My question focused on the heterogeneity of the LGBTQ community and the significance of ephemeral place-making for the community. Ghaziani asserts that one cannot fully understand urban sexualities without shifting the conversation away from “spatial singularity” and the assumption that “queer life is curiously located in one part of the city.” The common narrative expresses a concentration of queer life within the specific, established gayborhood within a city, but this assumption generalizes the queer population as well as homogenizes their experiences. The emphasis on gayborhoods in cities correlates with the use of queer culture for entertainment and business. As discussed during last Monday’s class and Orne’s texts, gayborhoods are becoming more like “Gay Disneylands” as cities emphasize “going-out” and entertainment through queer culture. Gayborhoods have become less of places of residence. In fact, although the capitalization of queer culture has increased, less and less of the residents in the gayborhoods are queer. The use of gayborhoods as attractions and places to “safari” therefore takes away from the identity and safety they once provided for queer people.

One major generalization is that these gayborhoods and the institutions within them (ex. gay bars) are inclusive of all queer people. However, queer subgroups such as queer women and queer people of color do not necessarily integrate into these spaces. For example, in class we learned that gay bars were racially segregated in the past. Likewise, the assumption that these places are becoming less significant now because of greater acceptance of the LGBTQ community also arises when generalizing the experiences of gay, white males. According to Ghaziani, a solution to this assumption is to conceptualize sexuality in cities with cultural archipelagos that represent different subgroups of the LGBTQ community with their own distinct spaces. Cultural archipelagos explain the rise of ephemeral queer pop-ups because pop-ups give these subgroups the opportunity to create their own, culturally significant places.

In my question, I wondered how queer pop-ups could avoid becoming sources of entertainment like other queer spaces have become in the past. Gay bars and gayborhoods are not necessarily the only victims of this phenomenon. For example, although events such as pride parades symbolize the strength and solidarity of the LGBTQ community and its allies, one can make the argument that certain participants characterize them as “go-to events” rather than queer place-making. This perspective enables the exploitation of such culturally significant events. Because queer pop-ups are specific to certain subgroups, it is possible that they are inclusive in practice but exclude those with the potential of exploiting them for the purpose of entertainment. However, even queer pop-ups have limitations. For example, those who are able to successfully organize a pop-up are those with social and economic capital. Therefore, is it possible for there to be a fully inclusive space for queer people? Despite the limitations, queer pop-ups provide spaces specific to marginalized queer subgroups, catalyzing unique queer place-making.

I also pondered how the ephemerality of queer pop-ups differs from the ephemerality of festivals. The ephemerality of festivals form a divide between these events and the culture and people of the cities, but I would argue that the ephemerality of queer pop-ups contributes to their identities as spaces for queer people. The pop-ups are unique in their spaces as well as their times and represent the fact that queer people can make inclusive places for themselves without having an established space. Manveer also made an interesting point in class that queer pop-ups are designed to be more frequent then events like festivals. Because pop-ups are events that queer people can look forward to periodically, they produce a happy medium between long-standing gay bars and annual festivals.

Orne claims that the gayborhood was traditionally held together by two main forces: the freedom to live separate of the heterosexual family unit and the outside hate/bias that was more present. These two forces led certain gay men to form a tighter community from which new cultural realities were developed. In class we explored Orne’s take on the idea that the gayborhood is changing due to queer communities experiencing greater acceptance within larger social contexts. He claims gay men can now live anywhere, and so local residential value in gayborhoods is less essential for gay men in cities. Instead, interest in gay consumerism (whether for gay or straight communities) is emphasized in these gayborhoods, and Disney-fication develops.

While it makes sense that acceptance gives many gay men the privilege of residential freedom, the ramifications of assimilation don’t equally benefit everyone, nor are they the ideal solution.

First of all, being able to comfortably live openly-queer lives is something that has historically been limited in many ways to gay, white, middle-class men, as discussed in Wednesday’s lecture. In this sense, the concept of assimilation and the power of the vicarious citizen is something that is not necessarily accessible to other minority demographics.

