Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
Robert T. O’Brien
Temple University, Philadelphia, USA
A
s a surging trend of underemployment in the US suggests, worker
‘redundancy’ is reaching crisis proportions. 1 Worse still, state re-
trenchment and gentrification are destroying workers’ means of social
reproduction in new and troubling ways. This article approaches unem-
ployment in light of a pattern of revanchist capitalism that destroys the social
safety net, deregulates and transforms industry, and — as I describe in the
case study below — is in the process of laying waste to the means of social
reproduction for un-, under-, and informally-employed (hereafter ‘marginal’)
workers.
Revanchism (from the French revanche, meaning ‘revenge’) is a term used
since the 1870s to describe the reclamation of property, capital, and territory
formerly held by an aggrieved (and usually capitalist or nationalist) party. At
their worst, revanchist political campaigns have used nationalist, ethnocentric,
classist, and racist ideologies to encourage property seizures, imprisonment,
state repression, and war. Neil Smith used the term to refer to the US state’s
‘all-out attack’ on New Deal social policy throughout the 1990s (1996: 44 – 46).
Following this line of reasoning, I argue that the violent trends in global and
deindustrialization was not the result of market excess, but rather inherent to
the postwar capitalist crisis. The ‘long downturn’ of the US postwar economy
is the result of competition between the major capitalist economies (Brenner
1998). The competition reduced profitability for entire economic sectors, as
uncompetitive firms drove profitability down.
Attempts in the US to manage the postwar crisis with Keynesian debt
expansion, monetarist intervention, and the manipulation of exchange rates
have had mixed results. The social welfare state drove an internal market as
it underwrote social mobility through the military’s GI Bill, and suburba-
nization through Federal Housing Authority (fha) fha 3 guaranteed mortgages
fha)
(Davis 1992; Patterson 1999; Brodkin Sacks 1994). However, it did so in a
manner that privileged groups who were differentially recruited to ‘white-
ness’ (Hartigan 1999; Smedley 1999). As Brenner demonstrates, this system
was ultimately unsustainable. Fordist production in the US, with high rates
of fi xed capital and high labor costs, could not withstand either competition
from abroad or the withdrawal of state commitments to social welfare Key-
nesianism under the Reagan, G.H.W. Bush, or Clinton administrations.
On the one hand, the failure of Fordism and subsequent labor-market
restructuring have meant a steady decline in full-time, permanent work with
opportunities for advancement, job security, and benefits. Two peripheral
groups have filled out the labor force: relatively low-skilled, easily replaced
full-time employees with decreased options for career advancement; and a
rapidly increasing group of contingent workers with even less job security
(Harvey 1989). Organized subcontracting has led to an increase in older
systems of domestic, paternalistic, sweatshop, and informal production.
On the other hand, the capitalist crisis of the long downturn has exacer-
bated another pattern of exploitation of the poor and working class. Uneven
geographic development provides a framework for understanding this process
and the local particularities of class struggle as they have played out in Ken-
sington. What it provides is a ‘spatial fix,’ where capital uses the advantage
inherent in investing in un- or underdeveloped areas to seek higher profits
(and a temporary respite from crisis) (Harvey 1999, 2003; Smith 1982, 1984).
Rather than utilizing a level playing field, capitalism develops in geographic,
social, and historical contexts that begin fundamentally uneven.
At the heart of the processes I describe is a zero-sum conflict over the
use and exchange values of urban space, between marginal workers trying
to make ends meet in a deindustrialized community and capitalists seeking
increased profits. People who are not speculators most often think of land
in terms of use values, and household economies also depend on use values.
‘People . . . create supportive, place-based networks with neighbors, small
business owners, schools, and other institutions that both provide material
sustenance and engender emotional and sentimental attachments to a parti-
cular place’ (Pérez 2002: 39). The places and social ties within which people’s
daily lives occur ‘have a certain preciousness for their users that is not part of
the conventional concept of a commodity’ (Logan & Molotch cited in Pérez
2002:39, emphasis in original).
But, as Logan and Molotch describe, space also has a potential commodity
use and exchange value: entrepreneurs and speculators gain monopoly access
to land and find profit by exchanging that land for a price higher than that
which they paid (1987). Urban fortunes are made through the realization of
exchange values, and the development of a ‘growth machine’ ideology over
and above any notion of appreciating space for its use value and the public
good.4 As land values and parcel sizes increase, smaller ‘serendipitous en-
trepreneurs’ tend to drop out, leaving land speculation to wealthy capitalists
and capitalist firms. The pursuit of greater exchange values leads speculators
and other capitalists to work in their common class interest, using the growth
machine to ‘coordinate the needs of corporate elites with the behavior of
local government and citizens’ groups’ (Ibid:Ibid: 34).
