Racism and Gaytrification in Seattle's Capitol Hill

I chose to move to Seattle for several reasons--the hills and morning fog remind me of another Pacific port, Valparaiso, the refreshing climate, the progressive political culture that has brought about the laudable though imperfect minimum wage increase and all the things I could learn from a uniquely diverse city, racially, sexually and economically. I was and still am excited to see where these dicussions are going.

I guess my expectations needed to be tempered a bit, my hope of new, omnipresent persepctives was rather quickly shattered when I was part of an all too familiar script last saturday in Capitol Hill.

The Capitol Hill neighborhood in Seattle is (in)famous. Known alternatively as the gay neighborhood, as dangerous, as expensive, as alternative and as cliche, it is difficult to describe, yet familiar to most urban dwellers in the United States, and many around the world (Palermo and San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Cerro la Carcel, Valparaiso and Providencia, Santiago. Kreuzberg, Berlin, for examples) It is a rather old story that has transformed entire cities (San Francisco), involving a rather rapid switch wherein recently franchised homosexuals, with a healthy dose of race, class and gender privilege, gentrify a neighborhood. Given that homosexuality is indeed still a marginzalized class, it is ESPECIALLY unfortunate to see this process which pits them against other comrades in the struggle, unfold in front of my eyes.

It was the first night out drinking in the city for me and my partner; wow were we eager (and still are) to put on our dancin shoes and start skootin a boogie. We went to Raygun, a board game bar, in the heart of Capitol Hill. We met with a new friend and some of his friends, all white, cis homomen and more than middle-class (whatever that means anymore)

At first, everything seemed nice enough. we ordered a round of beers, played some almost-entertaining board games, and these loose ladies' first night on the town was going well! Until, and this is a big, Until, that recurred throughout the night. Until he said it:

"Look, that guy's cute, for an Asian."

"Cute, but probably has a small dick"

That was enough! More than enough! "And how could you know that?"

"Well, I mean statistically speaking"

"Well, statistically speaking you probably have a slightly less than medium-sized dick, then"

"No, aren't we like number 2 out of the 4 races"

It is disappointingly easy for these conversation to spiral into ridiculousity, so, my sweetheart and intelligent partner asked: "Do you still believe in race?"

"I believe there are genetic differences."

At this point, we were able to explain that some peoples of West Africa have more in common with Nordic peoples than they do with some of their geographic neighbors. He believed us, understoood his mistep, but I do not believe he incorporated this new knowledge as deeply as I would have liked. Unfortunately, we were even farther from questioning the masculinist ideas of bigger = better, sex = penetration, etc

In narrating this conversation, I want to show how in daily conversations we create and naturalize perceived distance, and shortly, I will show, through a conversation with the same couple, exactly how this creates material inequality as well. Sexual racism is racism and has no place in our queer community.

Our friend wanted us to accompany him to the couple's house because he had a small gift for us there (what a sweety!) Unfortunately, we had to suffer the microagressions that seep through the skin of this couple.  The apartment, as they reminded us twice, was constructed two years ago and had a large living room, two bedrooms, two baths, a dining room, a kitchen and a balcony, sealed off by a newly purchased ("didn't I see that on TV?" "Yes!") hi-tech magnetic door. The all white phure-bhreed husky showed us her tricks and was promptly sent to lie down in her bed. The decorations without soul: only three things hung from the wall--minimalist renditions of the airports of Boston, Chicago and Seattle (so cultured!),  the gluten-free pumpkin brownies and thematic coasters unconvincingly screamed "Welcome, Fall!"

And then, they started to talk their trash, again.

Here is where we found out one of them works for Amazon(a force that has changed the landscape of this city and particularly that neighborhood--this story adding to the evidence) , and the other in some sort of office, where he hires and fires assistants as if their livelihood did not depend on having a job. Here's the nail-in-the-coffin conversation:

"Tomorrow my news assistant Tomas (in french accent) starts. I love me a little Frenchie"he says, teasing fidelity.

"Too bad you fired the filipino last week--I know you wouldn't have touched him, and he was so much cheaper. Only 11 dollars the hour"  responded his boyfriend, not realzing he was part of a satire.

"But I just couldn't reisst! when Tomas came in, I had to let the other one go. This frenchie will cost me even more than a local, but it'll be worth it to see him bringing me my coffee."

This is a new face of Capitol Hill, the one being imported and created partially by Amazon. The one being sustained through daily microagressions. Although homosexuals belong to a marginalized class, racism is strong amongst them, and perhaps, even more convincing for that very reason. I am deeply disappointed by the conclusion, the same one I arrive to again and again: that even gays, iwth ambiguous class identities, who live in supposedly alternative neighborhoods, continuously reconstruct racism, sexism and classism. (both as an identity issue and the as class relations) The hopeful conclusion that logically follows is: positive changes have to be won by and for all of us, because if not, we end up rearranging poverty and differences in symbolic power, not eliminating it.