this racial/class change comes with many implications like whites demand for better resources. In class, I discussed the ways in which we see the “improvements” occurring in these gentrified spaces. However, I want to specifically discuss how gentrification can be attributed to the fluctuating relationship among capital investments and the production of urban space (the Economic Process Theory).

As the population of the world increases, cities are increasingly expanding to allow housing for new residents who have jobs in these metropolitan areas. However, as the new urban middle class has proven to us, there is an increasing desire to be close to the city center. Even though the 20th century was a time where a suburban lifestyle was desired, the new generation of middle class individuals have shown a higher tendency to prefer urban living.

An important aspect in defining and observing gentrification is the way in which capital flows into a place. Freeman particularly analyzes Clinton Hill and Harlem as places that have experienced gentrification. In his chapter, he discusses the neighborhoods that surround these two historically black neighborhoods. Places like West Chester and Cobble Hill have very high housing prices. However, housing prices are much lower in Clinton Hill and Harlem. Therefore, to real estate agents, business owners, and political figures these low costs are what excited a lot of potential for these places.  

The economic process theory shows us how land amenities like a particular landscape, certain natural resources, or the historicity of a place can lead to economic opportunities and investment. In the case of Harlem and Clinton Hill, it is clear that these neighborhoods have a great location in terms of being close to Manhattan, but with historic brownstones lined up and down the streets. To investors and potential home buyers, it is an attractive space with low housing costs, but all the same amenities as a more expensive neighborhood. Furthermore, as real estate agents soon started to market and sell housing in these neighborhoods, the cultural and physical dynamic of these places changed. In other words, gentrification had begun.

As the new urban middle class moved into Harlem and Clinton Hill, they did not stay silent about the lack of middle class amenities in their new adopted home. This demand for better resources was met with business owners opening stores and providing a market for a wealthier audience. However, existing residents of these places still had a lack of capital that allowed them to purchase items at the same places the new urban middle class individuals shopped at. Nonetheless, it is important to realize the way capital contributes to these changes. Because middle class individuals have different preferences and are able to purchase more luxury items, they will always be met with suppliers that provide these items.

I believe the economic process theory is a very interesting way of thinking about gentrification. There will always be a demand and supply side of housing, and this relationship determines what economic opportunities will stem from it. Also, this post was not meant to look past all the other factors that contribute to gentrification. It was instead to focus on one particular relationship between consumers and producers of place.

In the excerpts from There Goes the ‘Hood, author Lance Freeman takes a deep dive into the gentrification phenomenon. He frames his argument around what he calls “the arrival of whites” into predominately black neighbors. In his analysis he includes testimonials from a variety of residents, including both long-time residents and the new coming white “gentrifiers.” Among the observations from the long-time residents, many cite the white presence for the general improvement of the neighborhood. One observer, Henry, notes, “You’re getting more police protection and everything, as expected. I guess the whites demanded more of the Police Department and they’re just doing their job—what they say are their job.” From Henry’s perspective, the police directly responded to a complaint from the new, wealthy, white community, while they have long neglected the needs of the black neighborhood pre-gentrification. While some connect the rise in police responsiveness to tangible factors such as rising real estate values, improved community activism, and increased investment, others turn to conspiratorial narratives to explain the gentrification question.

The common conspiracy theory expressed by some of these long-time residents suggests a deeply ingrained white superiority complex towards blacks. In some related conspiracy theories, this feeling manifests in truly sinister scenarios. Take for instance the quoted exchange from the movie Boyz N the Hood where Furious explains a conspiracy. “Why is it that there is a gun shop in almost every corner in this community? … For the same reason there’s a liquor store on almost every corner in the black community. They want us to kill ourselves.” This quote illustrates the dark mistrust felt by some blacks toward the white dominated society. The gentrification conspiracy theory doesn’t go as far as the one Furious explains, but the sense that the system is rigged to push blacks out of their communities does have some legitimacy in history. Freeman explains past policies that sound like conspiracies but were actually implemented. Policies such as racially segregated zoning laws, restrictive covenants, and “red lining” are all relics of the past, but the underlying racial overtones are still lodged in the national consciousness.