Ibid
In East Kensington, as I will illustrate, the good fortune of those who have
survived marginal employment is to be found in a pattern of social repro-
duction based in use value. Anthropological research on social reproduction
and social networks has demonstrated the importance of social networks
and ‘transformative work’ in creating community despite racism, sexism,
and class oppression (Mullings 1997; Stack 1996). Anthropologists have also
interrogated the structural reproduction of inequality related to the disruption
of social networks (Colen 1995; Pérez 2002).
However, the different potentials found in the ‘conditions and levels of
development’ of different geographic areas create advantages exploited by
capitalists (Smith 1982). In the urban environment, fixed capital is sunk into
the built environment in successive waves, and then valorized and devalorized
in waves of land speculation and disinvestment. In the postwar period, these
differentials in ground rent have set the stage for several waves of uneven
development.
Philadelphia has provided sites for uneven development over the course
of the past three centuries. Two recent episodes provide the backdrop for
neighborhood imperialism in Kensington. First, federal ‘urban renewal’ pro-
and ethnic conflict contributed to the decline of the housing and economic
infrastructure in the community since deindustrialization (Goode & Schneider
1994). Schools and public services declined as local political and economic
power decreased. Finally, as relatives and friends left the neighborhood in
search of opportunities elsewhere, both social networks and abandoned
buildings crumbled.
In the neoliberal era, social services that might alleviate the social effects
of these changes have seen dramatic cutbacks. Nationally, federal funding
for welfare-transfer payments, meal programs, public housing, healthcare,
and education have slowed to a trickle or dried up. Locally, cbos that once
provided services ranging from English as a Foreign Language (efl) and
welfare counseling to support for micro-credit programs and sweat equity
housing8 have collapsed, as they have lost funding to agencies that cater to
the city’s neoliberal development model (Goode & O’Brien 2006). Two local
hospitals have closed. Moreover, these changes have occurred in a racially
segregated neighborhood that has recently experienced a significant influx
of new immigrants (US Census Bureau 1990, 2000). No new social supports
have accompanied these immigrants.
Community Development Corporations (cdcs), created in the 1960s and
1970s with federal Community Development Block Grant monies during the
War on Poverty, are now clearing vacant, trash-strewn lots for future real
estate, retail, and light industrial investment. Middle-class homebuyers seek-
ing investment properties and ‘starter’ homes, and larger investors hoping for
tax incentives and leveraged public funds, have joined the boards of cdcs and
Neighborhood Advisory Councils (nacs) and have begun to reimagine part
of the area ‘JuNoGi’ (‘Just North of Girard’). To attract investment, new cdcs
pursue targeted housing and economic development that involves building
only owner-occupied housing, and promoting façade improvements for local
businesses. Finally, the cdcs encourage home improvements and the acqui-
sition of large-scale investment lots and side yards through a streamlined
acquisition process and low-interest loans. The success of their efforts has led
Philadelphia’s Mayor John Street to pursue this model citywide in the form
of his $265 million ‘Neighborhood Transformation Initiative’ (nti).
According to Philadelphia’s former director of housing, ‘[n]early everyone
likes cdcs, because, at their best, these organizations represent the principle
of neighborhood self-help in a very tangible way’ (Kromer 2001). In truth,
the cdcs have helped those established residents with sufficient economic
capital to become upwardly mobile. By the same token, they also still provide
check cashing fees, and high interest, short-term home equity loans. 11 Unlike
cbos in the War on Poverty era, which fought for micro-credit programs and
against predatory lending, the cdcs have only responded by providing budget
counseling, for those residents whose incomes are low enough to qualify.
Examining residents’ discussions of employment, community membership,
and community development, I use the concept of neighborhood imperialism
in the remainder of this article to explain the manner in which newcomer
gentrifying residents cite established residents’ ideas about social reproduction
as ideological justification for their disposability.
