Who’s Moving Into Historically Black Neighborhoods — And How Can They Afford It?

Across the country, historically Black neighborhoods are facing a familiar and unsettling shift. For decades these communities have carried rich cultural identities, strong family ties, and deep-rooted histories. But as gentrification accelerates and the cost of living continues to rise, a fundamental question emerges: If longtime residents can barely afford to stay, who exactly are the people moving in — and how are they able to pay for it?

The answer lies in a combination of economics, policy, and opportunity — forces that often favor newcomers over the very people who built these neighborhoods.

Many of the new residents are young professionals with higher incomes and access to financial tools that have long been out of reach for Black families. They come with stable salaries, remote-work jobs, and the ability to secure mortgages with lower interest rates. Some are investors, backed by corporations or private equity firms, able to purchase multiple homes at prices unimaginable to current residents. Others are people priced out of more expensive parts of the city and see these neighborhoods as “up-and-coming,” often without understanding or valuing the history they’re moving into.

This wave is not happening by accident. Cities often offer tax incentives for developers, loosen zoning rules, and encourage new construction they believe will increase revenue. But these same policies rarely protect existing residents from rapidly rising rents, inflated property taxes, and aggressive buyout offers.

The result is a painful contradiction: generations of Black families are being priced out of the very communities they nurtured, while newcomers — often with more wealth and more institutional support — move in with ease.

Gentrification isn’t simply about change. It’s about imbalance. It raises a larger, uncomfortable truth: when the cost of living rises beyond what the people who made a neighborhood can afford, the issue isn’t just economics — it’s equity. And unless cities take meaningful steps to protect long-standing residents, the communities that shaped America’s urban culture risk being erased one block at a time.

Miami-Dade’s Magnet Schools Are Still Leaving Black Students Behind

Recently, I toured a magnet school fair hoping to enroll my daughter. What I found was troubling—though, sadly, not surprising. The room was filled with programs that claim to represent the “best” of Miami-Dade Public Schools, yet there was a striking lack of Black families present.

That absence forced me to confront a painful question: How is it that, in 2025, Miami-Dade County Public Schools is still running the same old playbook—one that excludes Black families not by policy, but by process?

Why are so many application resources, information sessions, workshops, and recruitment events held far down south, miles away from Black communities in the northern district? Why must Black parents make long, costly, unrealistic commutes just to access opportunities other families receive almost effortlessly? And even worse—why isn’t critical information being shared equally across all neighborhoods and platforms?

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this pattern. I remember when the first magnet program opened at my old middle school. New students were bused in to take advantage of the program, while many of the Black students who actually lived in the neighborhood were bused out. Even as a child, something about that felt wrong. I thought magnet programs were created to give public school children—all children—the same advantages private school kids enjoyed, not to segregate students and strip resources from their own communities.

Maybe I misunderstood back then, but I’m not misunderstanding now.

What I witnessed at this year’s magnet fair was disappointing—and deeply disheartening. When the demographics inside the fair don’t reflect the demographics of the school  district, it tells a bigger story: access is not equal, and Black children are still being left out of opportunities they deserve.

Magnet programs should be bridges, not barriers. They should lift students up, not move them aside. And if Miami-Dade truly cares about equity, it must confront a hard truth: Black families are still being pushed to the margins, expected to fight twice as hard—or travel twice as far—just to give their children a fair chance.

Our children deserve better.
And we deserve real answers—not excuses.

Questions Linger Over the Death of Doug Martin in Oakland Police Custody

The recent death of Doug Martin while in Oakland police custody has raised serious questions that demand transparent answers. Details surrounding the incident remain murky, and what little information has emerged only deepens public concern.

Reports indicate that a struggle occurred before paramedics were called, yet authorities have released no detailed account of what actually transpired inside that holding area. There’s no available bodycam footage, no clear timeline of events, and no official explanation about Martin’s condition leading up to the medical response. For a department already facing long-standing scrutiny over its treatment of Black men, this silence feels both troubling and familiar.

The lack of transparency invites speculation and erodes public trust. In cases like this, the absence of information is itself a statement—one that suggests the system is again protecting itself rather than the truth. If there was nothing improper about how officers handled the situation, why are the reports being withheld? Why haven’t witnesses or first responders provided even a basic summary of what they observed?

Oakland, like many cities across America, has a complicated history with police accountability and racial bias. Time and again, Black men in custody have suffered “medical emergencies” following “struggles” that end in tragedy. These patterns make it impossible to take official silence at face value.

The community deserves more than another vague statement and a promise of an internal review. They deserve facts. They deserve footage. They deserve justice—whatever that may look like once the full story is known.

Until the Oakland Police Department provides a transparent, comprehensive account of how Doug Martin lost his life, the public has every right to remain skeptical.

This isn’t just about one man—it’s about a system that too often closes ranks when accountability is needed most.