One cannot ignore how these past policies still inform the opinions of many during the present day. Although economic trends and social movement can explain gentrification concretely, the conspiratorial explanations reveal the racial oppression that many still feel in society today. The movement away from this feeling will be arduous but may be eased by initiatives that lessen the blow gentrification causes long-time black residents. A simple start would be the preservation of historic culture within gentrified neighborhoods. This could indicate that newcomers embrace the cultural aspects and wish to live as a part of the neighborhood rather than create anew based on their own culture. Although a relatively minor initiative, such an act would signal a genuine interest in integration, and disavow the segregationist policies of the past.

In Race, Class, and Politics in the Cappuccino City, Hyra analyzes the effects of a gentrifying Shaw/U Street on race and class relations within the community (both longtime residents, and newcomers). Specifically, he details the phenomenon of “living the wire”, in which people choose to “reside in an ‘authentic’ urban community whose energy and edge are based on preexisting stereotypes of the iconic Black ghetto, where Blackness, poverty and crime are associated with one another” (19).

In Hyra’s analysis of Shaw/U Street, the notion of forming “authenticity” struck me as an important lens to understand gentrification in the postmodern city. Hyra’s observations are most interesting because he describes two distinct forms of “cultural tourism”: living the wire and Black branding. While distinct, both rely on perpetuating a reduced stereotype of the iconic ghetto, which makes me skeptical of defining either phenomenon as “authentic.” As Hyra explains, living the wire is dependent on perpetuating stereotypes of Blacnkess, poverty, and crime. The strongest example that we discussed is the café, with a preserved bullet hole-ridden wall, that sells rosé 40s in brown paper bags in Crown Heights. This production of stereotypical Black culture appropriates Black culture by coopting the role of 40s and Brown Paper Bag policies from their original contexts, and using the objects’ associated “grittiness” as a token for coolness that white people can benefit from. It also negatively associates poverty, alcohol, policing and violence with Blackness.

In contrast to this overtly negative perpetuation of Black stereotypes is Black branding, which is a seemingly more positive form of cultural tourism. Black branding is distinct in that it highlights, and even lauds, a Black history, specifically Shaw/U Street’s history as the “Black Broadway.” It promotes a positive narrative of Black culture. Hyra cites buildings named after Langston Hughes and Duke Ellington as memorialized preservation efforts. Though this narrative is obviously more positive than preserving stereotypes of violence, drugs and poverty with Blackness, both demonstrate phenomenon in which white individuals determine which characteristics of Black culture should exist. One of my expert questions reflecting on this asked: Is Black branding a successful reappropriation of Black culture, or is it still a White narrative? I think it’s a little bit of both. It depends on who is creating the narrative. Hyra suggested that planning council that determined Shaw/U Street’s new brand consisted of both black and white residents. However, he points to the problems that follow cultural tourism: an increase of in white population, lack of community between newcomers and long-term residents, and decreased political voice and power of long-term Black residents, which is really the biggest problem with rebranding a neighborhood. The audience it attracts is no longer its long-term residents.

After discussing these questions in class and reading Ocejo’s Masters of Craft, I reflected on the relationship between U Street’s development as successful reappropriation of Black culture or perpetuating a white narrative. This can be looked at in tandem with our discussion of the postmodern city as a place of tolerance, and further, as a place for cultural omnivores. These qualities illustrate a changing paradigm of urban values: tolerance and diversity are emphasized, or at least seeming diverse is a priority, as opposed to more overt, historical urban racism. To what extent does cultural preservation use Black culture as a token for white development? Is this priority of diversity an authentic step of progress, or does this quality of a postmodern city still cater toward a white narrative?

Freeman’s There Goes the ‘Hood: Views of Gentrification from the Ground Up explains gentrification, its after effects and extensive background and history. He touches on why whites flood a neighborhood, the increase in services and infrastructure after they arrive and the reaction from the people who were there before them. Reading Freeman’s thoughts on gentrification made me question my own and the veracity and validity of my feelings. For most the word gentrification brings up negative and unsettling thoughts of POC communities being displaced in favor of Whole Foods and luxury housing but for some it is not an innately negative word. They think about the increase in property values and the potential for community members to benefit from the improvements.