In what follows, I first describe the subsistence strategies among estab-
lished marginally-employed residents to illustrate how their pattern of social
reproduction has allowed them to survive deindustrialization and under-
development. I then provide a pair of vignettes that expose conflicts across the
uneven divide between gentrifying newcomer and marginalized established
resident. In the final ethnographic section I describe the ways that gentrifying
residents interpret these conflicts to craft established residents as disposable
workers and the consequences of this for both sets of residents.
else can I do? Live with my kids in the suburbs? And do what? Wait for them
to give me a ride somewhere once in a while?’
Nick Budschalow is a block captain who has worked with a cdc to clean
up his street. He and his wife have removed abandoned cars, tires, trash,
and glass from several lots around their home. One lot now serves as a com-
munal yard for three abutting properties. The work invested in clearing this
lot has paid off in the form of reciprocal relationships with their neighbors
that include shared childcare, shared investment in a swimming pool, and
decreased food costs from shared meals throughout the year.
Nick works as a mechanic both on and off the books — doing some work
in the yard next to his house. His wife Sam tends bar at a downtown eatery,
earning most of her pay in unreported tips. The transformative work (Mul-
lings 1997; Stack 1996) they do on their block, the indirect benefits of the
social ties involved, and their informal sector jobs are all means of surviving
underemployment.
One afternoon, sitting in the yard with Nick and Sam and watching the
families from the two abutting properties play, I listened while Nick de-
scribed his vision for the neighborhood. ‘That [factory] up the corner came
in saying they were gonna hire people from the neighborhood. There’s not
one person from the neighborhood working there. Seems to me this [area]
is residential. There’s not enough places for kids to go as it is, we don’t need
any more businesses.’
Ironically, in a neighborhood devastated by deindustrialization — where
nearly two generations have gone without living wage employment and
where many blame their ‘quality of life’ problems on a lack of jobs — most
marginally employed residents share this assessment. They do not want to
see ‘development,’ in the sense of land speculation.
These established residents are envisioning a community of use value
— of course they want jobs and equity in their homes, but not at the expense
of the social networks that have allowed for their social reproduction. The
‘preciousness’ of the houses they have held on to, and of the lower density
of lots cleared of abandoned buildings and trash, are preferable to a factory
that would bring increased traffi c and the industrial pollution that older
residents remember all too well. And like the factory Nick mentions, few
new businesses (most of which receive direct state support from tax breaks
or indirect support via state-funded cdcs) hire local residents.
Despite the deprivations of dispossession from living-wage employment,
some established residents have used their social networks to expand on
their (useful) homes. Anne Baker and her husband Gerry have been living on
his disability pay and her nursing salary. Two of their three grown children
still live at home and contribute to the family income. They also help with
childcare and work in and around the house.
Anne has been block captain for twenty years and has gotten several vacant
lots nearby cleared of trash and drug sales. Like many of their neighbors,
the Bakers have invested effort and have mobilized their social networks to
create a home where their means of social reproduction is guaranteed.
I’ve got a pool and fruit trees . . . [My family and I] put a lot of back-breaking work
in the yard. And not with heavy machinery — We’re talking shovels and stuff.
Gerry doesn’t intend to leave, preferring to stay and fight for his commu-
nity.
[O]n the next block are drug dealers, but I’m not moving. I’ve got everything I
want. It took me 15 years to fix the lot next door up. [The neighborhood will] come
back up again. There are families moving in and buying houses. They’ll get the
neighborhood running. Eventually you’re going to have to accept it. The world’s
changing and you’ve got to live with it, instead of pulling this white flight stuff.
The new families Gerry imagines would be ‘working people like [himself ]
who happen to be Spanish [Puerto Rican] or black.’
Unfortunately for the McGoverns, the Budschalows, and the Bakers, it is
precisely the families who are moving in who will test their means of social
reproduction and the use value inherent in their community. And these
newcomers are not exactly ‘working people,’ like Gerry. They bring capital,
development goals, and social ties that are antithetical to the community
that established residents have come to count on.
Barbara
Barbara is a white woman in her mid-50s. She came to Philadelphia to
attend college in 1969. She and her partner both attended law school after
moving to Kensington in the 1980s. The couple were living in Northern Lib-
erties in the mid-80s when the ‘prices went out the wazzoo.’ They looked at
the surrounding neighborhoods and found that they could afford Kensington
even though they ‘had no money.’
A recently elected judge whose partner is a law clerk, Barbara served as
board president of the local nac, a sort of lobbying group for the community
and a necessary prerequisite for forming a cdc and, thereby, getting access
to a pool of public money.
