The Little Red Door by Janiya

The Little Red Door by Janiya - September 2021 Scholarship Essay

As a tenth grader who had just completed her first year of education at the most academically challenging school in the city, there was significantly little I could be told about what I did not know. As I walked confidently into my DC-History class, I was entirely ready for whatever was thrown at me - or so I thought. A filler class that I thought would have little effect on my life, turned out to be the catalyst that changed my entire opinion on my city.

First, we started with the history of the nation's capital, Pierre L'Enfant, colonialism, Benjamin Banneker, and the birth of a nation. Everything changed when the topics shifted from the past to the present - racism in DC, violence in DC, and gentrification in DC. Gentrification... Gentrification... Gentrification. The word elicited a rumble in my stomach and a murmur in my heart. Immediately, I thought of the tiny house with the red door. Changes in the neighborhood took my family by storm. Overpriced condos, coffee shops, and high risers metaphorically chewed us up and regurgitated us.

To me, gentrification was synonymous with displacement. So, when my teacher challenged us to write an opinion editorial on gentrification in DC, I was prepared to put my anger on paper. I wrote of my experience with gentrification and expressed my frustration with the people who moved into the tiny house with the red door. I came into class the next day with a chip on my shoulder. When it was my time to present my essay, I stood up with my head held high and read. By the time it was over, many of my classmates had clapped in agreement, except one girl.

When it was her time to present, she spoke of misplaced anger related to the topic of gentrification. She argued that gentrification could be something beautiful if it were not for the corruption and greed of government officials. By the textbook, gentrification means to enhance and beautify an area. I had never thought of it this way. I went home and began to reflect on my feelings and if I was actually experiencing misplaced anger. Maybe I should be mad at the government instead of the new residents. Maybe gentrification could be a good thing.

As I continued to process my way of thinking over the next few weeks, the city okayed a few projects in my neighborhood. As a result, our rent increased. Then, my family was forced to relocate; and, white transplants moved into our tiny home with the red door. Who was at fault? Was it the city or the newlywed couple searching for a new start in a new city? I decided to take up my problems with those in charge.

I sat in community committee meetings with my grandfather and made sure my voice was heard when it was decision-making time for changes in our neighborhood. The girl in my class argued that gentrification could be beneficial to the community, if only we expressed more grief and disappointment with the council. I took on her challenge and began to look for ways to gentrify my city without negative effects. I started with the renovation of my high school. For years the city had promised the high-achieving student body a new school building; and, year after year we were pushed further down the priorities list.

It was my time to shine. I worked hard with other students to rally outside of the Wilson Building. Inside was the Office of the Mayor. We demanded she gives us a new building and refused to leave until we received one. After all, we were the #1 ranked school in the District of Columbia learning in the worst conditions of any other high school students in the city. Eventually, the Mayor agreed to a newly renovated building; and, as of August 31, 2021, my schoolmates and I are learning in a state-of-the-art school building. We were able to successfully gentrify our neighborhood for the benefit of the community.

The power of discussion is unmatched. My classmate transformed my view on gentrification from a largely negative experience to an opportunity to improve my neighborhood. My teacher providing my peers and me an environment that embraced and nurtured all opinions resulted in my proactive behavior. Now, when I think of the tiny house with the red door, I am no longer full of resentment. Instead, I am reminded of the lesson on the positive impact gentrification can make on my community.