White houses, white picket fences, white collar jobs, and white families- for decades, suburbia has been synonymous with whiteness. A cookie-cutter house with a manicured lawn is a middle class status symbol many Americans dream of owning. In an article for The Washington Post, Theodore Johnson details his experience as a black suburban homeowner. For Johnson, mowing the lawn is an important ritual that communicates to his neighbors that he is safe and belongs in their community. Behind Johnson’s desire to belong is a deep fear of rejection and the knowledge that one wrong move could undo the acceptance he has fought so hard to earn. Although modern American suburbs have become more diverse, true inclusion remains inaccessible for many nonwhite residents.
American suburbs are generally diversifying. Although the first suburbs were almost always segregated, after the civil rights movement, people of color began to move to suburbs. My hometown, Meadows Place, is home to families from many different backgrounds. At my small elementary school, I saw a gradient of color, smelled a smorgasbord of cultural food, and heard a cacophony of my classmates’ native tongues. To the original residents of my neighborhood, this community may have felt unnatural, a deviation from the uniform white vision they had of our city. I remember our class learning about segregation and being appalled. We couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t allowed to live and learn together, where our contrasting skin colors meant we shouldn't be friends. My small city wasn’t the only community that had become more diverse; since 1990, the percentage of nonwhite residents in suburbs has more than doubled. Meadows Place is just one of many communities that have moved past their hegemonic origins and opened their gates for residents of all backgrounds.
Unfortunately, suburban diversity rarely runs more than surface deep. White supremacy is deeply ingrained into the history and structures of suburbia. The first American suburb, Levittown, sold its picturesque homes exclusively to white families. In a movement known as “white flight,” white families migrated to suburbs en masse as a response to the increased presence of minorities in urban communities. As government housing programs expanded, social workers consciously placed white families in suburban homes away from their nonwhite counterparts. Suburbia was, in effect, a safe haven for white people who wanted to be free from the “threat” of black and brown bodies. For a long time, suburbs were exclusively white communities; this is why suburban culture is inextricably linked to whiteness. Opening the doors to progress hasn’t changed the fact that historically, home ownership was an opportunity only available to white people. Since houses are passed down as generational wealth, modern Americans continue to benefit from the white privilege of their forefathers. Beyond these material impacts, suburban culture protects white hegemony by forcing conformity on its nonwhite residents. Families of color must “act white” if they wish to feel included and safe in their communities. While mowing his lawn, Theodore Johnson is approached by another black man who addresses him politely and properly. Once he realizes he and Johnson share black kinship, he begins to speak in his “mother tongue,” a vernacular dialect he had previously suppressed because something told him this suburb was not a place where blackness was acceptable. Materially, he is just as included in his community as anyone else, but his white neighbors aren’t taught to bite their tongues and make their existence palatable to others. Even when people of color are able to overcome material barriers and make a life for themselves in the suburbs, they are forced to assimilate into the dominant culture if they wish to be truly included.
In the homogenous landscapes of suburbia, inclusion remains inaccessible for many. The suburbs, while diverse, are not equitable for residents of color. Whiteness reigns supreme in many suburbs, but if America learns to overcome its prejudiced history, suburban inclusion may finally become more than skin deep. Perhaps one day, picket fences will be all that remains of white suburbia.
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