She is excited about people moving across the symbolic boundary of Girard
Avenue, which has until recently been gentrification’s northernmost frontier.
In characterizing these newcomers, she ignores mention of their orientation
toward exchange value. Instead, she presents them as ‘pilgrims’ — people with
values and social ties that connect to the powers that be, on the other side of
the geographic divide. Moreover, these ties bring with them additional social
and political networks important to earlier pilgrims13 like Barbara.
We’re getting people who are comfortable trying on a new neighborhood that is
still close to what they value. And for them the value’s gonna be in the proximity
to . . . all that Center City offers. [O]ur neighborhood is currently being really well
served by our state representative [and] our city council representative. [W]e need
the financial backing of our elected [officials]. [O]ur state representative got us
a $100,000 grant for housing, the first one we’ve had in a long, long time. We’re
gonna use that to build more houses.
When I ask why her neighborhood was able to get this kind of funding when
other nearby communities were not, Barbara points to the social relationships
that new residents and their advocates possess.
To the extent that [nac executive director] John Dougherty can converse well
— and competently — with our state representative and with our city council rep
and that they can look at him and see him as a white man who has an interest in
this neighborhood, we’re well served — because they are white people . . . And . . . I
know that our numbers keep going up at the polls. We keep getting more and more
voters registered in our neighborhood. And politicians look at that.
What Barbara does not acknowledge — if she sees it — is that politicians and
speculators are mutually looking toward pilgrims like her, to raise the ground
rents.
Like most residents who value the proximity to ‘all that Center City of-
fers,’ Barbara spends a majority of her time outside of the neighborhood. ‘In
the community,’ Barbara says, ‘I am probably closest to three, maybe five
households out of the total . . . They’re people who’ve lived there for at least
two generations . . . [and who] I know through my limited relationship with
St. Michael’s Church.’ In one of the long conversations Barbara characterized
as a ‘confessional,’ she struggled with including ‘nuisance’ neighbors in her
notion of community.
[S]hortly after we moved into the neighborhood, I became very friendly with
a woman . . . A couple of years after I met her, she asked me to drive with her
I’ve since learned that he was primarily responsible for a huge binge on break-ins.
Had he not died down there, there’s a good chance that he would’ve been living
[nearby]. I don’t know how it is that the word ‘community’ gets stretched enough
to encompass the people who make it hard to live [here], by their habits.
Mary
Mary is also white and in her mid-50s. She lives with her daughter Ma-
ryanne, who works as a court stenographer, and Maryanne’s fiancé Bob, a
union carpenter. Mary has trouble with the fact that her daughter takes care
of the bills. There’s been tension throughout Maryanne’s life about Mary’s
varying ability to provide for them and, now, for herself.
According to Mary, drug use is a ‘coping mechanism’ that takes up a lot of
her time. This coping mechanism — over a quarter century of heroin injection,
methadone treatment, crack use — has left its marks. It is so consuming that
it leaves little time to focus on the problems Mary acknowledges she ‘should
be straightening out.’
The problems stem from a ten-year-old bench warrant. Fearing imprison-
ment, believing that a court appearance might ‘dredge up old beefs’ from her
years of sexwork and drug sales, Mary has yet to resolve this summons. With
the summons hanging over her head, however, she cannot seek the Social
Security disability insurance to which she’s entitled — which would provide
an income and health coverage.
I asked Mary if she could explain why she continued to get high, why she
couldn’t clear up her ‘legal problems,’ and why she rarely worked ‘straight’
(formal sector) jobs anymore. She told me about a school for the deaf that
she had worked at in the early 1980s. She was on methadone at the time and
living at the school. A housekeeper found Mary’s medication and reported
it to her employers. Although they did not fire her, stories of Mary’s metha-
done use were circulating and affecting her relationship with children at the
school. Mary left.
At another job, two police officers who had once arrested her for dealing,
came in to pay their bills. According to Mary, ‘the cops put doubt in the
owner’s mind, so he counted the drawers more closely. I got aggravated
with it and quit.’
Finally, Mary decided to apply for a program that would pay for her to
enroll in college. Worried about a possible return to drug use, Mary made
certain that she could remain in the methadone program and still qualify for
the education grant. After getting assurances from a counselor at the funding
agency, Mary completed the paperwork for state funding. After she had been
admitted to community college she was told by her methadone counselor
that she would have to detoxify from methadone before the state would pay
for school. That was Mary’s last attempt to work ‘straight’ jobs.
