The average affluent black and Hispanic household -- defined in the study as earning more than $75,000 a year -- lives in a poorer neighborhood than the average lower-income non-Hispanic white household that makes less than $40,000 a year.
"Separate translates to unequal even for the most successful black and Hispanic minorities," says sociologist John Logan, director of US2010 Project at Brown University, which studies trends in American society.
"Blacks are segregated and even affluent blacks are pretty segregated," says Logan, who analyzed 2005-09 data for the nation's 384 metropolitan areas. "African Americans who really succeeded live in neighborhoods where people around them have not succeeded to the same extent."
The disparities are strongest in large metro areas in the Northeast and Midwest where segregation has always been high. It's lowest in more recent booming parts of the Sun Belt.
"White middle-class families have the option to live in a community that matches their own credentials," Logan says. "If you're African American and want to live with people like you in social class, you have to live in a community where you are in the minority."
I think it's important tease out the two sides of this story. One reason why it's bad to compare blacks and whites of equal "income" is hinted at here. Your immediate family may well be technically middle-class, but if you're a black kid, there's a very good chance that your social circle isn't. This is to say nothing of cousins, friends of family and so on. And this obviously has some implication when we talk about neighborhood institutions, (like public schools, culture, and social capital.)
With that said, I think it's also really important to also consider the benefits of being a member of an ethnic group, where you tend to have more cross-class contact than the norm. My parents both had college degrees. But virtually none of my friend's parents did. The result was that I was always between worlds.
On the one hand there was the code of the streets, which you really needed to know in order to protect yourself from bodily harm. And then there was the code of the Coates home, in which reading and writing were important, and the personal computer was privileged over the Atari. It would be wrong to see these two codes as always in conflict--indeed my parents very much had values which we might call "street." (The importance of defending yourself, for instance, was big in my house.) But in general the two worlds didn't really enforce each other, and sometimes they were directly at odds.
It's tempting to say that was a bad thing. In fact, as I've said
before, the experience made me bilingual and allowed me a certain access
to spaces that I could not imagine having otherwise. Indeed, I admit
some sadness as I grow older and I feel myself losing a particular
language that explains less and less about my life. I am sad because the
fact that a space is troubled, doesn't mean that you don't enjoy it.
is the first year of my life that I've ever lived in a non-hood; I was
born to Park Heights, and everywhere I lived after that was some
variation. It's the smallest things I miss. At my neighborhood grocery
story, people are a little ruder and think nothing of cutting the line.
For awhile I couldn't understand why no one would say anything when this
Cutting the line rarely happened in
Harlem because to do so, was to risk a literal cutting. Thus a kind of
uneasy, but pleasant, respectfulness prevailed. If you've ever been to
certain black nightclubs you can see the same thing--a kind of reserved,
almost studied, politeness. But there's no real violence here, or
threat of it. People have too much to lose. Someone cutting you in a
line is a big deal when you coping with the grinding disrespect of
poverty. When you're only coping with keeping up a private school
payment, not so much.
I love my new
neighborhood, but it's funny, I can't say I won't move back. You get
used to the rhythm of your people. And, troubled or not, you love it.
A British broadcaster doggedly tried to put words into the academic’s mouth.
My first introduction to Jordan B. Peterson, a University of Toronto clinical psychologist, came by way of an interview that began trending on social media last week. Peterson was pressed by the British journalist Cathy Newman to explain several of his controversial views. But what struck me, far more than any position he took, was the method his interviewer employed. It was the most prominent, striking example I’ve seen yet of an unfortunate trend in modern communication.
First, a person says something. Then, another person restates what they purportedly said so as to make it seem as if their view is as offensive, hostile, or absurd.
Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and various Fox News hosts all feature and reward this rhetorical technique. And the Peterson interview has so many moments of this kind that each successive example calls attention to itself until the attentive viewer can’t help but wonder what drives the interviewer to keep inflating the nature of Peterson’s claims, instead of addressing what he actually said.