Additionally, like I mentioned in Monday’s class, even if assimilation and access to vicarious citizenship become perfectly enjoyable by any and all queer-identifying people, the majority of a city population will still likely be straight-identifying. Thus, even without bias, there is still an inherent privilege that heterosexuals enjoy by living in predominantly heterosexual spaces. In this way, gayborhoods and gay bars become essential to serving an underserved population. Even in perfect assimilation, queer culture and queer spaces should not be lost.

The discussion on Wednesday provided a potential way to balance the contradictions between wanting to enjoy the perks of assimilation while wanting to preserve identity and visibility. Queer pop-ups in the framework of cultural archipelagos suggest that queer expressions in the city are changing towards more productive forms. Queer pop-ups have better potential for catering to sexy communities, intersectionality, and diversity across queer cultural archipelagos as opposed to some of the more Disney-fied, longterm queer establishments. For example, queer pop-ups can cater to queer and trans people of color, queer youth, etc. On the other hand, some gay bar may be more frequented by older, white, middle-class, gay men. Queer pop-ups can also be accessible and visible, while also making it harder for privileged communities (white, straight, etc.) to monopolize them and integrate them into the city’s entertainment machine.

However, it is still important for the gayborhood and its amenities to exist. The contribution of a permanent, physical, queer institution (like a gay bar) in a city is still essential to queer communities. Orne suggests that the physical spaces that constitute the gayborhood, Disney-fied or not, are still frequented by a significant queer community in the city. By beginning to embrace more ephemeral, diverse events, places like gay bars are also welcoming more queer individuals that do not necessarily live in the local gayborhood. As we learned on Wednesday, these vicarious citizens play an important role in preserving the queer community through politics and culture.

Thus, a balance between permanent institutions and queer pop-ups proves to be currently essential for diverse queer communities to thrive. Acknowledging this allows us to also expand the ways in which we understand queer communities to innovate upon and contribute to the urban setting.

In my question, I asked about how our readings about the gay nightlife in the Gayborhood compared to what we learned about urban nightlife through the lense of Grazian, who described them as spaces that “lacked any strong sense of emotional solidarity with one another”. I asked this question because after reading Orne’s chapters about how the gay nightlife scene was integral in creating a “queer habitus”, it was hard for me to agree as much with Grazian, who seemed to see nightlife as not very real, important sources of community. In class, we discussed whether or not these spaces were needed anymore in this post-gay era we live in, and if these spaces were still authentically queer due to the fact that they have been changed by an increase in straight people living in gay neighborhoods, and because of that have to become more watered down to appeal to a straight audience. In class, we learned about slumming, a practice that dates back to the 20th century where wealthy (generally white) individuals would go into minority spaces to get a taste of the “danger” and “otherness” that those areas presented. When applied to our readings, we could consider bachelorette parties as a modern form of slumming, because they are the dominant sexuality (straight) going into gay bars for a night because it’s “different” and “exciting”. Because of a decrease in gay people living in gayborhoods and the influx of straight people taking their place, gay bars and nightclubs have had to de-sexualize their establishments in order to attract these straight patrons to even keep their doors open. Because of this, the authenticity of these establishments as “gay” is questioned; do these still count as gay nightclubs that teach gay men the “queer habitus”, or have they simply become nightclubs frequented by both gay and straight individuals that now lack their former influence in the gay community? Some students in class argued that Grazian was, in fact, saying that urban nightlife forms a real community and social networks, but just different ones from their ordinary communities. They said that Grazian was talking about people were looking for separate communities that were just for entertainment and fun, not that they were completely unimportant. Although not much discussion was had over the intended question, it left me more thinking about this recurring issue of authenticity and how it’s harmed by gentrification, and if this leads to a loss of importance in previously necessary spaces like gay nightclubs. Because we live in an apparently “Post-Gay” Era, and Gayborhoods are falling victim to straight gentrification, have gay nightclubs that previously were staples of the gay community and places of safety and togetherness lost their influence? Does the fact that they have to cater more to straight people to make enough money mean that they can no longer be places for young gay men to learn the “queer habitus” that is so necessary in Orne’s eyes to pick up? What are the next steps for these establishments? Without them being as “authentic” as they previously were, where will the next spaces be that teach young/new gay men what it means to be “queer” in the 21st century?

