Tips for Knowing Whether that Blue Crab is from Maryland and Virginia

It's official.  Virginia Governor Terry McAuliffe thinks Maryland's blue crabs should be called Virginia crabs.      

Yup, that's right, Virginia Governor Terry McAuliffe is not only making a play for Washington's football team (which plays in Largo, Maryland); he's now claiming bragging rights to the delicacy on which we Marylanders put our old bay.

How dare he?

Ok, he's Terry McAuliffe.  That's a dumb question.

A better question is how the purist Marylander can you tell if his or her blue crab is from Virginian?

Based on my misspent youth in Virginia, I've put together a handy dandy list of sure-fire signs your crab is from the Old Dominion.

A Virginia crab would...

1. Like grits and think you're a communist for putting anything besides salt and butter on them.
2. Expect the ice tea to be sweet
3. Confuse paprika for Old Bay
4. Re-enact the War Between the Crabs on the weekends.
5. Drive like a maniac and blame it on Maryland and DC residents
6. Brag about low taxes while complaining about the horrible condition of state roads
7. Love Jesus and liquor
8. Make you feel guilty for not loving Jesus enough
9. Say 'bless your heart' instead of 'F*&K you! 
10. Cast votes that confuse the heck out of the rest of the country

But never fear, Maryland and Virginia crabs will always set aside their differences to hate on West Virginia Catfish.      

Let's Talk about Gentrification and Race

In the last month the Washington Post has published 3 stories about race and gentrification.

The first detailed a man who put up anti-gentrification signs in his Brightwood yard.  When a Washington Post reporter asked him why he put the sings up he explained, "I don’t want people to come in and diminish the affordable housing stock for black Americans, because [black Americans] have nowhere else to go,   There are plenty of places for white Americans to go.”

The second detailed the changing demographics of DC's Chinatownn neighborhood.  Basically, Chinatown isn't very Chinese anymore.  Only 300 Chinese people live in the neighborhood, down from 3,000.  And, the last building still housing a significant number of Chinese people--many of them low income tenants--is up for sale.   

The third was a column in yesterday's paper by metro columnist Courtland Milloy.  Milloy observed that there is something vital missing from the revitalization of 14th Street--black people.

Although I usually avoid the comments sections on anything posted on the internet, the comments in these articles tell us a lot about how ordinary citizens view gentrification.

Some people don't want to acknowledge that gentrification involves racial change at all.  It's all about the money, they say.

Others think black folks are being whiny.  One commentator dismissed Milloy's article by saying "It [14th Street] was a complete sewer" before the millennials arrived.  Others think black folks are being racist--"Racism on public display" said one commenter on the Brightwood article.  

Still others look for the bright side.  Sure, black folks often end up leaving gentrifying areas, but they profit handsomely when they sell their houses for millions of dollars.  

Then, there are the people who come at it from left field.  A reader of the Chinatown article applauded the declining Chinese population as a sign of diversity--"We are seeing here the realization of President Obama's dream to integrate neighborhoods. Washington is becoming more diverse.  We should all celebrate that."

What should we make of all of this?  Or, put another way, what are the unspoken rules that govern how we can talk about gentrification?  From the comments sections of these three articles I see 3 informal rules in play:  First, most people acknowledge gentrification involves racial change (in DC that means a growing white population and a declining black one).  Second, black people shouldn't talk about it.  Third, if they do talk about it, they'll be sanctioned politely (e.g. by being reminded that they sold their houses for a profit) or impolitely (e.g. by being reminded what a mess their old neighborhood was before the white millennials arrived). In short, we can talk about gentrification, but we can't talk about gentrification and race. 

I think this is silly and unfair.  

People form attachments to place.  Black people do this.  White people do this.  So do Asians and Hispanics.  We all do it.  

My mom still lives in the house I grew up in.  There's been a lot of turnover in her neighborhood, but I still look at every house and remember the kid who lived in it when I was young.  Three houses down is "Benny's house."  Across the street from Benny is "Lawrence's house."  It doesn't matter that Benny and Lawrence moved out of the neighborhood before I graduated high school.  That's how I see those houses. 

