{"product_id":"white-space-black-hood-isbn-9780807000298","title":"White Space, Black Hood","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003eA 2021 C. Wright Mills Award Finalist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShows how government created “ghettos” \u003ci\u003eand\u003c\/i\u003e affluent white  space and entrenched a system of American residential caste that is the  linchpin of US inequality—and issues a call for abolition.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe  iconic Black hood, like slavery and Jim Crow, is a peculiar American  institution animated by the ideology of white supremacy. Politicians and  people of all colors propagated “ghetto” myths to justify racist  policies that concentrated poverty in the hood and created  high-opportunity white spaces. In \u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood\u003c\/i\u003e,  Sheryll Cashin traces the history of anti-Black residential  caste—boundary maintenance, opportunity hoarding, and stereotype-driven  surveillance—and unpacks its current legacy so we can begin the work to  dismantle the structures and policies that undermine Black lives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDrawing  on nearly 2 decades of research in cities including Baltimore, St.  Louis, Chicago, New York, and Cleveland, Cashin traces the processes of  residential caste as it relates to housing, policing, schools, and  transportation. She contends that geography is now central to American  caste. Poverty-free havens and poverty-dense hoods would not exist if  the state had not designed, constructed, and maintained this physical  racial order.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCashin calls for abolition of these  state-sanctioned processes. The ultimate goal is to change the lens  through which society sees residents of poor Black neighborhoods from  presumed thug to presumed citizen, and to transform the relationship of  the state with these neighborhoods from punitive to caring. She calls  for investment in a new infrastructure of opportunity in poor Black  neighborhoods, including richly resourced schools and neighborhood  centers, public transit, Peacemaker Fellowships, universal basic  incomes, housing choice vouchers for residents, and mandatory inclusive  housing elsewhere.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eDeeply researched and sharply written, \u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood\u003c\/i\u003e is a call to action for repairing what white supremacy still breaks. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIncludes  historical photos, maps, and charts that illuminate the history of  residential segregation as an institution and a tactic of racial  oppression.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003ci\u003ePrologue: Stories They Told Themselves and a Nation\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eINTRODUCTION\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 1\u003cbr\u003eBaltimore: A Study in American Caste\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 2\u003cbr\u003eWhite Supremacy Begat “the Ghetto”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 3\u003cbr\u003eSegregation Now: The Past Is Not Past\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 4\u003cbr\u003eGhetto Myths and the Lies They Told a Nation\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 5\u003cbr\u003eOpportunity Hoarding: Overinvest and Exclude, Disinvest and Contain\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 6\u003cbr\u003eMore Opportunity Hoarding: Separate and Unequal Schools\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 7\u003cbr\u003eNeighborhood Effects: What the Hood and America Demand of Descendants\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 8\u003cbr\u003eSurveillance: Black Lives Matter\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCHAPTER 9\u003cbr\u003eAbolition and Repair\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eAcknowledgments\u003cbr\u003eNotes\u003cbr\u003eImage Credits\u003cbr\u003eIndex\u003cbr\u003eAbout the Author\u003c\/i\u003e“While extensively documented and amply footnoted, Cashin’s survey remains compelling and accessible to a general readership. A resonant, important argument that White supremacy and racial division poison life in our cities.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"Cashin’s levelheaded reform suggestions draw from real-world success stories, such as an outreach program in Richmond, Calif., where gun violence plummeted after “violence-prone” young men were given access to therapy, job training, and a monthly stipend. This is a well-researched and persuasive guide to a major source of inequity in the U.S. \"\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Cashin’s study of the racial foundations of residential castes is an accessible and compelling read that balances historical documents with personal narratives.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This well-researched and accessibly written volume examines the government-created system of residential caste in the US. Cashin also provides ideas for the abolition of these practices to create a more equitable future for all.