got caught up in the drug game, and dozens of those were killed. Many are just now being released from prison. What seems like a lifetime ago was my hometown’s twenty-five-year rush of violence compounded by economic and social depression.
Just as Wilkinsburg showed a sustained period of relatively low levels of violence between 2010 and 2014 (figure 1-1), as did in the entire city of Pittsburgh, my hometown made national headlines in 2016 for an incident dubbed the “Wilkinsburg massacre.”24 That spring, Cheron Shelton and Robert Thomas opened fire on fifteen people during a backyard party and killed five people and a pregnant woman’s fetus. In response, a local broadcaster and Emmy Award–winning anchor Wendy Bell, of the television station WTAE (located about a quarter of a mile away), offered this commentary on her Facebook page, before any arrest was made: “You needn’t be a criminal profiler to draw a mental sketch of the killers who broke so many hearts two weeks ago Wednesday,” Bell posted.25 “They are young Black men, likely in their teens or in their early 20s. They have multiple siblings from multiple fathers and their mothers work multiple jobs. These boys have been in the system before. They’ve grown up there. They know the police. They’ve been arrested.”
WTAE’s parent company Hearst Television fired Bell, saying in a statement that her comments were “inconsistent with the company’s ethics and journalistic standards.” Bell and Hearst reached a financial settlement, but the deficit thinking inherent in her commentary is shared by others throughout the region, particularly among those involved in economic development. This downward, nihilistic gaze is what educators call “the deficit perspective”—the conscious or unconscious belief that members of a disenfranchised cultural group don’t have the skills to achieve because of their cultural background, or, in plain terms, that they’re not White or middle-class enough.
The deficit thinking inherent in Bell’s mental sketch of the killers is a significant reason why resources that are requisite for economic growth never get to the people who need the boost. The mental sketch of the killer isn’t dissimilar to a description of Black young people who had nothing to do with the murder. In general, investments are made in assets as well as problems in which there is a potential for a positive return; however, they are not made in people who are perceived to be problematic or who aren’t expected to add value—my friends and family in Wilkinsburg.
FIGURE 1-1. DECLINING CRIME IN ALLEGHENY COUNTY, PA. VIOLENT AND PROPERTY CRIME RATE PER 100,000, 2010–2014.
SOURCE: UCR crime data estimates.
Today’s East Liberty would be indistinguishable from Wilkinsburg if no one had thought to invest in the people of Carnegie Mellon, University of Pittsburgh, Google, and the assets in that section of town. Economic development has always been chiefly about people—except when it comes to Black people in Black neighborhoods. When it comes to Black people, economic development becomes about investing in inanimate objects, like buildings in which Whites are the assumed beneficiaries. Phrases such as urban development and urban planning are misnomers, because in practice they are mostly real estate deals that aren’t substantively connected to the Black and Hispanic business and homeowners (or potential owners) closest in proximity. As a result, many affordable housing and tax incentive programs in inner cities facilitate White people’s growth and end up displacing Black residents in the long run.
Many of the academic institutions and businesses that regularly receive investments in the Pittsburgh area have no deep ties to Black communities. Consequently, those dollars don’t go beyond those social networks. The placemaking efforts leading to the development of Bakery Square exemplify what can happen when Black people aren’t seen or valued. Inclusive growth can’t happen without investments in existing talent and social networks within the neighborhoods where they reside.
The invisibility of Black institutions, firms, and social clubs in various economic strategies is so stark that many cast doubts on whether many Black-majority cities like Wilkinsburg should even exist. “Merger with the central city is an option more physically contiguous inner-ring suburbs should consider,” writes Aaron Renn, a researcher at the Manhattan Institute for Policy Research.26 Journalist Eduardo Porter, commenting on small cities’ struggles to adapt to economic downturns, writes, “As technology continues to make inroads into the economy … it bodes ill for the future of such areas.”27 If Black-majority cities are a problem, making them less Black through annexation becomes the solution.
We know too well that merging with a larger city isn’t a foolproof path to prosperity. Indeed, there are Black neighborhoods within Pittsburgh that are struggling just like Wilkinsburg; Homewood and Beltzhoover are almost indistinguishable from my hometown. Not only is Wilkinsburg small, it hosts many undereducated single moms and fathers who’ve been to jail or prison: people whom many believe are incapable of adapting.
Restoring value is, indeed, possible. It was returned to East Liberty. The rationale of Pittsburgh’s transformation from a rust belt to a brain belt city can be applied to thinking about how to revive struggling, Black-majority communities. White Pittsburgh’s revitalization didn’t happen from talent alone. Economic growth and advancements in technology are a direct result of strategic investments in people who are trusted. Those who aren’t trusted are left behind.
When I run the Wilkinsburg streets now, my heart pounds, not from fear but from encountering some of my former classmates on Penn Avenue. One classmate who I’ll call Frank told me that, after a long bid in prison in the nineties, he has been doing odd jobs, trying to survive. He looked depleted, like he’d run a distance he couldn’t handle. Back in the day, I was scared of him. Now, I’m fearful for him, and for the residents of Wilkinsburg. It’s the same palpable fear I feel when in Detroit, Ferguson, Baltimore, and other Black-majority cities. The town is realizing the impact of divestment and devaluation and there is no hope in sight, because no one invests in perceived deficits or problems. Still, the people and property have value. The assets in Wilkinsburg are made invisible by the negative perceptions of Black people. However, instead of running away, I’m learning to run toward distress, learning how to fight back.
2
A Father Forged in Detroit
The deliberate deployment of racist policy toward Black neighborhoods has been documented, measured, and accounted for when looking at outcomes of people like my father Floyd, yet we would rather blame Black parents and parenting for the economic and social trajectory of people in Black-majority locales. We often hear “It all starts at home” when searching for reasons why someone ends up poor, incarcerated, or murdered. Some would rather find cause in poverty instead of policy. In this vein, “It all starts at home” covers for the belief that people’s deficits are to blame for negative outcomes. “Individuals are left without the norms that middle-class people take for granted,” New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote in a column about urban poverty.1 His commentary shows how subtle blaming people while ignoring policy can be. Brooks adds, “It is phenomenally hard for young people in such circumstances to guide themselves.”
Behaviors don’t exist in a vacuum. Life and death are shaped by forces larger than oneself. Factors like generational wealth, property taxes, and bias baked into home valuations all limit or expand the choices a person can make. According to my research highlighted in this chapter, the value of homes in Black-majority neighborhoods across the country is $156 billion lower than their equivalents in similar White neighborhoods. In addition to eliminating wealth,