My question focused on making sense of gentrification as an inevitable repercussion of economic development of urban areas. In “Race, Class, and Politics in the Cappuccino City,” Derek Hyra emphasizes the government’s role in developing D.C’s downtown as a necessity for economic growth, as it provided more jobs and welcomed suitable housing for individuals settling into the city for their new jobs. There has been a wave of “white flight” back into the city as suburban residents seek new job opportunities and the entertaining thrills in the city. The government partnered with private developers to accommodate the need for housing, as DC did not have the financial assistance of taxpayers to raise funds (as over 50% of DC’s land-government agencies, nonprofits, public universities are non-taxpaying entities). Because of DC’s focus to develop the inner-city as a trendy, entertainment machine, minority residents that have historically occupied those spaces become displaced and outcasted within their own neighborhoods, specifically Shaw/U Street. 

This process of gentrification, where wealthier, typically-white residents overtake political and spatial power from long-term, typically-working class inhabitants and completely transform the “community,” is seen negatively from a social standpoint. However, from an economic perspective, gentrification seems inevitable as the government, corporations, and even incumbent residents can invest in the production of urban space (able-inhabitants participate in “incumbent upgrading” and are usually the first wave of gentrifiers). It can also be argued that it is advantageous to the city, as it results in improved infrastructure, higher job outlook, and positive visibility. The government is placed in a tough situation,  where it is aware of the political disadvantages of the displaced/outcasted minorities and the cultural/financial divide they face, but want to ensure the city’s prosperity. What policies can it implement to ensure fairness for both parties involved? Many of the issues arising from gentrification is because of the distinct racial and socioeconomic divide. With these visible disparities (ie. African Americans lining up in front of the food pantry or near a homeless shelter that is right across from a new, luxury condo), old-timer residents feel even more uncomfortable in the space they call ‘home.” With increasing housing values and feelings of unbelonging, many of them don’t find the area worth the price and leave the community they built their identity from. Based on this evidence, is it possible to obtain the so-called ideal mixed-income housing model where there is a balance of healthy, collaborative space between people of different socioeconomic backgrounds?

The class discussion involved several governmental approaches: rent control and subsidized housing, equal investments to various urban spaces, and initiating community-building that promoted an integrative, collaborative environment. While these all seem like very plausible solutions, I feel like it is difficult to implement because long-term residents still feel the societal pressures of lacking a community of which to call home. The fact that the government is helping to alleviate competitive housing prices might cause an emotional burden on the residents, as they feel like they do not have enough social or moral capital to sustain themselves. This will especially be the case as the city becomes more developed, more people with different values and goals come in; the city will stray away from the place you once knew.

The reading also touched upon how the political leadership of minorities, such as figures of the Black Machine, gave a voice to lower-income, working-class residents who were subjected to racial discrimination. These poor, dangerous communities of the city were considered factors that lead to white flight into the suburbs. I am curious if the rise of African American political power in DC will enable African American residents of Shaw/U Street, as well as the white gentrifiers, to become more integrated based on the political collaboration and economic policies. There is also the possibility that another “white flight” could occur because the white residents feel like they’re not as represented. Trying to find a balance between newcomers who contribute knowledge and entertainment to the city’s economy, and old-timers who have a historical right to remain in the neighborhood and work their butts off to do so, is a very fragile process which reflects the intense racial ties and spatial claims groups have to the city.

