When my brother asked if I could drop him off at the airport in the morning, I knew my plans for spring break to sleep in were no more. I was instructed to leave around five in the morning to avoid all the “morning traffic.” But as we began our drive through D.C., the empty streets and deserted sidewalks told the story of a sleeping city, just starting to wake up early on that Monday morning. For as long as I can remember, D.C. has been my home. I began attending school there in kindergarten when I was five years old and since moving away for college, D.C. has always been the place I return to. During breaks and holidays, I return to the city to spend time with my family, siblings, and friends. But driving through the morning and observing the small changes to the neighborhoods around me, I began to realize that my connection to D.C. is now quite distant. The city I grew up in is evolving more than ever before and D.C.’s urban identity is becoming increasingly hard to grapple with. 

In July 2023, the District of Columbia was home to approximately 678,972 residents, according to a U.S. Census Bureau estimate (US Census Bureau 2023). Current numbers given by the office of D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser now place this number at around 712,000 (Government of the District of Columbia 2022). While the variation in population size is primarily due to the D.C. Comeback plan instituted by Mayor Bowser, these numbers currently surpass the populations of Vermont and Wyoming while remaining comparable to states like Delaware and Alaska (Government of the District of Columbia 2022, The Office of the Mayor of the District of Columbia 2023). Nicknamed “Chocolate City,” D.C. has boasted a historical ethnic diversity dating back to the 1970s when D.C. maintained an almost 71% majority-Black population (Austermuhle and Bonessi 2021). However, over the past decade, D.C. has experienced a wave of growth that added approximately 100,000 new residents to the city. This influx of people has vastly flattened the ethnic diversity of D.C.; only 45% of the population identified as Black and African American in July of 2023 (US Census Bureau 2023). This population trend has brought about drastic changes to D.C.’s housing landscape; a 2013 study found that D.C. had the most intense pattern of gentrification when compared to cities across all fifty states (Wiltse-Ahmad 2019). The study reported that the entirety of the city was 40% gentrified, leading San Diego—the next highest city—by a startling 11% margin (Wiltse-Ahmad 2019). 

D.C. remains under-equipped to handle these drastic—often negative—changes to its demographic and residential environments. D.C. workers currently pay more federal taxes than 22 U.S. states with no say over how those funds are spent (Government of the District of Columbia 2022). This phenomenon, commonly referred to as “taxation without representation” puts D.C. at a strict disadvantage when pursuing budgetary projects that require additional funding and must seek congressional approval to use federal dollars. During the COVID-19 pandemic, D.C. was denied a whopping 750 million dollars under the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act. While each state was guaranteed a $1.25 billion aid package, D.C. was promised only $500 million, an amount that was grossly insufficient and bordered on insulting (Barnes 2020). Together, these examples paint a clear picture of D.C. as a nebulous and liminal space. While it might have the capacity to survive as a city, its statehood has been the single most prominent barrier in its quest to thrive. Even more clearly, the ramifications of D.C. statehood have profound political impacts. Enfranchising D.C.’s “plurality-Black” population has the potential to drastically diversify national legislation and begin the long process of correcting historical and contemporary stubborn, racist politics (Government of the District of Columbia 2022). The road to statehood is long, but current D.C. inhabitants are finding ways of adapting and overcoming the challenges imposed by the city’s complicated urban reality. These adaptations are hard to notice at first but are overwhelmingly obvious if you know where to look.

After the heat of the COVID-19 pandemic died down, D.C. began allowing restaurants to use vacant curbside parking lanes to provide outdoor eating space. These areas have remained a fixture of neighborhoods like Georgetown and Adams Morgan, which have adapted to a more pedestrian-friendly atmosphere (Figure 1). Cities like New York that are taking down these outdoor eateries are perhaps eager to erase the legacy of COVID-19 by dismantling these spaces; but D.C. has embraced its new identity as a vibrant, outdoor city (Rahmanan 2024). When Adams Morgan Plaza was unexpectedly fenced in by the private development company Hoffman & Associates in 2021, the firm was confronted with harsh public criticism and a substantial lawsuit (Schwartzman 2023). In the harsh winter of 2022, unhoused plaza resident Miguel Gonzales died of hypothermia while sheltering from the cold against the fences of Adams Morgan Plaza (Moyer 2022). An outcry of community support for Miguel and his memory inspired public protest, a vigil at the plaza, and a mural project on the building just behind the plaza. The mural, which read “SAVE OUR PLAZA, PARA MIGUEL” was later power-hosed and removed from the space only a short time afterward likely by Hoffman & Associates's request.