The Fall and Rise of Sugar Hill: An Observation on Gentrification in Harlem
By Lisa DuBois 

I grew up in Sugar Hill, a neighborhood of Harlem known for the sweet life, but in the sixties, it had become a memory of the glory days of the Harlem Renaissance when the hill was populated with many affluent Black leaders and actors. When standing at the highest point of the steep hill at Amsterdam Avenue and 145th Street and looking east, one’s line of sight extends for half a mile until reaching the edge of Harlem’s east side. 

One of my uncles purchased several buildings in Harlem during the white flight. He owned a six-storey building at 545 West 148th Street where I lived with my family. The door was flanked with four stone lions and elegantly inscribed with the name “Bernice” in faded gold letters, symbolizing a bygone era. The name, with its Greek origins meaning “bringer of victory,” was well-suited for the mindset of original European residents who I am sure felt like victorious pioneers in a new world. 

My grandparents, uncle, and aunt lived in their own apartments in the Bernice which gave me a deep sense of security and connection to my family. Dr. Vernon Baker, our physician, was a family friend and had his practice in an office on the first floor. As a child, I played with my friends on the street and the elders sat on the stoops. Three churches on the street have managed to stand the test of time. On Sundays, I recall the captivating gospel singing that resonated from the Baptist churches as we made our way to our Catholic church, where the music was practically nonexistent and lacked excitement and passion. 

My father lived a long life and passed away in the building at one hundred years old. My final memories of 148th Street are a protracted two-year lawsuit against the landlord. I lost the case to keep the apartment and received a small recompense relative to the gentrified worth. This ordeal affected my views on gentrification. I avoided going back to 148th Street and would purposely drive around it to avoid confronting the feelings attached to that experience. 

When I made the decision to go back, I noticed the original door to my old building had been replaced and is now known as “545.” The four stone lions guarding what had been the Bernice remained, but the eyes had been painted gold—a kitschy trend that began in the early days of gentrification.

I parked beside the Baptist church and let the soft echoes of the music take me back in time, a particular type of bittersweetness that emerges from the memories of a familiar location. To my own surprise, after this trip, I would soon realize that in time my views on gentrification would change when I looked at it from a different perspective.

In the seventies, New York was grappling with one of the worst drug epidemics in its history. Harlem was severely affected and Amsterdam Avenue was saturated with heroin addicts, making it necessary for me to change my route when going to school. During this time, I received a scholarship to attend the Windsor Mountain boarding school in Massachusetts, and I left Harlem for four years.

Upon returning home from school, I observed significant changes. A considerable number of brownstones were condemned and for many years, it seemed like Harlem would remain in a perpetual state of uncertainty and deterioration as many people began to move. hen I learned the term “white flight” it triggered a memory of the last remaining white resident in my building, an elderly woman, Mrs. Reid, who always seemed angry, lonely, and out of place. Now I understand why. 

Just as Harlem was detoxing from heroin, crack became the new drug of choice in the eighties. At this time, Harlem began to exhibit a combination of traits that positioned it as an ideal candidate for gentrification. Its geographic location offers proximity to the Hudson River and Riverside Park on the west side and to Harlem Meer lake in Central Park on the southeast side. 

When low-income residents reside in desirable locations and the neighborhood begins to decline, gentrification becomes an appealing incentive for real estate developers. Deals are executed between landlords and brokers, which has been customary throughout history.

In the early 2000s, Harlem experienced an accelerated period of renovation and construction. I captured photographs of some of these changes knowing that this urban landscape would soon undergo a significant transformation. The strange sculpted faces and animals in the buildings’ façades that seemed to glare at me reflected the culture of early residents of Harlem.   

In 1684, when Dutch settlers moved north to Manhattan, they were accompanied by enslaved people and indentured servants. The area was undeveloped wilderness and they soon found themselves in conflict with the original inhabitants of the area, the Wecquaesgeek people. The unbalanced power distribution led each person to develop their own crude methods for survival in the newly conquered land. 

There is a strong argument to be made that the systematic ruthless removal of Natives was the first form of gentrification in Manhattan, since the process involves the displacement of one community that is replaced by another, typically composed of wealthier individuals who possess greater power and financial resources to invest. The community unravels and fights to survive as it experiences the legal but insensitive process of gentrification. 

When gentrification takes hold, it permanently alters the neighborhood in a way that can never be restored. When I went back this year to photograph the same buildings from 2004, I realized that there were whole new sets of buildings that were being renovated and that gentrification is a continuous cycle that never ends. I began to adjust my own philosophy with the indisputable reality that change is unavoidable and necessary. By applying this concept to gentrification, I began to perceive it differently. 

I am uplifted and encouraged by knowing that during the early stages of gentrification, there was an unseen force at work. Harlem visionaries who understood the seriousness of the situation worked hard to preserve the history of Harlem. Statues of African American heroes were erected and new street names were added to reflect the all-African American community that existed in the pre-gentrification era. There are many aspects of Harlem culture that draw scores of tourists each year which is one of the reasons why it is crucial for a vibrant Black population to thrive in Harlem.

Predicting Harlem’s future is challenging, but it is highly likely that such institutions as the Studio Museum in Harlem and the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture will endure and continue this work. I realized that gentrification was a multifaceted phenomenon that can provide both enormous benefits and devastating drawbacks for different groups of people. Gentrification does not end; instead, it evolves.