The federal government will reopen on Tuesday after Senate Democrats accepted an offer from Majority Leader Mitch McConnell to end their filibuster of a stopgap spending bill. Congress passed the bill early Monday evening.
Updated on January 22 at 6:15 p.m. ET
Senate Democrats have given in.
A three-day shutdown of the federal government ended on Monday after Senate Democrats dropped their filibuster of a stopgap spending bill and accepted an offer from the Republican leadership to debate an immigration proposal by early February.
An overwhelming majority of the Senate voted, 81-18, early Monday afternoon to advance legislation to fund the government for the next three weeks, through February 8. A final version cleared the chamber on an identical vote later in the afternoon. Shortly after 6 p.m. Eastern, the House easily approved the bill on a bipartisan vote, 266-150, and sent it to President Trump for his signature.
Their peaceful premises and intricate rule systems are changing the way Americans play—and helping shape an industry in the process.
In a development that would have been hard to imagine a generation ago, when video games were poised to take over living rooms, board games are thriving. Overall, the latest available data shows that U.S. sales grew by 28 percent between the spring of 2016 and the spring of 2017. Revenues are expected to rise at a similar rate into the early 2020s—largely, says one analyst, because the target audience “has changed from children to adults,” particularly younger ones.
Much of this success is traceable to the rise of games that, well, get those adults acting somewhat more like children. Clever, low-overhead card games such as Cards Against Humanity, Secret Hitler, and Exploding Kittens (“A card game for people who are into kittens and explosions”) have sold exceptionally well. Games like these have proliferated on Kickstarter, where anyone with a great idea and a contact at an industrial printing company can circumvent the usual toy-and-retail gatekeepers who green-light new concepts. (The largest project category on Kickstarter is “Games,” and board games make up about three-quarters of those projects.)
TNT’s new prestige series focuses on a doctor using criminal psychology to pursue a serial killer in 1890s New York.
It says something about how fiercely The Alienist commits to discomfiting its audience that the most disturbing scene in the first two episodes isn’t when the camera disappears inside the darkness of a young boy’s mutilated eye socket, or even when it lingers on the syphilitic sores on the bloodied face of a shrieking asylum inmate. The new TNT series, based on the 1994 bestselling novel by Caleb Carr, is viscerally gruesome (literally visceral, in some cases), portraying a late 19th-century New York City that’s a fetid, teeming quagmire of disease, corruption, and iniquity. You want butchered bodies? Ten a penny. Pox-ridden psychopaths destined for the electric chair? The Alienist is a veritable grab bag of triggering visuals and nauseating images.
After a rocky start in theaters, the Hugh Jackman–starring circus musical has become a massive word-of-mouth hit.
The hottest box-office story in Hollywood right now isn’t Star Wars: The Last Jedi, which made more than $600 million in the U.S. and became the sixth biggest hit in movie history. It isn’t the surprising success of Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, an unambiguous smash that has cemented the star power of Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart. No, the most interesting film in last weekend’s returns was The Greatest Showman—the family-friendly original musical about P.T. Barnum starring Hugh Jackman that has now made $113 million in five weekends. It was a risky proposition of a movie that got mediocre reviews and initially generated little excitement from audiences. Now, it’s one of the largestword-of-mouth hits in Hollywood history. So what happened?
Allegations against the comedian are proof that women are angry, temporarily powerful—and very, very dangerous.
Sexual mores in the West have changed so rapidly over the past 100 years that by the time you reach 50, intimate accounts of commonplace sexual events of the young seem like science fiction: You understand the vocabulary and the sentence structure, but all of the events take place in outer space. You’re just too old.
