The Hopefuls: Gentrification and the Changing Face of Cities (and Even Some Small Towns)

In 1964, British sociologist Ruth Glass gave a name to a process reshaping urban life in ways both visible and invisible: gentrification. Writing in her book London: Aspects of Change, she described how working-class neighborhoods in London were being "invaded" by middle-class newcomers — both upper and lower — bringing with them rising rents, property speculation, and a cultural transformation that permanently altered the character of the communities they entered.

The term “gentrification” is rooted in the word “gentry,” referring historically to landowning elites — the rural upper-middle class of England. Glass saw urban parallels: middle-class people moving into cheaper inner-city areas and, in doing so, pushing out working-class families who had lived there for generations.

Once the gentrification process began in a neighborhood, she observed, it typically escalated quickly until “all or most of the original working class occupants are displaced and the whole social character of the district is changed.”

What Glass identified in 1960s London has since played out across the world: in Brooklyn, in Berlin, in Barcelona, in parts of Mexico City, and beyond. The process is now so familiar that the word itself often feels like a shorthand for the slow erasure of communities. But beneath the surface, gentrification is not just about who moves in or who gets pushed out — it’s about power, inequality, and the kind of future cities are being shaped to serve.

In today’s discourse, gentrification is often framed in neutral, even positive terms: “revitalization,” “urban renewal,” “improvement.” There are nods to “urban pioneers” — a phrase that suggests bold adventure but masks the displacement left in its wake.

As wealthier residents arrive, property values climb. Coffee shops open where corner stores once stood. Streets sometimes get cleaner, maybe the lighting improves, and some parks are renovated. But for many long-time residents, these changes are double-edged. What’s improved isn’t always accessible to them. The rents rise. The stores change. The social dynamics shift.

“I feel like I've been here before,” someone might say, walking through a newly trendy neighborhood that once felt forgotten by city planners. That feeling — déjà vu mixed with cultural anomie — is part of what makes gentrification so disorienting. The very soul of a place is replaced in increments: first the businesses, then the people, then the stories.

Glass was ahead of her time in recognizing that gentrification wasn’t just a demographic shift but a transformation of the social and economic fabric of urban life. What was once a vibrant community built on mutual reliance and shared history becomes a curated neighborhood, designed for a new class of residents with very different expectations. Those who can’t keep up with the rising costs — often marginalized groups with less economic mobility — are displaced.

Yet, gentrification is rarely framed as displacement in political rhetoric. Instead, it is tied to notions of progress.

Still, there is more to discuss than some cute metaphors for real-world movement. The truth is, for many, there is no easy place to go once they've been priced out. Crowdfunding for rent, moving multiple times a year, or enduring long commutes from affordable outskirts have become normal experiences in gentrifying cities (and gentrification even happens to some small towns).

This isn’t to say urban change (or whatever one wishes to call it) is inherently wrong. Cities and towns are always evolving.

But who gets to shape that change — and who benefits from it — is a crucial question. Gentrification, as a concept, asks us to look deeper than fresh paint and new signage. It demands we examine who belongs in the city, who gets pushed to the margins, and what kind of communities we’re building in the name of progress.

More than 60 years after Ruth Glass coined the term, we are still reckoning with the same forces she saw in London: economic shifts disguised as cultural progress, middle-class migration rebranded as revitalization, and displacement tucked beneath the language of opportunity.

The Hopefuls, the newcomers, bring ambition and money — but often little understanding of what was there before. And if we don't take care, we may find our cities filled with beautiful facades but hollowed-out histories.