It is important to realize that this economic and cultural divide brought upon by the government is not just occurring at a permanent level (between old and new residents), but also at a temporary level. The influx of festivals draws newcomers in for a brief amount of time within the spaces of residents and completely changes the community. This demonstrates that profit-driven behaviors of the government and various private organizations who see the positives of festivalization outweighing the negatives. Residents can become tourists within their own city, but is it worth it if their “home” invites more strangers every year? Is there a sense of unity among the community if the government recruits mainstream artists rather than choosing artists that represent the authenticity of the area? It is interesting to see how, in these two cases of permanent and temporary urban renewal, how the social institutions as broad as the government, and their priorities, can influence one’s interpretation of “home” or “community.”

In his book, Music/City: American Festivals and Placemaking in Austin, Nashville, and Newport, Jonathan Wynn jumps into the discussion about the creative class. In previous classes, we discussed how the creative class transformed low-status manual labor jobs to attractive trades for college-educated men and women. Through this process, the creative class redefined these occupations as cool and niche. However, Wynn comments on a different area of the creative class. Rather than looking at individual occupations, Wynn looks at the impact the creative class exudes on the entire city. Through his analysis, he defines the city as an entertainment machine.

           By looking at a city as an entertainment machine, Wynn means that entertainment functions as the growth machine. This means that for the city to grow, it must act as a place where people can consume entertainment. Wynn argues that culture is both consumable and entertaining and thus cities should create a brand from their culture so it can be consumed and therefore the city can grow. However, I hesitate to accept this idea. In class, we look at examples like the Summer Hill Sandwich Shop and Baby Wale where individuals attempted to profit off culture and both examples resulted in culture appropriate. So, if a single restaurant is unable to accurately represent culture, I doubt that an entire city could.

           To see the city as a place of entertainment, Wynn analyzed the use of music festivals. However, I think that these festivals show this misrepresentation in themselves. These festivals are becoming increasingly reliant on the main acts. By this, I mean most people do not get excited to listen to the local bands that are playing on a small stage. The majority of attendees focus their attention on the main acts. And because of this focus, the cities and companies running the festivals put more resources to the large acts because they want to profit. However, in all likelihood, the main acts probably do not represent the culture of the city they are playing in. This contradiction begs the question that if attendees focus on the main acts, can a festival accurately represent a city? Or have external forces such as attendees’ desires, and business and governments need to profit taken authentic culture out of the festivals.

           Another question that Wynn’s theory of the consuming culture brings up is the overlap between culture and gentrification. What is interesting about these two ideas is that they contradict each other. The easiest way to understand this contradiction is to consider an example. A city expresses its culture through architecture. So, Wynn would argue that cities should continue to show their culture through architecture and also create ways for people to consume this culture. And cities do this through making beautiful skyscrapers with observation decks and hourly tours. However, at the same time, cities force the architecture in low-income and impoverished areas to fit a certain mold. Although these areas also express their culture through architecture, this culture is deemed unconsumable and therefore destroyed. I find a contradiction here because Wynn does not want cities to express its culture in all ways. A more accurate representation of his view would say a city should express its culture in modified ways so that it meets the standard of the creative class. Or a city should only represent its cultures that also meet the standard of the creative class.

After reading Jonathan Wynn’s “Music City”, I aimed to center class discussion around the prevalent profit-driven behaviors and motivations of various actors partaking in music festivals. Wynn highlights that cities have shifted their focus from industrial manufacturing to providing residents and tourists alike with services and experiences rather than material goods. Festivals serve as one example of an experience fueling a city’s service driven economy or what Wynn refers to as an “entertainment machine”. The increasing popularity of festivals have attracted the interests of domestic governments and businesses alike as an opportunity for marketing and generating profit. As a result, their involvement in music festivals has commodified the experience of these festivals questioning their authenticity as an accurate representation of the music industry or a local culture.