The couple who owned the house my husband and I bought in Silver Spring once had the previous owner stop by for a visit.  The woman wanted to see what her old house looked like inside.  She'd loved the house and wanted to make sure it was still being taken care of.  

People fall in love with places--rooms, houses, streets, entire neighborhoods.  They become a map of our heart.  The place you had your first kiss, or the place you started a family.  So, we shouldn't be surprised that black people who grew up in, or lived in neighborhoods that used to be predominantly black feel vertigo, sadness, and even anger that their neighborhood isn't the same anymore.  

We also shouldn't be surprised that newcomers aren't always welcome.  The racial shifts that occur with gentrification don't happen in a void.  Gentrification isn't a random, value-neutral resorting of the population.  Historically, black people concentrated in cities (or certain neighborhoods in them) because they had little choice.  Redlining, landlord bias, and limited resources meant their housing choices were circumscribed.  These neighborhoods might not have been the places their residents would choose in a perfect world, but that's where they ended up. And, overtime, they made those places their own.  So, when the newcomers arrive, the 'old-timers' often feel like they're back to square one.  The place they made their own is suddenly no longer theirs.  They can't afford the higher rent their landlord wants to charge.  Or, they can't cover the new, higher property taxes.  Or, they can afford to stay but now feel out of place.     

Instead of ignoring, scolding, or deriding people unhappy with gentrification, we should have some empathy.  We've all felt a connection to a place.  Gentrification often rips that apart.  I know empathy alone won't solve the problems that accompany gentrification, but it's not a bad place to start.  Based on the comments sections of these three articles, it is in short supply.

Random MOCO Pic of the Day--Enfant Terrible

For the MOCO workers whose job it is to paint over graffiti, it probably feels a lot like weeding a garden this time of year.  No matter how many weeds you pull up, they always come back, sometimes overnight.  I'll give it to our county workers, though--they don't let fresh graffiti stay up long in our neighborhood.  

That said, I was happy to see this enfant terrible shining through county's paint yesterday.  Graffiti is frequently ugly and unimaginative, but sometimes it makes you laugh.  I hope this terrible infant's parent will be back. 

Enfant terrible, 495 underpass, Sligo Creek Trail at Forest Glenn

Winning Badly--DC and The DC United Stadium Deal

When you win, there's no need to rub the loser's face in it.  You won after all.

Apparently, the District Government  never learned that lesson.  Instead, they pulled a proverbial Christian Laettner.  Scoring the win, and still stomping the competition in the face.

The back story:  DC United has been trying to get a new stadium built in DC for a long time.  In 2007 it came close to a deal with former Mayor Adrian Fenty only to see it fall apart.  Seven years later the team was back at the negotiating table with Mayor Vincent Gray, and in the waning days of his administration, the team struck a deal with the city.  Unfortunately, Gray's successor (Muriel Bowser) was slow to put it in motion.  Although Bowser supported the deal, six months into her mayorship she still hadn't acquired a contested parcel of land necessary for construction to begin.     

After little progress with Bowser's administration, it's no wonder DC United started to question the sincerity of the District's support for the stadium.  The new mayor's promises weren't matched by actions.

So, in swoops Virginia governor Terry McAuliffe.  Ever the salesman, he pitched a location in Loudon County for the team.  Then, word of the meetings between team officials and Virginia officials leaked to the press.

So, how did the District react?  In front of the cameras and in interviews with the press they were blase.  Behind the scene, someone clearly lit a fire under Bowser's well-tailored pant-suit. 

A few days later, on June 9th, the District held a news conference to announce it had 'sealed' the deal.  Leaving aside the obvious question--wasn't the deal already 'sealed'?--how did the city comport itself during the announcement?

With unwarranted (and slightly wacky) braggadocio.  

According to Phil Mendelson, the chairman of the city council, the deal was a win because the proposed site in DC didn't look like a cornfield.  Fortunately, council member Jack Evans clarified for people wondering what corn had to do with soccer by pointing to the DC blueprints on a nearby easel--"it certainly doesn't look like Loudoun County."

Not sure when Loudoun County started growing corn--isn't that where all the rich people and their horses live?--or when it became a mild invective. 

