Imperial Blues & Urban Borders (Elizabeth Harrison)

Fiona I.B. Ngô's book, Imperial Blues, traces the multi-racial history of the jazz age in New York, and more specifically in Harlem. While Jazz-age Harlem is often conceptualized in racial binaries of black/white, Ngô points out the more complex, multi-racial realities of the time. In Chapter 1, Ngô describes how jazz dance halls were sites of racial mixing, with persons of many races and ethnicities engaging socially and sexually. This racial mixing was seen as both sexy/exciting by its participants, and deeply dangerous by the apparatuses of the state and the media. In Chapter 4, Ngô details the ways in which Harlem was also constructed as "Araby" and relied on tropes of orientalism for some of its 'exotic' feel. 

This post will focus primarily on the Introduction, and on the idea of urban borders. Ngô begins by describing a classic of the jazz age, "Minnie the Moocher". In this song, the protagonist crosses an urban border into Chinatown, where she smokes opium. Ngô uses this song to point out the many neighborhood border crossings that characterized the cultural and racial mixing of the Jazz Age. Ngô uses Transnational Feminist and Queer of Color critiques to dissect these phenomena. 

The introduction got me thinking about the many urban borders between neighborhoods in Chicago, and the ways that gentrification (which I might broadly define as primarily-white, primarily-middle class occupation of neighborhoods traditionally home to primarily-people of color, primarily-working class residents) clearly parallels imperialism abroad. Young white (primarily queer and disabled) folks in my friend groups are increasingly moving into neighborhoods like Chinatown, Humboldt Park and Garfield Park. These border crossings are complicated by issues of queerness and disability. Queers and disabled folks are both economically marginalized, leading many white queers and disabled folks (and disabled queers especially) to feel they can only afford to live in certain neighborhoods - which are often the neighborhoods that have been economically marginalized due to segregation. Queers are often migrating from less-accepting rural areas, and disabled persons often migrating either from institutional settings or from less-accessible areas. These migrations are complicated, but they are still pushing out the neighborhood's previous residents. And, importantly, all of these migrations are taking place on stolen land - crossing borders that were created by the US state after/during genocide and displacement of native peoples. 

When I look at my own neighborhood (one of the Gayborhoods of Chicago), I am shocked to see how many straight people are moving in to the neighborhood over the past 3 years. The neighborhood feels less and less queer by the month. This is certainly a different kind of gentrification, but one that matters nonetheless. 

Ngô's project leads me to wonder, how can Transnational Feminist and Queer of Color critiques help us understand present-day gentrification in Chicago and other urban centres? How is the gentrification complicated by queer and disabled identities? How can studies of urban borders, including Ngô's project and projects examining gentrification, acknowledge the theft of land from native peoples - and include indigenous residents in these critiques?