During class discussion, students thoughtfully engaged with this question by providing specific examples outside of the readings where the profit-driven behavior of certain festival actors is prevalent. An example of business intervention was brought up through the 2017 Bahamian Fyre Festival. Fyre festival was scheduled to take place in April of 2017 on the Great Exuma island in the Bahamas. The festival was founded and funded by the CEO of Fyre Media Inc. and advertised by various social media influencers as a method of attracting a young crowd to the event. When the opening day of the festival came, major technical and organizational issues arose pertaining to food, housing, security, and medical services causing the festival to be a complete failure. In 2018, the CEO of Fyre media was convicted of fraud and false advertising as a result of the festivals outcome. Fyre festival is an extreme example of how businesses use these events as a way to generate revenue and market themselves to a larger audience. In Wynn’s reading, he emphasizes the investment of global firms in the sponsorship of acts at the festivals. Some of these businesses have intervened to the point where they require the artists they are sponsoring to provide them with a setlist which needs to be verified by the firm before they perform. This involvement takes away from the music at festivals by commodifying live acts. Another example we talked about in discussion was Beyonce’s Coachella performance. Wynn acknowledges live performances as the most effective method for artists to generate profit. Beyonce took this profit-driven motivation to a new level by turning her festival performance into a Netflix documentary. This example, along with examples provided by Wynn, demonstrate that despite their passion for music, musicians also have profit-driven ulterior motives for preforming at these festivals.

While our class came up with these examples which successfully supported the profit-driven behavior of festival actors, we also discussed the environments of smaller festivals such as afro-pop which target specific communities and encapsulate a more intimate and music- centered festival experience. Smaller festivals such as afro-pop are much more representative of a specific culture or place than many of the larger festivals we talked about. By targeting a specific audience and reducing barriers to entry, such as high wristband costs, these smaller festivals are better able to embody the community and culture native to a given place. Conversely, larger festivals, such as Lollapalooza and Coachella, have been homogenized through the immense presence of advertisement and organization in a way which takes away from the music industry and instead commodifies the festival experience.

The homogenization of large festivals has allowed me to think of profit-driven behaviors and motivations in an environment beyond festivals and instead to the larger city. Over the summer I had the pleasure of going on a trip to Italy with my family. While we were in Florence, my mom expressed to me that she believes all big cities are starting to become increasingly similar with the influx of the same global-wide businesses having a dominating presence in most major cities. After reflecting on this discussion with my mom and our class discussion I am interested to shed a new light on my original questions: Have firms hunger for profit and desire to expand globally resulted in the homogenization of cities? Are cities, like festivals, losing their unique cultures as a result of these firms? How does our increasingly globalized economy affect the culture and community of a specific place? 

In Race, Class, and Politics in the Cappuccino City by Derek S. Hyra, he depicts the very apparent divide between the old residents and new residents on Shaw/U Street. This historically black community has seen a dramatic shift in its population. Gentrification has resulted in an influx of new white residents that have transformed the community of Shaw/U Street. In my question, I asked how the dramatic change in the population influenced the accessibility of residents, old and new, have to economic and social mobility. Currently, there is clear racial and socioeconomic divide between residents. The influx of new white, middle and upper-class residents began to redevelop the neighborhood that intruded on the original residents; ultimately, furthering the divide between residents. Additionally, how the present divide between residents influence the way in which residents interact with one another? Acknowledging the harm that gentrification has on a neighborhood such as displacing residents and removing their political power, are there any instances where gentrification can be seen in a positive light? For example, transforming a previously known drug heavy and poverty-stricken neighborhood to a trendy, hip, affluent neighborhood. Is this change good? Can there be other positive outcomes of gentrification?