Mary says the problem of current community development efforts is
that they ‘blame the victim and nothin’ changes. Focusing on the addicts is
a . . . way of blaming the people and the drug when the government or com-
munity organizing ain’t working.’
Although providing adequate access to drug treatment might allow people
like Mary some chance of getting clean if they chose, Mary doesn’t believe
this would work without other supports. When substance users have access
to meaningful work and social welfare they have no need for ‘a hustle’ like
sexwork, theft, drug sales, or other informal sector employment to meet
their needs.
Barbara, in a telling discussion of the differences between being an addict
with and without material resources, seems to agree.
Every community [has] people who are disabled by addiction. The extent to which
they impact the neighborhood has everything to do with their income. The wife
of the attorney that I used to work with was addicted to coke. I don’t think she
had a negative impact on her neighborhood ’til she cracked up her car one day.
She was invisible because her addiction didn’t involve the loss of somebody’s
property or an assault.
Everyone in the neighborhood drinks too much. It’s why people look so much
older than they are. The drug problem is intractable because it’s part of the history
of the neighborhood. People selling drugs were doing something else harmful
before they sold drugs.
If you don’t want to work at conventional [jobs], if you like to live on the edge, if
you get a rush over that sort of thing . . . , then all that has a certain appeal to you.
Somebody who has dropped out of high school and can’t, or isn’t particularly
interested in reading and doesn’t know how to do math, and computers are just
something that they steal, I don’t know the compelling argument for a lot of those
people not to do this kind of stuff. I’m not sure that economic development models
have anything to do with that culture.
But, as the socioeconomic situation shifts, that’ll change. Middle-class people are
demanding. It’ll just happen . . . The market will fix these things in a way that the
agency [cdc] never could. The agency would have to go out of its way for the un-
derdog, but the underdog people are hardly up to owning their own property.
Siobhan O’Connell and her husband may portend the changes that the market
will bring. Newer residents who moved to Fishtown from Center City fifteen
years earlier, gentry couples like the O’Connells see their physical home as
enclosed, not as part of the sociality of the community, and in a location
convenient to work, recreation and leisure. Like generations of established
residents who had at one time been able to do so on the basis of the social
wage of Keynesian social welfare, O’Connell and her husband bought a small
home at the shore. ‘We have a little getaway on the weekends.’ Unlike residents
of summers past — or even those Kensington residents who can still afford to
socialize together in the low-rent shore town of Wildwood, the O’Connell’s
can now orient their social lives away from local space and sociality.14
suggested to me, the capitalist class uses one part of the working class — the
so-called ‘middle class’ — to manage the other part. Prince makes a similar
point in her discussion of ‘professional managerial workers’ — ‘[a]ccumulation
would be severely hampered without the labor of individuals trained to
oversee the care, management and socialization of the ranks of productive
labor and other workers’ (2002: 9). Likewise, Logan and Molotch argue that
rentiers are tolerated by capital – even when they negatively affect profits
– because of the stabilizing role they play in growth machines.
Not all East Kensington residents have submitted to the logic of the market
and its goals. Many see opportunities to organize that the city and cdcs do
not credit them with. Unlike the organizations and individuals who prioritize
the exchange value of the community, local residents on both sides of the
uneven divide prioritize the use value of space, and would prefer existing
homes (and the social relations that have developed among the people living
in them), recreational spaces (and the social relations they foster) and in-
creased social services (and the economic and human capital they provide)
to new construction, land speculation, and spaces of consumption.
Future developments are, of course, uncertain. Many people will likely
take the opening speculation provides them to get out — many who have sur-
vived on use values may choose exchange values where possible. Ultimately,
for those marginal residents who do stay, the influx of financial capital will
put greater economic and social pressures, that will likely make continued
dependence on use value and marginal work untenable.
Yet, most established residents will have no options but to stay. Those
who have not made improvements on their homes and lots will not receive a
price equal to the social equity of their property. Few want to leave the social
ties that they have in the community. In response to the label ‘the Badlands’
that the neighborhood has acquired in the local and national media, one
respondent stated, ‘I don’t care. Whatever they call it, its home.’ Whether
marginal workers will be able to hold onto this home, or newcomer residents
will be able to embrace it (and the vision of a public good that it contains),
remains to be seen.