Sometimes, the conversation about gentrification is hijacked by those who only see the benefits without considering the key stakeholders present such as renters who have lived in a neighborhood for generations or those who value the culture of a certain community. They are invalidating the feelings and experiences of residents by not offering them a seat at the table so they can play a role in the decision making process. Freeman talked about past experiencing with whites shaping how blacks grapple with gentrification but I think that the issue is deeper. Yes, I think trust is a big factor but for a lot of people Freeman interviewed they had a problem the distribution of services such as parks and police presence. Nate on page 111 summed it up, saying “I don’t like that it takes white people moving into our neighborhood to legitimize our concerns, to legitimize the realization of our property values and to make a neighborhood safe”.   It’s even worse when it’s happening in a larger city and neighborhoods are being treated differently depending on demographics of the residents. My main issue with gentrification mirrors Nate’s. Why does my neighborhood all of a sudden matter because a white family decided to revamp and move into the house next door? The addition of public services in the presence of whites just affirms the idea that white people are the most privileged members in society and communities of color will always be second to them. This is infuriating, especially for someone like me who has lived in a place for over a decade, lived the issues first hand and advocated for change to no avail.

I wish I could see gentrification as something that would benefit everyone but the rampant inequalities and disparities seem to increase in communities after they’ve been brought up to the upper class standards. There needs to be a better system of bettering American neighborhoods without the presence of whites being the catalyst for change. Even though I am able to see the problems with gentrification, I can’t suggest a concise solution; the problem is too large and needs individualized planning. Hopefully, we can soon reach a place where everyone in gentrified communities are able to enjoy and reap the benefits of the upgrades without being uprooted and marginalized in their own home environments.

In the readings from There Goes the ‘Hood: Views of Gentrification from the Ground Up, there were many lingering questions that I began to consider in the context of my own neighborhood. In my understanding and experience with gentrification in my neighborhood, subtle changes are noticeable. There is this aspect of familiarity that becomes disturbed when new residents enter a neighborhood. It was when I saw an increase in white people roaming the area that made me question what was going on in East Harlem. Although I noticed this change, I did not notice an entirely new social scene take place. I still saw the same people out playing dominoes, saw my same neighbors every day, and interacted with the same friends. However, the affected familiarity and change still altered aspects of the social and cultural neighborhood.

The reading raised an important point about how the changes in service are affected by the new residents. The reading mentioned instances of the police and how their influence changed depending on who requested the change. In class, another expert question mentioned if there would be a difference between an upper-class black vs. upper-class white gentrifying a neighborhood. While class matters, race holds a vital piece to the puzzle of gentrification. If more police influence were requested in a neighborhood, it would most likely be upheld due to a white resident’s request in comparison to a black resident. Even the usual residents who hang out on the corner are ostracized due to a new resident speaking against something a longtime resident may have been doing for years. The agency to make change becomes vital and will usually fall into the lap of someone that has the privilege to make that change, whether it is subtle or major. From reading these instances, I thought deeply about the changes in my own neighborhood. While I used to think the pop-up café shop or the new store was a cool touch, they actually have a negative effect. A deli that I have been going to for years had to be closed down due to a new store owned by a white resident opening up a block away. These bars and restaurants that open up bring in a new wave of people that interact only with the neighborhood and its gentrified portions.

Another question I asked myself is if gentrification only exists in residents moving in. A new bar opening up that is for wealthier individuals in the surrounding area may bring in white incomers who eventually may want to live in the area due to the amenities. Gentrification doesn’t have to necessarily be a new resident but rather a new consumer to the social amenities in the area. Even the presence of white people that may not live in the area become apparent signs of gentrification. Amenities play a huge role in influencing residents. Even the conception of a neighborhood as “edgy” or “cool” can influence new incomers. I think it would be interesting taking a study that looks solely into why the gentry chooses to live in a specific neighborhood and what factors they look at. While the reading did incorporate the gentry, it would be interesting to understand why these individuals choose specific neighborhoods, surpassing the desire for cheaper rent.