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eMs. Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e, “September 2021 Reads for the Rest of Us, 9\/1”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In \u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood: Opportunity Hoarding and Segregation in the Age of Inequality\u003c\/i\u003e, Sheryll Cashin demonstrates how durable and pervasive anti-Black rhetoric has been in American thought from the days of Thomas Jefferson to the era of Donald Trump . . . . Cashin explains how racial presumptions once used to justify enslavement eventually led to mandatory segregation in housing.”\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eWashington Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"In the   brilliant and important new book,\u003ci\u003e White Space, Black Hood:   Opportunity Hoarding and Segregation in the Age of Inequality\u003c\/i\u003e,   Georgetown law professor, Sheryll Cashin, identifies and condemns three   methods of white supremacy at work throughout the United States: boundary   maintenance, opportunity hoarding in the form of commercial exclusion and   educational apartheid, and stereotype-driven surveillance.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Counterpunch\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Like slavery and Jim Crow, the Black hood has in many ways been shaped by white supremacy. Politicians from both sides of the aisle, people of all races and nationalities propagated and appropriated this idea of “the ghetto” and the myths around it as a way to “justify racist policies that concentrated poverty in the hood and created high-opportunity white spaces.” Based on nearly 20 years of fieldwork and research in cities such as Baltimore, New York, St. Louis and Chicago, Cashin looks at the housing disparities and redlining as it relates to schools, policing and access to transportation. \u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood\u003c\/i\u003e calls for the abolition of state-sanctioned systemic oppression and calls for a new infrastructure of opportunities in poor Black neighborhoods.\"\u003cbr\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Root\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood\u003c\/i\u003e makes a powerful case that ‘geography as caste is destroying America.’ It will be impossible to heal the soul of the country without addressing the defining problem this extraordinary book illuminates.”\u003cbr\u003e—Richard D. Kahlenberg, \u003ci\u003eNew Republic\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[A] valuable primer on some of the main engines of racial inequality in the modern United States.” \u003cbr\u003e—Heath W. Carter, \u003ci\u003eChristian Century\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sheryll Cashin is one of the most important civil rights scholars of our time, and \u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood\u003c\/i\u003e is her magnum opus, the searing culmination of decades of research about the devastating consequences of segregation. Cashin builds on Michelle Alexander’s \u003ci\u003eThe New Jim Crow\u003c\/i\u003e and Isabel Wilkerson’s \u003ci\u003eCaste\u003c\/i\u003e to take down liberal and conservative orthodoxies on race. (White) America is not ready for this book.”\u003cbr\u003e—Paul Butler, author of \u003ci\u003eChokehold: Policing Black Men\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In this brilliant and nuanced new volume, Sheryll Cashin exposes the ways in which American policy decisions, from the early twentieth century to the present, have constructed a ‘residential caste system’ resulting in the entrapment of Black people in high-poverty neighborhoods while ‘overinvesting in affluent white space.’ Riveting and beautifully written, \u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood\u003c\/i\u003e convinces the reader of the centrality of geography in economic and social inequality.”\u003cbr\u003e—Henry Louis Gates, Jr.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We need Sheryll Cashin’s scholarship to make sense of the racial inequalities that mar every urban community, and we need her vision to guide us to a more equal society. Illuminating, compassionate, and engrossing . . . an instant classic.”\u003cbr\u003e—Heather McGhee, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Sum of Us: What Racism Costs Everyone and How We Can Prosper Together\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“With analytical precision, Sheryll Cashin masterfully tells the story of how Black neighborhoods have been gutted by the system of housing anti-Blackness. . . . \u003ci\u003eWhite Space, Black Hood\u003c\/i\u003e is clear, compelling, and demands our attention.”\u003cbr\u003e—Bettina L. Love, author of \u003ci\u003eWe Want to Do More Than Survive\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“In pulling back the curtain on how residential segregation creates caste for some and economic profit for others, Cashin offers a clear-eyed view of the precarity of our present and provides a path toward a more equitable future.”