Acknowledgments
This work would have been impossible without the patience and generosity of
those who welcomed me into their lives over the past decade. The fieldwork for this
research was made possible by two National Science Foundation grants, a Temple
University Fellowship supported by Temple’s Graduate School and Department of
Anthropology, and a Fels Foundation Summer Internship grant. The arguments
made here have been immeasurably improved by Angela Jancius’ kind, generous,
and patient editing and by comments on earlier drafts by Christopher Carrico, Paul
Durrenberger, Genevieve Fulco, Judith Goode, Anastasia Hudgins, and Neil Smith.
Discussions with Brett Williams, Sydney White, Kathy Walker, Jeff Maskovsky, Su-
san Hyatt, and the students and faculty of the Urban Studies Program at the Uni-
versity of Washington, Tacoma have helped me flesh out what were but thoughts
of thoughts. The mistakes are all mine, but the camaraderie of these friends makes
them bearable.
Notes
1. The United States Bureau of Labor Statistics (bls) uses a range of measures char-
acterizing employment. However, bls measures are typically cited selectively in
the press. The bls measure most often cited (the ‘u-3’ category) represents those
unemployed but actively seeking work and finding none during the period mea-
sured. US u-3 unemployment ranged from 4– 6 percent from August 1994 – June
2005 (with a brief spike above 6 percent in 2003). Philadelphia’s u-3 for the period
has ranged from 3.4– 6.3 percent. However, the bls’ alternative measures account
for a much larger proportion of people who would be considered un- or under-
employed. A more comprehensive measure, including those in the u-3 measure,
those who have found but chosen not to take work, and those who are categorized
as ‘discouraged’ puts unemployment at over 6.4 percent. Including those who are
employed but seeking additional work for financial reasons, pushes national under-
employment above 7.6 percent. Finally, including people who hold multiple jobs for
financial reasons, the US underemployed rate is nearly 13 percent. Race, gender,
and access to higher education drive these numbers higher.
2. Unlike many of the gentrifying neighborhoods that social scientists have studied,
over 90 percent of the neighborhood’s residents are US born and of European
descent. Due to space constrictions, I will have to develop the specific ‘class pre-
dicaments of whiteness’ (Hartigan 1999) and effects of other racialized aspect of
neighborhood imperialism elsewhere.
3. The GI Bill provided benefits to returning soldiers after the Second World War.
The fha created the now widespread system of low interest, long-term fixed rate
mortgages.
4. Amin presents an argument against conflating the expansion of capitalism with
development. Capitalism ‘must be considered on two levels, that of its imminent
(abstract) tendency and that of its historical (concrete) reality. The concept of dev-
elopment, on the other hand, is by nature ideological. It enables one to judge results
according to criteria that have been drawn up a priori — the same criteria that
contribute to the definition of a social project.’ (1997 :14).
5. Pérez 2002; Prince 2002; Smith 1996; Williams 1988, 2002.
6. On the deserving/undeserving dichotomy, see Katz 1995; Goode & Maskovsky
2001; Maskovsky 2001.
7. ‘Redlining’ refers to the lines banks and insurers would draw around neighborhoods
considered bad, marginal, or good risks. The process was initiated by the US Fede-
ral Housing Authority (fha)fha) in 1934. The fha denied guarantees to mortgages in
fha
predominantly black, Latino, or poor neighborhoods.
8. These programs allow residents to earn credit towards owning a home in exchange
for work done rehabbing abandoned properties.
9. Survey respondents also included in their top ten priorities the creation of increased
educational opportunities for both children and adults, safe spaces for children and
teens, health clinics, and housing for the elderly.
10. Workers are paid a small amount in cash or drugs before a shift and given time to
purchase and or use their drugs. After working a 12–16 hour day, workers are paid
again — usually 1 1⁄2 times what they received when the shift began.
11. See Williams 2004 for a discussion of the role of debt in creating and maintaining
inequality in the US.
12. In fact, as DiLeonardo 1998; Goode & Maskovsky 2001; and Prince 2002 demon-
strate (and problematize), a narrative of uplift through proximity to the ‘middle
class’ prevails.
13. Although they use the word ‘pioneers,’ Smith 1996 and di Leonardo 1998 discuss
similar dynamics.
14. Williams (1988) makes a similar argument about how gentrifiers orient their lives
externally and range far and while older residents orient their lives within the neigh-
borhood and stay close.
15. I would like to acknowledge Susan B. Hyatt for this insight.
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