During class, I think that many challenging aspects to integrating the old residents with new residents arose. One being that when the population shifts, the interest of the community also changes. Since the interest of the Shaw/U Street community is changing, residents must learn how to live and interact with one another. This is difficult when the old residents’ voices become unheard. Now, the community is marginalizing the minority voice in order to redevelop the area to continue attracting new residents. The dynamic between residents in the Shaw/U Street is complex because the influx of new white residents were attracted to the neighborhood to live a lifestyle that Hyra refers to as “living the wire”. However, they are attempting to change and renovate the culture of the neighborhood, directly impacting the community that first attracted them to the neighborhood. The class discussion made me think about the ways in which groups of people can be unaware of the impacts of their actions. Is there a way to move and integrate new residents into a community smoothly?

Hyra also discusses black branding to be when a community or environment express and institutionalize parts of Black identity (75). This tactic contributed to the redevelopment of Shaw/U Street by attracting outsiders with Black focus points in the neighborhood which accelerated growth in the economy. In class, we discussed the idea of an “underground economy” that people were forced migrate towards once the influx of new cliental entered the neighborhood. Similar to the shift in culture, I think that another challenge that comes along with a changing neighborhood is the displacement of jobs and housing. This “underground economy” consisted of individual or groups that were out of jobs once the influx of white residents moved to the neighborhood. They did not value or invest in the same businesses; thus, these providers needed to move their goods to where the demand was larger. How does this transition to an underground economy impact the social capital of the provider?

Richard Ocejo discusses how the “creative class” produces a new type of elite consumption. He describes this new class of people as those who embodied the social capital and values of the elite; these individuals are all college-educated and market these new businesses as experiences for the elite. Ocejo describes some of these spaces like those of barbershops and brewery more specifically and describes his observations of how these businesses adhere to new standards of legitimacy. For instance, brewery crafters were not only responsible for the manual labor of crafting these drinks, but the success of these businesses equally necessitated giving tours to costumers and educating these about the process of brewing and the unique flavors they were tasting. Ocejo expresses that it is through their means of obtaining legitimacy that the creative class avoids downward assimilation despite taking these traditions working-class positions.

In class, I questioned whether or not these new businesses which appropriate and adapt working-class careers to elite ideals deepen the social and economic barriers for working-class laborers to obtain these jobs with the same level of perceived legitimacy from consumers. From Ocejo’s ethnography as well as the class discussion, it seems that the ways that social capital is used to raise creative class workers to the levels of artisans rather than workers are inherent in constructing this consumerism as exclusive to the elite buyers.

Previously in this class, we have discussed the process of gentrification as the movement of new business into typically lower to middle-class areas followed by the movement of the employees of these businesses into the residential spaces of the region. The appropriation of working-class jobs by the creative class creates a similarly forced relocation of lower-income residents. The appropriation of these jobs by elite workers is an even more violent form of gentrification than the movement of these traditionally elite businesses; the same tactics that are used by the creative-class to gain legitimacy for their businesses simultaneously delegitimizes the value of working-class crafts. The necessity of elite social capital for these positions forces lower-income communities to move into new residential areas, as well as into new positions in the labor industry.

In class last Wednesday, we discussed my first question centered around redevelopment/gentrification and whether it could bring about positive impacts. Hyra had mentioned in his book, for example, that a once infamous drug center had been revamped into a farmer’s market. Most people would agree that farmer’s markets are a better contribution to society than drugs, but there are obvious costs to redevelopment. For one, it is possible for people to profit off of previous conditions/stereotypes about an area like we saw with the “bullet-ridden” wall in the sandwich shop. Though the owner had no evidence behind her claims, she was able to profit off of the fact that her sandwich shop was in a ‘scary’ neighborhood/building that may have had a troubled past before it was remodeled into her sandwich shop. Is it bad that she is now making money selling (probably overpriced) sandwiches? Not necessarily. But the problem exists because she is selling a story about the neighborhood and the building that isn’t necessarily true. And even if it was possible to see her ‘bullet-ridden’ wall story as a simple mistake, her decision to sell 40oz bottles of Rosé in brown paper bags reveals that she didn’t have the purest motives/thoughts. She is appropriating culture and stereotypes for her own profit, and I think that is the issue that redevelopment often holds. It can serve to displace certain groups of people while allowing others to benefit from the culture of those who have been displaced. I doubt that the owner would create that story if she found a hole-ridden wall in the suburbs— she would simply have it replaced. 