\u003cbr\u003e—Noliwe Rooks, author of \u003ci\u003eCutting School: The Segrenomics of American Education\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eSheryll Cashin\u003c\/b\u003e is an acclaimed author who writes about the US struggle with racism and inequality. Her books have been nominated for the NAACP Image Award for Nonfiction, the Hurston\/Wright Legacy Award for Nonfiction, and an Editors’ Choice in the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e. Cashin is the Carmack Waterhouse Professor of Law, Civil Rights and Social Justice at Georgetown University and an active member of the Poverty and Race Research Action Council. A law clerk to US Supreme Court justice Thurgood Marshall, Cashin also worked in the Clinton White House as an advisor on community development in inner-city neighborhoods. She is a contributing editor for \u003ci\u003ePolitico Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e and currently resides in Washington, DC, with her husband and twin sons. Follow her at sheryllcashin.com and on Twitter (@sheryllcashin).I met Lakia Barnett on an overcast September morning in 2018. A client of a legal clinic at Georgetown Law, where I teach, she agreed to tell me the story of her family’s search for housing and sta-bility in the DC metro area. Lakia was a married, Black, mother of three in her thirties. She didn’t own a car, so I agreed to pick her up and take her to lunch at a restaurant of her choosing for the inter-view, a respite for two mothers while our kids were in school. The Barnett family lived in Southeast DC, east of the Anacostia River in Ward Eight, the city’s poorest ward.The drive from the law school, near halls of Congress and courts superior and Supreme, to Lakia’s home took about fourteen minutes. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI drove the interstate past Southwest DC, remade by urban renewal and gentrification, and MLK Boulevard. Lakia’s block in Garfield Heights, minutes from the Maryland border, seemed sturdy and unremarkable. I parked in front of a modest, brick row house. A chain-link fence enclosed a small front yard that offered little room for child’s play.I entered the gate and knocked on the door, and Lakia emerged, engaged in an urgent conversation on her cellphone. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe nodded, followed me to my car, and continued talking, rattling instructions to a volunteer for a production that she and other women were putting on. They were staging monologues to tell their stories of pain and tri-umph and inspire others; it was Lakia’s brainchild and new mission. With long extensions that she twisted as she talked, Lakia sounded more like an entertainment producer than a HUD voucher holder who had recently moved from a homeless shelter.She escaped by luck, pluck, and fierce advocacy on her behalf from a Georgetown Law student and faculty advisor. Lakia had known stability. In 2013, she and her husband had been living in the same apartment for seven years, in a working-class Black neighbor-hood in Temple Hills, Maryland, until hell came to them. Simultane-ously, they were both laid off and soon fell behind on rent. Then they were robbed. Masked men invaded in the early afternoon, perhaps not expecting an unemployed parent at home with young kids. Lakia recalled staring at the gun in her face as she pleaded with the invad-ers not to harm her children. The Barnetts were the seventh family in the area to be robbed. The invaders stole all their valuables and the rent money they had accumulated. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Everything else after that was just a tornado,” she said. “We filed a police report. They didn’t find [the robbers] and I don’t think the police really cared. They may have even suspected us.” The sheriff came to evict them with no notice. “They told us to get out immediately,” she said.Broke, they moved in with Lakia’s mother in Northeast DC af-ter which the mother herself was soon evicted. The Barnetts spent the next two years moving, from family to friends to hotels, wher-ever they could stay until they wore out their welcome or ran out of money. Lakia and her husband, who prefers to remain anonymous, tried hard to find jobs. “No one would hire us,” Lakia said of this period. “We had high school diplomas but no clear skills.” Lakia had worked with children at a YMCA until that program was shuttered and she was laid off. Her husband had been a concierge at an apart-ment building. \u003cbr\u003eLakia described herself as “very hands-on with my children.” She could not afford childcare and could only work during school hours. She managed to get hired as a dietary aide at a hospital, delivering trays of food to patients. After about a year, she was fired abruptly by a supervisor who would not accommodate her request for time off to deal with her mother’s emergency hospitalization and yet another eviction. “I was not allowed to have any error in my life,” she said of her supervisor. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Barnetts lived on Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF), family donations, and informal work her husband found. Lakia’s friends, shocked when she announced she was expecting a third child, encouraged her to abort. They had two sons and after she gave birth to a girl, her husband told her, “I knew this was my girl because everybody wanted us to get rid of her.” They were a devoted, Christian family that held on to each other through turbulence.A week after her daughter was born, Lakia relented and went to an intake center for DC homeless shelters. They lived in a squalid hotel on New York Avenue in Northeast DC for nine months. “It was terrible,” she said. A wet ceiling dripped on her asthmatic son. His eyes swelled, and her other son developed issues with his stomach. There were fights among residents, and prostitutes hailed customers across the street from the hotel.This was Lakia’s first experience living in concentrated poverty. She felt that about half the residents were people like herself, who were “trying hard to do things right,” she said. The other half had succumbed to hopelessness. “A lot of people there had lost a sense of life,” Lakia said of residents who took or sold drugs or engaged in other destructive behavior. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You have to understand,” she elaborated, “some people do things because they don’t see any other way to survive.” Lakia tried to make the best of the hotel-shelter. She organized a dance group for young girls who lived there and found herself minis-tering to residents. She became an advocate for women in the shelter, particularly those who had been abused domestically or sexually. She is still haunted by the day she watched as an infant was taken from a mother, purportedly because of the deeds of a violent boyfriend.The Barnetts moved to DC General after Lakia complained about health risks to her children. This large shelter on the premises of a former hospital, which has since closed, “felt like a prison,” she said. The security guards and some staff were “nasty” and treated resi-dents like they were “the lowest,” she stated. “A lot of people have been misunderstood because they are homeless. They have feelings, ambition, goals but they didn’t know how to execute” to achieve them. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt the shelter, she said, “there was no room to see the individ-ual, to find out what passions or vision they had to make themselves better.” The attitude of the staff was “just go take anything” for a job, even though working at a McDonald’s, she said, might not be a sustainable path. “No one would know from my being homeless that I could publish two books, host my own radio show, or start a [theater] movement” for women, she said proudly of her journey.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe decaying DC General homeless shelter was infested by rats, and bugs that bit children. A baby died there. An eight-year-old, Rel-isha Rudd, was taken from the building by a janitor in 2014 and was never found. An investigation revealed more than a dozen claims of shelter employees sexually abusing tenants.2 Mayor Muriel Bowser closed the shelter in 2018, replacing it with six smaller facilities scat-tered throughout the city, including one erected in affluent Ward Three, over the objections of some locals. While living at DC Gen-eral, Lakia learned to tap the resources and networks of service pro-viders, particularly an onsite legal clinic.Georgetown’s Health Justice Alliance set out to improve outcomes for poor families by addressing multiple social determinants of their health, including stable housing and quality education. A Georgetown Law student helped Lakia advocate for her children. Both sons have dyslexia and other disabilities. The student-lawyer helped Lakia negotiate the DC school lottery. In DC’s segregated school system, a “great” school meant a whiter school than Lakia was used to. The elementary school her sons had attended had a way of “dropping the ball,” she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Through the lottery, they accessed better options. Her younger son, Jermel, was placed at School Within A School Elemen-tary, its child-centered teaching philosophy inspired by the Reggio Emilia schools of Italy, which Lakia described as “really great.” The school had more of a “mixture” of students and more “structure” than where he had been, she said.Lakia’s advocate helped her acquire an Individualized Education Program (IEP) for both her sons. The federal government grants about $12 billion annually to states and localities to pay for services for the 10 percent of American children with special needs.","brand":"Beacon Press","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303189008613,"sku":"NP9780807000298","price":28.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780807000298.jpg?v=1767744136","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/white-space-black-hood-isbn-9780807000298","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}