In class last week we discussed the changing patterns of immigration in the United States as well as the challenges of assimilation that immigrants have faced over the years. The written work of Aguilar-San Juan poses an interesting discussion in regards to the sociological differences felt between Vietnamese Americans who reside in Orange County, CA and those who reside in Boston, MA. My expert question stems from this reading, where I asked classmates to think more in depth about the importance of physical place when establishing a sense of community and identity for these immigrants. More specifically, I asked people to think about the significance of how Vietnamese Americans feel a stronger sense of belonging when they live in an area that is culturally similar to where they originate, thus placing an emphasis on the implications of territorializing. Further, I asked classmates to think about how territorializing can be seen at Bowdoin. Aside from pre existing clubs, are there more subtle ways in which people establish their own niches and sense of place on campus in order to feel more assimilated? How is this similar to what we read about the Vietnamese Americans and their sense of identity in a place?

To quickly summarize the reading, Aguilar-San Juan discusses his findings in that Vietnamese Americans found a stronger sense of place and establishment in the smaller population of Orange County than those who lived in the diverse city of Boston. This contradicts what we had learned a previously in class that “cities tend to enhance ethnic distinction” (Aguilar-San Juan, 48). The reading went on to discuss the meaning behind this contradiction and explained how this group of immigrants do not feel as strong a sense of place in Boston because they are grouped in with other minorities and are not recognized by the general population as their own established group. In Boston, Vietnamese Americans are grouped in with the Chinatown population and are labeled as “Asian” instead of their distinct Vietnamese culture. In Orange County, Vietnamese Americans are recognized as their own cultural group because the settlement is less ethnically diverse and they do not have to share an identity with another ethnic group.

Several classmates raised interesting points in regards to my expert question. We discussed how because Boston is already diverse, it is much more difficult for the Vietnamese to establish their own identity. We discussed placemaking at Bowdoin and which groups are successful in producing enclaves due to the lack of critical mass on campus. More specifically, classmates raised interesting points about the LASO group on campus and how there is a language barrier that serves as both an inclusionary and exclusionary aspect for students who are interested. We talked about the consequences of how people integrate themselves into large communities such as the hierarchy of groups that is produced on campus that could be reflective of economic power. We then discussed how different communities are developed based on majors and that there are designated study spaces for certain majors where students studying similar subjects gather to a common space which fosters a community in itself.

Our discussion got me thinking about how much the size of population matters when we think about how these enclaves form. Would we see similar results in specific communities forming if there were twenty people in a room vs two thousand on a college campus? Is it the cultural similarities that draw specific people into communities or do other economic and social factors take precedence?

During class last week, we spoke about the three waves of immigration, migration, and the United States playing their major role as a “nation of immigrants.” The reading that my expert question reflected on was from the Aguilar-San Juan’s piece, Staying Vietnamese: Community and Place in Orange County and Boston. The article starts off by explaining what is needed to form a strong sense of community and the patterns involving community and place. He mainly focuses on the Vietnamese American population in the culturally diverse Boston, Massachusetts and the homogenous suburb, Orange County, California.

The reading compares both Vietnamese American populations and tries to understand the differences of the make up of their communities. It is found that the affluent population of Orange County has a stronger sense of place than the smaller population found in the bigger and more diverse city of Boston. This was puzzling because it goes against what Claude Fischer’s subcultural theory of urbanism suggests, which we also were introduced to in class two weeks ago. In the reading, this theory explains that “cities tend to enhance ethnic distinction, at least at an ecological level, because cities have more people than smaller places do. Boston is more culturally diverse sand more densely populated than Orange County. Thus, one would expect Boston to contain more distinct and recognizable Vietnamese American places than Orange County” (Aguilar-San Juan, 48). My expert question then aimed to circulate around this unexpected conclusion that Aguilar-San Juan comes to. I asked whether or not anyone could reflect on where they grew up and/or personal experiences that could either support or weaken this paradox.