For my second question, I wanted to know if it is possible for black residents to benefit from the perceptions of the “iconic ghetto” and of stereotypical black people that are marketed to others instead of continuing to be marginalized while white investors profit off of these perceptions. From the reading, it seemed as though it isn’t possible. I’m reminded of the story of the white woman who sought to preserve aspects of African-American culture by setting up tours of famous African-Americans’ homes. One of the tour-guides found, however, that white people who came to the tours were more interested in learning about the present value of the neighborhood because they wanted to move in. Although these tours had the potential to be lucrative for black people who worked for the organization/gave the tours, it became a point of frustration when the black tour guide realized she was giving tours to white people who could potentially displace her later. And I think that’s what’s often the case; black culture and history is profitable but black bodies themselves are marginalized and seen as lowering the value of a space. I think that is extremely ironic because so many people claim to want an “authentic experience” according to Hyra, but many of these same people have a strong aversion to the people whose culture is being sold. I think the only way for black people to benefit from perceptions of the iconic ghetto is for them to be the ones selling and advertising their own culture, but at that point it becomes a performance for money instead of an actual, authentic experience. An alternative is for black people to invest in their own culture and communities, but often times this requires capital that is not available, especially in lower-income communities.

In Ocejo’s book, Masters of Craft: Old Jobs in the New Urban Economy, he discusses the revolution of manual labor jobs by the creative class.  Usually coming from more privileged backgrounds, the creative class has strayed from their more stable careers to pursue more enriching cultural passions as first wave gentrifiers. As the manual labor industry has declined due to cheaper labor offshore and strides made in technology, jobs in barbering, manufacturing, bartending and more has been stigmatized.  However, the creative class has changed the negative connotation of these manual labor jobs by glamorizing them to be “cool” and “hipster.” Despite this, Ocejo still argues that “not all service jobs in the new economy are created equal” which leads to breakdown in the community (Ocejo 17).

In my expert question, I asked whether the creative class, drawn towards the idea of authenticity and closer interactions with community, was subsequently creating a divide among different socioeconomic classes.  Since the creative class is generally well off, typically having a college education, and therefore has the means to pursue a new career often with a fair amount of risk, their entrepreneurial endeavors can outshine the jobs that less affluent individuals are forced to take to support themselves. As gentrification raises property values and low-income minorities are forced out of communities, the creative class takes the place of original business by offering new “authentic experiences.”  Because these “authentic experiences” are more expensive and elite they are also less accessible. Lower classes may not be educated on these topics and certainly do not have the means to indulge in luxuries like “cocktail culture” when they can barely pay the rent. As the wealthy can only access these new trends, it creates a divide in the community.

While the creative class craves authenticity, their businesses are often far from truly “authentic.” For example, by using local products, their business appeals to a higher socioeconomic class but only because the culture they are presenting is more elite. Business owners claim that they discuss their products with clients but it never goes beyond just talk of business.  This is unlike traditional manual labor jobs where strong, personal ties are formed between business owners and clients, creating a sense of community. This raises the question we discussed in class, “who can claim the status of artisan and who can claim the status of worker?” It seems that what we think of as “artisan” is turning into the creative class. As a result, does one need to be their own entrepreneur to be an artisan and is a worker what was stereotypically low status?

The idea of cultural capital is also an important factor in this discussion of authenticity. We discussed that the creative class is performative and wishes to create an authentic experience. But this begs the question of who sees these new jobs as authentic? Are only those that are used to an elite and prosperous lifestyle looking to fulfill this cultural need?  Ocejo discusses that different classes have different cultural preferences because of their different backgrounds. As a result, it may only be the wealthy that see these new glamorized American businesses as “authentic” while less affluent groups are not interested because this new culture does not meet their needs.