Homeownership has long been part of the American dream. Once regarded as taboo, federal influence in this sector has grown over the years. Today, over 400,000 New Yorkers reside in 344 public housing developments around the five boroughs. However, the history of our public housing policies was variable, to say the least.

Prior to 1933, the provision of shelter by the government was nonexistent—this was solely an individual’s business. In fact, the idea of subsidizing housing units was regarded as socialistic and the United States government preferred a hands-off policy. The closest the United States had ever come to public housing was in 1918 when Congress allocated $110 million to two programs for housing war workers. But with intentions far from helping the poor, the houses were soon sold to private developers and the government was, once again, out of the housing business. The Great Depression in 1929, however, fundamentally shifted the American Government’s attitude towards intervention in the housing market.

The Great Depression had an immense impact on the housing industry and the homeowner. With astronomical declines in construction of residential property, expenditures on home repairs and a never-before-seen rate of foreclosure, the housing market was headed towards complete collapse. It was evident that a safety net was necessary as other sectors of the economy were subsequently suffering. In 1931, President Hoover proposed a federal housing policy that centered around amortized mortgages, low interest rates and reduced costs. Although the government realized it had to intervene, Hoover’s policy proved to be inconsequential because the government still relied on private capital initiative.

Real changes were beginning to take form when Franklin D. Roosevelt entered office in 1933. Both the Home Owners Loan Corporation (HOLC) and Federal Housing Administration (FHA) had lasting impacts on public housing. Their negative attitudes towards city living and subjective “systematize” rating methods did little more than measure ethnic and racial worth.  As housing was back on the rise in 1936 and it became cheaper to buy than to rent, the HOLC and FHA gave suburban areas higher grades and urban life deteriorated as middle-class constituents moved out of cities. Homogeneous, suburban neighborhoods were given higher ratings and were given loans more easily, even though “residents of poorer sections generally maintained a better pay-back record than did their more affluent cousins.”

It was not until the civil rights movement that people began to see the redlining practices of the FHA. Jackson makes it clear that lasting damage was done to the housing market and, more specifically, urban life, calling it “the supreme indignity.” While the history of public housing in America may have been far from effective, public housing is now a very important part of society. During an internship last semester, a majority of my work was related to low-income public housing for New York City residents. As a life-long Staten Island resident surrounded by one-family homes, I never knew just how many people rely on public housing. There is definitely room for improvement in certain policies, but public housing in urban neighborhoods has come a long way.

When you hear the word immigrant, who usually comes to mind? I think of my grandparents who left Europe in the 1970s in search of greater opportunities. I picture my best friend’s parents who fled Pakistan years ago. The Warmth of Other Suns provides an intensely personal account of a migration of different sorts, however — an epic migration that is often overlooked but that has profoundly shifted American society.

The unique aspect of Wilkerson’s novel is that it recounts stories of people who were not walking through the doors of Ellis Island, but rather “citizens” who had already lived in America for years. Over the span of 55 years, 6 million black Americans made a risky decision to flee the Jim Crow South. I had always known that discrimination in the South was blatant and often generated dangerous environments for blacks. I found it surprising, however, that while the North was nowhere near as prejudiced, sentiments against people of color were still quite tempestuous.

Although the excerpts provided at the beginning of each chapter — namely the last two by Ralph Ellison and James Baldwin — were not Wilkerson’s own, they added depth to her story. The addition of Ellison’s quote underscored the idea that many blacks left everything they ever knew for something that was far from peachy, but there was still “something worth hoping for.” Baldwin’s quote, “The wonder is not that so many are ruined, but that so many survive,” echoes hardships faced by blacks that could not be described more powerfully.

Delving deeper, Wilkerson bases the bulk of her novel around three characters: Ida Mae Gladney, George Starling and Robert Foster. Each person brought a vastly different story to the table, but they were representative of the struggles and successes faced by the greater migrant population.

After doing some additional research on Wilkerson and her novel, I found that she had interviewed more than a thousand people and accessed data and official records in order to write her novel. This factual basis, combined with the intensely personal accounts of Wilkerson’s characters, resulted in a rare combination of history and prose that I enjoyed reading. In retrospect, The Warmth of Other Suns packed more of a punch than I thought it would. 

Distinguishing between urban, suburban and rural areas was once an easy task. Cities were thought to be poverty-stricken industrial hubs cushioned by surrounding homey suburbs that eventually led to rural farmlands. Now, convention is being challenged as the definition of “city” is changing. What truly determines a city or suburb, and where do different neighborhoods fall on the spectrum?

As Michael B. Katz explains in his article, the United States has undergone a historical metamorphosis after the Second World War. Transformations of demography, economy and space have all led to new urban forms; the borders between cities, suburbs and countryside continue to blur. Cities that naturally blend with their urban and suburban peripherals and were able to withstand deindustrialization have been most successful. In fact, Katz uses Los Angeles as the best example for a perfect city. As the most important twentieth-century industrial city, Los Angeles has long been multicentered and multiethnic. In contrast, Katz mentions industrial cities such as Philadelphia and Detroit that have not experienced such vibrancy. Their populations decreased and jobs were lost, but why?

Katz says, “ We concluded that America is living through a transformation as profound as the industrial revolution—one that reshapes everything, from family to class, from race and gender to cities.” But will America ever stop evolving? I do not think so. However, that is where the beauty lies. I think that the U.S. Census Bureau’s attempt to “…develop a reclassification of municipalities based on a sophisticated mathematical model…” will be to no avail. There are too many variables that come into play when defining the word “city” (income, race, politics, etc.) that an equation would be rendered inadequate.

Personally, I agree with Nick’s earlier post in that Michael Katz’s article comes to no definitive answer. Instead, he illustrates that the structure of American cities seems to change as often as their definitions do. Whether through industrialization, redevelopment, gentrification or reclassification, America’s demographics will continue to shift and the “growing pains” are many, but that is the nature of existence.

Side Note:

During our class projects this semester, I think it would be interesting to use Katz’s concept of a successful city (such as Los Angeles) as an allegory. Do our sites employ multiple hubs so as to lend to multicentered and multiethnic areas of attraction? Will this help emulate Los Angeles’ success? Perhaps we can carry out our assignment with these questions in mind and see if there is any correlation.