Atlanta is Not For Sale

Ann Hill Bond

While riding through Atlanta neighborhoods, capturing stories of gentrification with Tory Edwards, co-founder of Atlanta Influences Everything, photographer and filmmaker Melissa Alexander begins to share her story of gentrification: “I was on my porch in West End, braiding my daughter’s hair, when I viewed a touring backpacking group of up to 25 individuals wandering down her street being told by their guide: “This is an untapped area.” Hearing confusion and anger sit into her voice, my mind wonders with this image of a Black mother and daughter on her porch watching the early changes of their neighborhood– the constant question kept creeping in, “Where did the word “gentrification come from, and how have we allowed it to take up so much space in our community and culture?”

In 1964, while working at University College London’s Centre for Urban Studies, British sociologist Ruth Glass coined the term “gentrification.” Glass used the term to describe the displacement of working-class London residents by middle-class newcomers. Glass’s term was a subversion of the British upper-class term “gentry,” which she used to describe the “middle-class liberal arts intelligentsia” moving into her primarily working-class neighborhood.

Learning the background, I never felt so aware of a word. Sixty years after Glass coined this term, Atlanta’s influence on the word can be seen transforming the city, particularly in its historically Black neighborhoods of West End, South Atlanta, and East Atlanta. As new developments rise, long-standing residents face increasing pressure from soaring property values, higher taxes, and escalating living costs, often leading to displacement.

The gentrification culture in Atlanta can be traced back to policy decisions and economic shifts. Data from the Atlanta Regional Commission highlights the rapid pace of these changes. 

Between 2010 and 2020, property values in these neighborhoods have increased by more than 50%, outpacing the city’s average. While beneficial for economic growth, this surge disproportionately affects long-term residents who struggle to keep up with rising costs. A study by Georgia State University found that nearly 40% of residents in these neighborhoods are at risk of displacement due to gentrification.

In “Atlanta is Not For Sale,” four Atlanta natives share their stories, offering personal insights into the effects of gentrification. Their experiences, captured through photographer Melissa Alexander’s lens, reveal the human side of this urban transformation. Through their voices, we explore the complex interplay of progress and preservation in the fight to not sell the soul of Atlanta.

WEST END

Bem Joiner, 45, Oglethorpe Ave Atlanta, Ga 

As a native of Atlanta, Bem Joiner has always expressed his profound appreciation for the neighborhood that molded him into the creative thinker he is today. Growing up in West End, Joiner learned early that his neighborhood was particular. His neighbors included figures like Jamil Abdullah al-Amin (formerly H. Rap Brown) and historian Janice Sykes.

Leaving his community daily to attend North Atlanta was more of a win for the residents of Northern Atlanta, who could experience the culture of Southwest Atlanta that Joiner brings with him in every word, body movement, and life experience. Sitting on the porch of his childhood home on Oglethorpe Avenue (now owned by his sister), he looks out at the changes his community is experiencing.

Joiner emphasizes that West End made him into the flag bearer that all of Atlanta proudly enjoys and, at times, exploits. However, as long as he can return to this porch that holds over 40 years of memories, he will forever shout “WEST END” in the neighborhood roll call, upholding the legacy of his community.

WEST END

Davida Huntley, 40, Peeples St. NW Atlanta, GA 30310

Crowned Miss West End in 1988, Davida Huntley grew up on one of the most historic streets in the West End community, Peeples Street. Her grandparents bought her childhood home in 1971. Huntley’s family has raised four generations in this home, sharing sweet memories of playing in the backyard trees and family gatherings in the front yard.

Huntley always knew her home was a special place, especially after witnessing her grandmother bake cakes and make fried chicken plates for the students of Brown High School next door on Wednesday. “There was nothing that couldn’t be accomplished in the Southwest neighborhood,” Huntley says proudly, reflecting on her journey “from cradle to career” from the steps of the brick house.

Holding the deed to her grandparents’ house while standing on the sidewalk, she looks up at the porch she once called home. With the strength of her mother and grandmother, she knows she is adding to her West End foundation, even after having to leave her home because the previous owners declined her offer to buy it.

SOUTH ATLANTA

Brenda Trammell, 63, Gammon Ave, Atlanta GA 30315

Pulling out every photograph, college degree, and newspaper clipping she could find in her three-bedroom home in Historic South Atlanta, an area formerly known as Brownville, Trammell delves into her family’s story. It began in Atlanta when her grandparents purchased the home in December 1946 after moving from Elberton, Georgia. Learning about her family history connected her to this home even before birth.

Trammell recalls the love story of her parents meeting outside the house: her mother washing the blinds in the front yard and her father, then a student at Clark College just 500 feet away, strolling to the theater when his eyes met his soulmate. Trammell’s parents have long since passed away, leaving the house to her. Now, she spends time with her grandchildren, telling them the history of her home and neighborhood.

Most things have stayed the same in the community’s demographics since Trammell’s days at Lakewood Elementary School and North Fulton High School, but property taxes are different. “Us over here, we are connected forever—in life and death,” she says. “Mr. D.H. Stanton’s family across the street ensured we had a family plot near them at South-View Cemetery. That is the community of South Atlanta.” 

EAST ATLANTA

Brian Page, 39, Lewfield Circle  Atlanta, GA 30316

the late 1980s, the Page family moved into their current home on the eastside of Atlanta. Back then, the neighborhood was predominantly Black, with only one white family. The homes were new; the community had children playing outside, and everyone knew each other. It was a tight-knit community where I felt comfortable raising my family.

The area has mostly stayed the same physically; the sidewalks and houses remain the same. However, the demographics have shifted significantly. Many white families have moved in today, and you see people jogging and walking their dogs—things uncommon back then. The neighborhood now feels different, not just in the faces you see but in its overall energy.

When Page’s father bought his childhood house in 1987 for $62,000, it was a good investment. Now, the property value has skyrocketed, which is a double-edged sword. While it’s great to see the property value increase, the rising taxes are a concern, especially for retirees like Page’s dad and his wife. We’re not feeling the pinch yet, but I worry about it for the future.

The cultural heritage of East Atlanta has definitely been affected by gentrification. The development brings more amenities and places to eat, which is nice, but the neighborhood’s identity is changing. I grew up here; all my memories are tied to this place. Seeing it transform into something unrecognizable is bittersweet.

Emotionally, it’s challenging. I have a deep pride in this neighborhood because I’ve seen it through the years when it was less desirable to outsiders. Now, people who wouldn’t have stepped foot here are moving in, and it feels like the community I grew up in is disappearing. It’s not that I don’t welcome change, but it’s hard not to feel like something is being lost.

I always get calls from people wanting to buy my property, but I’m going nowhere. This is home, and moving me out will take more than money. The history, the memories—those are priceless. Despite all the changes, this neighborhood is still a part of my identity.