Although there were not many personal examples mentioned, the discussion revolved around answering why this paradox exists. We spoke about how Boston has less critical mass than Orange County, leading to the main issue. This problem in Boston stems from the fact that Boston is such a diverse urban city that it is then difficult to congregate together as a Vietnamese American population. Boston is filled with immigrants from all over, therefore, making it challenging to assemble a strong sense of a community for one culture. Although there is a distinct village called Fields Corner, other Bostonians don’t realize that this is the “Vietnamese Village” of Boston (Aguilar-San Juan, 37). On the other hand, people pointed out that because there are more institutions established in Orange County’s Little Saigon – their Vietnamese American community – there is a more distinctive sense of their culture. Authenticity of culture was also a major point that was brought up in class because with it creates a physical space that reflects your hometown culture accurately. Overall, we concluded that because Orange County is much smaller, yet has a more critical mass of Vietnamese Americans, it is easier for them to collectively form a stronger sense of community and place there.

This discussion in class raised another question in my mind. I understand the pattern that most immigrants usually choose to reside in large urban cities when they come to the U.S. because of the opportunities that exist there. However, because of this paradox, I am curious about whether or not moving out to the suburbs will become more of the norm than living in these big cities for immigrants. Because critical mass plays such an important role, do you think that the popularity of living in the cities is going to decrease because it’s harder to create these strong senses of community?

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.

When attempting to apply the concept of a cosmopolitan canopy to Bowdoin College, it was evident the College intended to represent the concept from the exterior.  When viewed from a student’s perspective, rather than a visitor’s [or anyone not familiar with Bowdoin], the class agreed that Bowdoin did not truly represent a cosmopolitan canopy.  Bowdoin is an “imagined community” based on the shared experiences of going to the College; however, it may not be a cosmopolitan canopy even though the College hopes to cultivate itself into one.

As a class, we acknowledged Bowdoin as a product of the administration.  Cosmetically, the College is increasingly diverse in the terms of characteristics that comprised a class of different people, from different backgrounds, with different ideas which play an integral part in the education and the growth of individuals within our community.  This image, designed by the administration, intimated a cosmopolitan canopy; however, due to the barriers of entry (education, upbringing, and admissions criteria), Bowdoin lacked the ability to function as a cosmopolitan canopy.  The College attempts to create a cosmopolitan canopy by admitting a diverse student body and by hiring a diverse faculty and staff, but as Anderson elaborates, although all racial groups may be present they may not be present proportionally (16).  In relation to the College, this under representation of racial groups combined with the lack of neutral or commercial spaces within the campus perpetuates a large white space.  Consequently, this negates any cosmopolitan canopy from occurring outside of a limited range of spaces on campus.  The College does not adequately provide enough neutral spaces that would allow for a cosmopolitan canopy, although Bowdoin tries to promote this image through their media portrayal of HL, Smith Union, Buck Fitness Center, and the dining halls on campus.

Within these spaces, students tend to cluster in groups of similarity rather than engage in folk ethnography.  This occurs because these places do not necessarily provide safe spaces for students (especially white, upper-middle-class, straight students) to test their assumptions and ideas about communities of color regarding aspects of the iconic ghetto.  Likewise, this does not allow for students of color to map their prejudices to the white space on the white students regardless of economic background.  Folk ethnography occurred on some level in these spaces, yet lacked proportionally when aligned to include racial groups.

Professor Greene discussed this idea in relation to Bowdoin’s homecoming on campus the prior week.  He explained two events happened simultaneously (intentionally); first, a BBQ, held near the football game which consisted of a large mainly white group while the second group, the AFAM, hosted a similar event at 30 College Street.  This represented a community of limited liability for returning alumni, free to enter and exit as they desired.  It also displayed the concept of collective memory and its application on the campus.  The alumni reclaimed and shared these spaces with current students.  This shared experience that a reunion and a homecoming weekend offer is interesting because it shows even through time we are connected to these alumni through place.  The spaces alumni have reclaimed seem to have taken on old and similar meaning to what is present today.  This can be viewed as a perpetuating cycle that is demonstrated today through the large white space that encompasses Bowdoin.  The smaller racial groups on campus are avoiding the large white spaces which negate any neutral or safe space to engage in folk ethnography.