This was my experience reading the account of one young woman’s alleged sexual encounter with Aziz Ansari, published by the website Babe this weekend. The world in which it constituted an episode of sexual assault was so far from my own two experiences of near date rape (which took place, respectively, during the Carter and Reagan administrations, roughly between the kidnapping of the Iran hostages and the start of the Falklands War) that I just couldn’t pick up the tune. But, like the recent New Yorker story “Cat Person”—about a soulless and disappointing hookup between two people who mostly knew each other through texts—the account has proved deeply resonant and meaningful to a great number of young women, who have responded in large numbers on social media, saying that it is frighteningly and infuriatingly similar to crushing experiences of their own. It is therefore worth reading and, in its way, is an important contribution to the present conversation.
When truth itself feels uncertain, how can a democracy be sustained?
“In God We Trust,” goes the motto of the United States. In God, and apparently little else.
Only a third of Americans now trust their government “to do what is right”—a decline of 14 percentage points from last year, according to a new report by the communications marketing firm Edelman. Forty-two percent trust the media, relative to 47 percent a year ago. Trust in business and non-governmental organizations, while somewhat higher than trust in government and the media, decreased by 10 and nine percentage points, respectively. Edelman, which for 18 years has been asking people around the world about their level of trust in various institutions, has never before recorded such steep drops in trust in the United States.
Entertainment glorifying or excusing predatory male behavior is everywhere—from songs about “blurred lines” to TV shows where rapists marry their victims.
Edward Cullen. Chuck Bass. Lloyd Dobler. Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That guy from Love Actually with the sign. The lead singers of emo bands with their brooding lyrics. Many of the romantic heroes that made me swoon in my youth followed a pattern and, like a Magic Eye picture, only with a little distance did the shape of it pop out to me. All of these characters in some way crossed, or at least blurred, the lines of consent, aggressively pursuing women with little or no regard for their desires. But these characters’ actions, and those of countless other leading men across the pop-culture landscape, were more likely to be portrayed as charming than scary.
Romance often involves a bit of pursuit—someone has to make a move, after all. And there’s certainly a spectrum of pursuit: Sometimes supposedly romantic gestures in pop culture veer toward the horrendous or illegal; sometimes they’re just a bit creepy or overzealous. But revisiting some of these fictional love stories can leave one with the understanding that intrusive attention is proof of men’s passion, and something women should welcome. In a number of cases, male characters who were acknowledged to have gone too far—by, for example, actually forcing themselves on women—were quickly forgiven, or their actions compartmentalized and forgotten.
A grandmother’s perspective on navigating a tricky and increasingly common relationship
“Is that your grandbaby?” asked the gate agent who checked Rachel through to the area for departing passengers. “Sure is,” I said. For long seconds, my husband and I remained at the gate in John F. Kennedy International Airport, waving goodbye. And then she was gone. Hard to believe that our firstborn grandchild was now a 20-year-old student heading back to the University of Edinburgh. Otherwise, Rachel lives with her family in a rural village outside of Geneva, Switzerland, where she was born. Given the distance, we see them as often as we can, but not as often as we’d like.
Imagine our surprise and delight, then, when the phone rang last spring and it was Rachel, asking if she could come and stay with us in New York when school was out. It would be for a couple of months. “I hope to get a job,” she said, “but mostly I want us to spend more time together.” There were lots of ways she could help: “shopping for groceries, cooking some meals, seeing to it that Grandma gets out more and does her exercises ...”
The Senate struck a deal to reopen the government on Monday morning—but without any help from President Trump.
If ever there were a time for a dealmaker in Washington, this weekend was it. Friday, as a shutdown loomed, it seemed as though Republicans and Democrats would be able to reach some accommodation to fund the government, but in the wake of that failure, the mood turned bitter over the weekend.
With leaders in Congress at an impasse, the most logical person to step in and broker an arrangement was the president of the United States. That’s usually the case, but it’s especially true now, with a president whose name, thanks to his first book, is practically synonymous with deals. And yet, Donald Trump remained strangely absent. Oh, sure, the president was tweeting, but he offered mostly uncharacteristically bland restatements of the White House line that it was all Democrats’ fault. After meeting with Democratic leader Chuck Schumer on Friday, Trump stayed largely on the sidelines.