11 Signs Your Hood Is Being Gentrified

A Washington, D.C., resident describes the changes and privilege that have moved into her longtime neighborhood.

Liquor store in Washington, D.C.
Liquor store in Washington, D.C. Janelle Harris

In Washington, D.C., as in many cities undergoing extreme urban makeovers, if you miss a week of moving about in certain neighborhoods, you’ll miss a whole heck of a lot. Sad times for you if you’re a landmark driver like I am, when even a short trip on familiar streets can induce a fog of confusion. Buildings go down and buildings go up on blocks so quickly, you can be a whole mile out of your way before you realize you’ve been waiting to hook a left at a corner store that is no more.

Besides creating in me a deep regret for not going to college to enjoy what seems like an inevitably profitable career in real estate development, gentrification has impressed me with its swiftness. I don’t pretend or profess to understand the complete politics of it—I’m certain that money is the bottom line and power is the impetus—but I know the bastions of urban-conquer waste no time claiming an area as “up and coming” and then following that up with epic levels of condo-and-coffeehouse building.

What that essentially means: The people already living there are fittin’ to be economically priced out and residentially pushed out. That I’ve learned. In the meantime, there’s a shift to accommodate the newcomers, rarely an effort by the newcomers to adjust to the existing dynamic of a community. The boundless, ceaseless imagination of privilege does it again and again.

Georgia Avenue, the stretch of street that hugs the campus of Howard University, used to be quintessential D.C., full of contagious energy and all-black everything: barbershops and beauty salons, mom-and-pop stores, insurance agencies, restaurants. But you know how it goes: Powers discover that an area is gold, see its potential, put it in their construction crosshairs and start plucking off anything, one by one, that doesn’t fit into the blueprint for their new, improved iteration.

Anyone resilient or fortunate enough to remain needs to adjust in order to survive. Such is the case of Fish in the ’Hood, a beloved institution for college students and local lovers of soulful dining that, in 2012, was christened with a new storefront sign indicative of the changing surroundings: Fish in the Neighborhood. A new name on a 15-year-old restaurant is telltale, but there are more indicators that change is gonna come:

1. Neighborhood boundary lines will be strategically reconfigured, and your new redistricted area will be outfitted with catchy, cutesy names.

2. Lighting will crop up. Y’all lived for years in near-apocalyptic darkness as existing street lights went long malfunctioning. Now the block is lit up like a night game at FedExField. Magical.

3. “Liquor stores” will be euphemistically renamed “wine and spirits shops.”

4. Cops will dutifully patrol your neighborhood in nonemergency situations. On foot, bike and vehicle patrols, sometimes even horses. No one has to call them. They’re already there.

5. You find out that the way you’ve been living is no longer “current.”