Full disclosure--I would also prefer the new stadium be in DC rather than Loudoun.  However...the proper reaction from the city was contrition not chest-pounding.  DC United fans have been waiting a long time for their stadium--a lot longer than the city's baseball fans waited for theirs.  And, the deal still isn't done.  Bowser promised to have the land parcel secured by September, and I hope she manages it.  But, it ain't time to stick a fork in it just yet. 

Vamos United wherever you land! 
 

Scandal, Chevy Chase, MD Edition

No two scandals are alike.

Each scandal tells you something about the place it happens.  Take Chevy Chase, MD.  A write in candidate for a town council seat won against an incumbent, who was running unopposed.  No one, least of all the incumbent's supporters, saw it coming.  Now, the town is traumatized.

I know.  Pick your jaw up from the floor.  It's as bad as election night at Fox News in 2012.  So, what are the issues behind said trauma?   

1. In Chevy Chase it is hard to get a permit to cut a tree cut down.  You have to fill out a lot of paperwork and explain yourself.  And, then, you'll probably still get turned down.  

 (These people clearly DON'T know you're lawyer!) 

2.   If you cut down a tree without a permit, you can spend six months in jail. 

(Do you suppose Chevy Chase has its own stocks and whipping post?)

3.  The campaign for the write in candidate used social media to organize.  As one resident explained to the Washington Post "It wasn't a fair fight.  There were some people in the know through social media, and that’s a modern phenomenon."  

(Translation:  Don't this town's upstarts know the 21st century hasn't arrived yet in Chevy Chase?) 

 
4.  One resident can't eat on his deck.  The town's regulations for new building are so stringent he couldn't build the deck large enough to fit a table.  

(Can malnutrition be far behind?)

 


When you're done giving to the victims of Nepal, you might want to consider setting aside a little for those poor traumatized souls in Chevy Chase, MD. 

Stereotyping the Suburbs

White and wealthy.  Car-dependent.  Monotonous uniformity.  A Stepford Wife lurking behind every door.   

That's the suburbs for you.


Unless you look at the data.  In many parts of the the DMV, these stereotypes simply don't apply.   Bethesda and Silver Spring--both in Montgomery County--are more public transit oriented than many parts of neighboring DC.  Montgomery County is also just as ethnically diverse as, if not more so than DC.  While whites and African Americans are the two dominant ethnic groups in both counties, Asians and Latinos account for a much larger share of MOCO's total population (14.9 and 18.3% respectively) than they do in DC (3.9 and 10% respectively).

Strangely, the stereotypes persist.  And, as usual, it seems to boil down to our collective obsession and hysteria about Millennials.

A May 8th blog post on the Washington Post's Digger blog is a case in point.  The post (The Real Challenge for Cities: What Happens When Millennials Have Babies and the Suburbs Beckon?) covered a panel held at the Urban Land Institute.  I didn't attend the panel, but if the blog review is any indication, the goal of the panel wasn't to answer the question 'will they stay or will they go?' so much as brainstorm how to get them to stay.  

I get it.  Everyone wants a piece of the millennial pie.  They are a large demongraphic with a lot of money to spend.  Right now they spend most of it (at least in DC) on overpriced rents and craft beer.  But, they are about to spend a lot more money.  That's right, millennials are now beginning to do 'adult' things like buy houses and have kids, which entails a whole new category of purchasing (beware the plastic crap you accumulate and trip over at night, inadvertently teaching your kids their first curse words).   

I'm also sympathetic to wanting to keep/attract more families in the city--millennial or otherwise.  One of the biggest unintended consequences of city leaders' millennial fetish is that cities are becoming uniform in their own way, as places rebuilt for wealthy people without kids.  The micro-unit trend is just the most obviouis example. 

But..and there's always a but isn't there?...I resent the smug undertone that often underpins the whole millennial fetish.  The effort to keep them in the city when they're ready to have kids, for example, is often legitimized as a movement to save said offspring from the presumed horrors of the suburbs.

One of the panelist at the Urban Land Institute, Sarah Snider Komppa, described her life growing up in the suburbs as "unfulfilling."  "You’re shuttled from one place where everyone is the same as you to another place where everyone is the same as you.”

