Atlanta, Georgia. The cradle of the Civil Rights Movement. When I tell fellow community development practitioners from other parts of the country that I’ve started my own community development corporation in the suburbs of Atlanta, there’s an assumption that the history and culture of the Civil Rights Movement have paved the way for equitable community development in BIPOC neighborhoods. People often find it hard to believe when I start to explain the complete absence of infrastructure to support community-driven development in the suburbs that have quickly become the embodiment of diversity in America.
As a second generation Korean American, I straddle two (often more) cultures to navigate a society that is frustratingly binary in structure. There are times when I actively resist conforming to cultural norms, but find my efforts futile because culture is powerful. Culture is what connects us. Culture is “our people”. Culture is home.
What does this mean as we try to shift the paradigm towards anti-racist community development?
The research findings show that “scant investment and resources devoted to suburban community development… has important racial equity implications, as suburbs increasingly attract more residents of color without grappling with their histories as places of intentional and explicit racial exclusion.” Although it looks like a single-family house with a white picket fence, the premier destination of last generation’s white flight is built on exclusionary foundations that are more insidious in nature and will only strengthen over time without a paradigm shift in community development. How will BIPOC and immigrant communities adapt the time-tested approach of place-based community development in a place where some of the foundational pillars just don’t exist?
Where there are less ties between people, place, culture, and history.
Where our histories are shorter and less collective.
Where it’s more culturally integrated, physically.
Where it’s more socially segregated, racially and ethnically.
Where the individualistic structure disrupts community building.
Where aging in place can quickly turn into social isolation.
Where upward mobility is just an interstate exit away.
Where affordable housing is called extended family.
Where transit… what transit?
Where everybody speaks a different language, but the documents don’t.
Where the people have changed, but the culture remains.
If reading this overwhelmed or discouraged you, you missed the point. This was written to remind us that the movement that inspired Asian American organizing that have fought to shape our own communities in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York surely has the power to inspire the next generation only a couple of exits north on I-85.
Frank Lee is the founder and Executive Director of 85 Community Development Corporation, a community development organization serving diverse communities in the northeast suburbs of Metro Atlanta through culturally-specific services and community-driven development. His previous experiences include operating culturally-specific transit service for refugee and immigrant communities, serving as a planner for various municipalities in Georgia, and supporting community planning efforts in Little Tokyo and Koreatown in Los Angeles. Frank holds a Master’s in Urban and Regional Planning from California State Polytechnic University and a Bachelor’s in Urban Studies from the University of Pittsburgh.
The author is responding to the findings shared in the Anti-Racist Community Development Research Project, produced with support from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation (RWJF) to increase understanding of structural racism in community development and pathways to racially equitable outcomes that promote health equity. The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views of RWJF or ThirdSpace Action Lab.
© 2023 Robert Wood Johnson Foundation