Our discussion spurred two issues, the first is that Bowdoin (as an organization) attempts to promote the campus as a cosmopolitan canopy.  The second issue is the notion of the imagined Bowdoin community which arises through a shared affiliation to the College.  Cosmopolitan canopies, at least as Anderson defines them, do not exist at Bowdoin.  The quandary then becomes how do students on campus find and participate in cosmopolitan canopies?  Do student groups (LASO, AFAM) function as cosmopolitan or spontaneous cosmopolitan canopies in relation to these large white spaces present on Bowdoin’s campus?  Or does the way the College function as a white space inhibit these student groups from forming communities and engaging in folk ethnography?

Last week, we discussed Anderson’s work on the cosmopolitan canopy. With my expert question, I asked if cosmopolitan canopies are ultimately more helpful or harmful for community building and if we can use the framework of the cosmopolitan canopy to understand social media communities. While discussing this question, Professor Greene asked us to define, what is a cosmopolitan canopy? While we were looking for a definition, what ensued was a conversation, and some disagreement, about what spaces and places would qualify as cosmopolitan canopies.

In the article “The Cosmopolitan Canopy,” Anderson explains that people in cities have developed, “a pervasive wariness towards strangers” (Anderson, 15). However, through his ethnographic work in Philadelphia, he claims that there are certain places, he terms them cosmopolitan canopies, that break this trend of wariness. In these places, people are treated with “a certain level of civility” regardless of their identity and they are able to partake in “folk ethnography.”

While it might seem like many places in an urban setting could qualify as a cosmopolitan canopy, in our class discussion we realized this definition might be harder to fit to a place than suggested by Anderson in his article. I still question the existence of places where people of every identity feel neutral and secure. It seems likely to me that even if people are physically safe and engaging in simple small talk, people of marginalized identities might still be feeling wary. For example, Anderson offers an interaction where “a white man with white-supremacist friends” has a “frank conversation” (Anderson, 20) with Anderson in the Market.  While the man was comfortable talking to Anderson, Anderson does not say whether he himself was comfortable in that space hearing that this man had friends with such views and might hold those views as well. My point is that I am not convinced from our discussion or Anderson’s article that people of different backgrounds feel equally secure and neutral in these spaces.

From this discussion, our class then moved on to wonder, is Bowdoin a cosmopolitan canopy?  I think that the concept of the Bowdoin hello is useful in addressing this question because I believe it shows that while the administration might try to make Bowdoin a cosmopolitan canopy, the space does not fit the definition in reality. The Bowdoin hello is the idea that here at Bowdoin, campus members do not engage in the wariness that Anderson uses to describe urbanites and instead we regularly say hello and engage in small talk with any stranger they might see on campus. However, any Bowdoin community member would tell you that this simply is not true. We do not go around saying hello to every person we see walking by and often times you will see people, “employing elaborate facial and eye work, replete with smiles, nods and gestures geared to carve out an impersonal but private zone for themselves” (Anderson, 15). In this way, I think the concept of the Bowdoin hello and lack of practice illustrates how in reality, despite how we might want to appear, we are not a cosmopolitan canopy.

However, while I was reading Anderson I did recognize many parallels between the Market and Thorne dining hall, most especially Thorne Dining hall during the power outage this week. People in this time and space did talk to strangers and feel safe sharing space with people they might not have known. With this observation I wonder, is common experience the key to achieving relative neutrality and civility? Is eating the same food, or surviving the same storm what allowed us to relate to each other, even if only in a superficial way? Thus, are canopies just the places where there are commonalities strong enough to bring us together but not so niche that they keep out certain groups? I also wonder, if Thorne dining hall is not always a cosmopolitan canopy but only was one during the storm, is there a temporal element to this concept? Can places be canopies during an event and then lose this element of their existence?