I have no doubt Komppa's description captured her actual experiences.  My suburban childhood wasn't all that different, except for the quirky southerners that populated it (bless their hearts, every last one).  However, the suburb I grew up in is not what it used to be.  Nor, I suspect, is Komppa's.

And, that's the problem.  The suburbs are a convenient bogeyman for urban boosters.  The suburbs that Komppa and other urban boosters bemoan is really a small slice of modern suburbia--the so called exurbs.

The intellectual fuzziness of the 'making cities work for millennials' movement is annoying.  But, mostly it just feels underhanded.  Like a mask for something that feels, underneath it all, a lot like a push for consolidating gentrification.   





 

Universities and the Yik Yak Monster

"Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose."  Me and Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin

When Janis sang about freedom, it was in romantic, if melancholy terms. 

On the internet, by contrast, freedom usually means the right to engage in the chaotic smack-down of anyone you disagree with.  And, by chaotic smackdown, I mean the right to threaten people with whom you disagree with physical harm, rape, torture, public humiliation, and/or death.  There's no better example of this right now than Yik Yak. 

For the uninitiated, Yik Yak is an anonymous social media app.  The preview on I-Tunes says that "Yik Yak acts like a local bulletin board for your area by showing the most recent posts from other users around you. It allows anyone to connect and share information with others without having to know them." 

'Yaks' (anonymous comments) can only be read by people within 1.5 miles of the poster's location.  The geographic nature of Yik Yak makes it  popular on college campuses. There are enough people around to start conversations, and all of those people share some basic things in common (age, shared classes, etc.) that make them inclined to talk to each other.  

Unfortunately, the anonymity of Yik Yak means people feel free to say hateful things they probably wouldn't say publicly, or even in the company of these same peers.   

Last year, when students protested police brutality in Ferguson during peaceful events on American University's campus, for example, yakers on campus sounded like they'd just walked out of George Wallace's Alabama.  For those with the stomach for it, here's a sampling of the vitriol.   

Yik Yak has also been used to denigrate or otherwise humiliate people.  A New York Times story on Yik Yak recounts a student reading a yak that compared her to a hippo.  Professors aren't immune either.  The same article recounts a series of yaks made during a class about a female professor.  Few of them were printable in a family newspaper.  

Most recently, students in a feminist group at nearby University of Mary Washington claim they've been stalked and harassed on yik yak.  Students in the group report receiving threats for their activist work and having their real time movements on campus reported on yik yak--a move that made students feel like they were in constant danger. 

So, how do college administrators respond to all of these problems? 

Well, let's just say that in the hands of college administrators, freedom sounds like a flimsy excuse to do nothing. 

To be fair to college administrators (and their PR hacks), most do issue public condemnations of the content of the yaks.  But, the great majority stop there.  After the ruckus at Mary Washington, for example, the university issued a statement that said in part that the university has "no recourse for cyberbullying" and directed students to complain directly to Yik Yak.  Not surprisingly, companies tell victims to call police--and on a college campus that means calling campus police. And the buck passing begins. 

Colleges can't make their students behave.  But, they could certainly make it hard for them to misbehave.  Many students and professors who have been harassed and threatened on Yik Yak argue that their universities should block access to anonymous apps like Yik Yak on campus wifi systems. 

Unfortunately, most colleges and universities refuse to do so, justifying their inaction on free speech grounds.  In fact, that's exactly how a spokesperson from Mary Washington explained the school's decision to a reporter with the Washington Post:  "There are First Amendment concerns when you are a state institution." 

I don't buy this argument one bit. 

Blocking Yik Yak from a university's wifi does not block speech.  Rather it blocks a particular venue for speech.  And,universities have been blocking venues for free speech for years--the only difference is that these venues are in real rather than cyber space.  Many universities, for example, have set up 'free speech'/'protest' zones.  Normally, they are tucked far away from any venue that might be used to host speakers, and thus draw protestors.  In effect, the university says you can speak freely on campus, but only in designated spaces.   

It feels hypocritical then, to hear universities claim they can't do the same in cyberspace, especially when there's ample evidence that Yik Yak isn't just a venue for hateful speech, but threatening/dangerous speech as well.   

Perhaps universities aren't worried about preserving free speech so much as avoiding lawsuits from Yik Yak?