Space Invasion: An Ongoing Violation of Cultural Boundaries
In a moving world committed to societal advancement, the international community and the United States, have increasingly relied on integration: the collaboration of ideas, beliefs, cultures, and colors to build an inclusive world representative of those that live in it. And while the country that so boldly prides itself on being “the land of the free” and “the home of the brave” has undertaken great steps to stimulate multi-layered environments, from diversity and inclusion offices and positions to recent equality and human rights acts, there are still deep cultural divisions. These divisions force us to question whether these recent progressive efforts have shifted the mindset from “respecting boundaries” to breaking them, without consequence.
Amidst this oppression, or even because of it, slaves converted these exclusionary walls into a defined space, in which to strive for their own profits and explore their own supremacy.
Over the course of American history, institutions of power have placed barriers hindering the social, economic, and professional development in minority groups. More specifically, and more prominently, the white-black narrative has always produced tension, whether it be passive aggressive comments or an outright war. Slavery was the long-running emotional, social, mental, and physical torture of African Americans that enabled white executives to both profit economically and establish their social supremacy. The horrors of slavery, unjust labor, beatings and rape are constantly emphasized to exemplify the magnitude of such a relentlessly violent institutional practice. What is overlooked and arguably more lingering than physical exploitation is the divide it created. Slavery was a wall-builder, a border-definer, an institution that sealed the seemingly unbreakable infrangible line between master and slave, owner and property. Yet, amidst this oppression, or even because of it, slaves converted these exclusionary walls into a defined space, in which to strive for their own profits and explore their own supremacy.
Slavery was a producer. It produced the confounds in which black individuals could establish a cultural space characterized by rice-embedded cornrows, jazz-infused plantation chants, and most remarkably, the deep-rooted sense of brotherhood. Over time, these elements of the Black slave experience morphed into sentiments held strongly by the black community: colloquialisms, hair, mannerisms, values, were transformed by Black Americans, so that within the community, their designated space, they carried new weight and possessed completely different definitions. The shift was clear: if institutional walls were to be placed to limited black progression, blacks would use that space to cultivate their own success, freely express their thoughts and reclaim their identity.
If institutional walls were to be placed to limited black progression, blacks would use that space to cultivate their own success, freely express their thoughts and reclaim their identity.
The invasion of that space takes form in the evolution of black neighborhoods, transformed to fit the standards and preferences of an incoming middle-class group, a process commonly known as gentrification. Gentrification represents a force of economic and social change in community life, and due to its undeniable effect of cultural displacement, it has become an increasingly prevalent issue when discussing race in America. While it often occurs in big cities and aims to increase the value of properties in areas lacking economic stability, it naturally causes high rent prices, mortgage rates, and most notably, social displacement of ethnic minorities. As these rising costs diminish the supply of once affordable housing, there is an inevitable decrease in the purchasing power of blacks and Hispanics, who notably make up an alarmingly high percentage of low-income residents in America. Ironically, the amenities intended to boost community discourse end up dismantling the community in its entirety. As such, there is a movement: the same movement that forced Native Americans into reservations, the same movement that restricted Hispanics to Southern American states, the same movement that births these neighborhoods, these communal, cultural spaces yet simultaneously violates them. It is a cycle: the oppressors push and confine the oppressed, from one space to another, until there is no space left.
From an external perspective, the issue of gentrification is private and persisting in specific communities with specific people. But what this physical interference does is open the door for cultural violations. The use of the n-word, the wearing of braids/cornrows and even the articulation of black problems have been violated, and subsequently undertaken by those who forced their foot in the door and stopped it from closing. There is a blatant disregard for the purpose of that community: to take our distinct experiences, derived from our shared history, and even under discriminatory authority, make something amazing, something better.
Gentrification is a cycle: the oppressors push and confine the oppressed, from one space to another, until there is no space left.
The space is needed. As author Kelsey Blackwell noted: “When people of color are together, there can be healing. We can redefine ourselves and support one another in embracing who we are.” Not only does the space produce a unique yet shared culture that subverts oppressive power, but it allows to step back, to process and evaluate the world. Space gives us room to breathe. It enables us to take time from a structured society and decompress, to find power within ourselves, a power that is necessary in this fight for a collaborative, inclusive world.