Our theme for the month of March is “monsters.”

A stoop for busybodies, a suspiciously green backyard creek, a cicada-conquered driveway: all places I had made home growing up. And now I had the opportunity to select a new one.

When I recently started looking for a new place to live, I was excited for the chance to put into action everything I had learned about being a good, just neighbor. I thought about the history of redlining, segregation, and “improvements” that further marginalize communities I care about. But as I browsed online apartment listings (“charming bathroom fixtures!,” “gem of a location!”), I felt unpracticed at holding these equity considerations at the forefront of my mind. How should I weigh a space that met my desires against proximity to transportation against my potential contribution to the big G-word: gentrification?

Not being able to articulate an alternative model for deciding to rent an apartment bothered me. Yes, I frequently heard the word gentrification—defined in part by Brookings Institute as “the process by which higher income households displace significant numbers of lower income residents of a neighborhood.” But the more I reflected, the more I realized I didn’t know any more about gentrification than I did two years ago. The word holds heavy weight, but in many ways, those of us who have not experienced it speak of it as we do of monsters—as a larger-than-life, unnerving creature that stirs deep emotion. We might be able to conjure up crayon-drawn cartoon depictions of its worst manifestations, but that’s where we stop. As a result, we bemoan gentrification’s presence in the face of increasing income inequality and decreasing availability of affordable housing, but treat it as a somewhat inevitable phenomenon that we are defenseless to confront.

So as a personal accountability exercise, I tried to prepare myself to better enter housing decisions with outsized societal implications. I was encouraged to learn how many proposals and already implemented projects exchange displacement for community-led investment and agency. Here are three of my takeaways:

Learn where you are

Regardless of where we live at the moment, we can learn a neighborhood’s history and sit with residents’ hopes and fears about their agency in the future. I personally geek out about recorded tours that recount a city’s untold stories. We can ask what they have always wanted to see in their community and why that hasn’t come to pass before. As we learn, we acknowledge the uncomfortable truth that there aren’t binary answers to questions like “should I stay in an all-white community?” or “should I move into that ‘revitalizing’ (formerly marginalized) neighborhood?” Our history of the government generating wealth for some and poverty for others means that wherever we live right now, we are already playing into dynamics of access and opportunity. But that’s not a reason to sink into the illusion of neutrality. Instead, we can challenge ideas of how a community gains “value.” And we can ask, “For whom was this park or business district created?” “For whom was it not created?” An eye-opening moment for me was noticing how political candidates’ speeches often fail to include those experiencing homelessness in the list of people for whom they will fight and serve.  

Support existing communities

We can also join collective efforts that protect residents from displacement. Emergency funds widen the support network for people struggling to pay rent. Tenant unions issue rapid calls to action, organize advocacy to landlords, and provide legal resources for those facing eviction. Those of us with a good poker face can train to become fair housing testers who ensure people are not denied housing because of their identity. We can also support local groups that promote community member’s decision-making power. From health-based nonprofits to community arts centers to financial (non-predatory) institutions that invest in local businesses, these groups are sources of opportunity and resilience.

Engage with policies/practices that protect lower-income families’ agency and rights

All of the above individual actions are important testaments to the kind of world we want to live. But ultimately, policy will drive who gets a say in their future. The good news is that there is a host of creative ideas that shift the economic power dynamics in who can call a place home. In cities like Oakland, California, and Buffalo, New York, nonprofits are creating community land trusts to acquire properties, which they then lease out to residents at affordable prices. In Harlem, New York, renters banded together in a limited equity housing cooperative that gives renters opportunities to become homeowners. And across the country, rent control, zoning ordinances, and foreclosure assistance grants remind us that we have tools to combat the monstrous losses that housing crises bring to us all.

Comfort Sampong

Comfort Sampong’s heart is sparked by fried plantains, tropical foliage and the stories of women thriving and creating a way out of no way. She graduated in 2018 with majors in economics and international development. Now she lives in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, where she works on English communications for the Association for a More Just Society, a Honduran non-profit fighting for justice and peace.