I was reading, Ms. V's blog, Life in the Village, on my lunch break today, and I caught her entry that touches on the name River East vs East of the River.A couple of years ago, I read an article, by Constantine Valhouli that discusses this branding phenomenon. Rebranding Urban Neighborhoods, discusses how people rarely think of neighborhoods as having brands. You can't own or trademark a place name. A neighborhood name, is an ever-changing bundle of perceptions in a person's mind. Yet, brands influence decisions that affect the bottom line. And in our case, the bottom line, is transitioning D.C's poorest neighborhoods into vibrant, bustling communities.
Valhouli writes, "real estate is typically the single largest purchase consumers make in their lives--and by dollar amount alone, it could be considered the ultimate luxury good (or is the most expensive necessity). And just as with luxury brands, a desirable neighborhood brand reinforces how consumers see themselves and how they would like to be perceived by others." Something to ask ourselves are whether people are living in the neighborhood because they have to, or because they want to? To what extent do prospective residents identify with the current 'users' 'of the 'brand'? I think this is where Wards 7 & 8 are hitting a brick wall. Developers, speculators, and homeowners can improve buildings or blocks, but they can't change public perception of an entire area. Some residents (existing and new) are attempting to change the perception by renaming the areas East of the River, River East.
"With emerging neighborhoods, managing the 'place brand' can create allure for prospective buyers and tenants in two ways: by generating awareness of a place's good qualities, and by dissociating the neighborhood from its prior negative identity.
Typically, initial perceptions of gentrifying neighborhoods range from dangerous ("If I run out of gas there, will I get shot?") to the merely dull ("Nothing goes on there."). These perceptions typically emerge from years of news coverage focused on crimes, or from 'conventional wisdom' passed through word-of-mouth but rarely from firsthand experience. Negative perceptions of an area often outlast the reasons for those associations. There is often a lag in coverage between a gradual reduction in crime and the start of gentrification: after all, a shooting generates press while a shooting that didn't happen is not news."
Emerging neighborhoods are also often perceived as being further away than they really are. Wards 7 & 8 have been avoided for a long time by anyone other than immediate residents. Most D.C. residents don't realize that the gentrifying Anacostia is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Capitol Hill, or that it has some of the best views of the city. Many of today's poorest urban neighborhoods are also some of a city's oldest ones; these original neighborhoods were typically close to the waterfront, the center of town, or both. Case in point for Barry Farm, Anacostia, Hillsdale, etc.
Even if the name River East doesn't stick, the attempt to create a new name can generate press(which it has)--and discussion--about how the neighborhood is actively changing the way that it is perceived. Some residents hope that this will raise awareness of the area among speculators and buyers that it is a place worthy of identification, reconsideration, and investment.
Valhouli notes that this is nothing new. "In Manhattan, real estate agents, developers, and residents have been renaming communities for these reasons since at least the Civil War. Neighborhoods such as Harsonville, Striker's Bay, or San Juan Hill don't appear on maps today--they have all been assimilated into the Upper West Side. And the Upper West Side itself was supposed to be called "The West End" to echo the glamour of London's district. However, like Boston's South End, it wasn't able to attract the upper middle class residents the developers hoped for, and it devolved into a rough area of boarding houses made famous as the setting for West Side Story.
In the 1980s, real estate developers and agents began promoting the name "East Village" to create a distinct identity for a neighborhood that had long been regarded as part of the Lower East Side, then an immigrant ghetto. The rebranding was a successful attempt to imply a geographic connection and to reflect the positive bohemian qualities of nearby Greenwich Village.
However, neighborhood brands are as vulnerable as conventional brands to the multiple messages and conflicting identities that may constantly be promoted. There are often many stakeholders in a neighborhood who have different views of how a neighborhood ought to evolve, or whether it ought to evolve at all. Backlash against gentrification can also translate into backlash against rebranding efforts."
I would guess that this is exactly what's happening when people respond to the current question: River East or East of the River? However, I think our community (new and existing residents) need to begin to ask, what is the identity of our neighborhoods? And what would rebranding do for the areas East of the River? Perhaps rebranding will serve as a catalyst for coverage of positive change and development happening in the area. Perhaps it will garner a stronger, more positive identity--once and for all dissociating from earlier, negative connotations--and my question to the naysayers, is what's wrong with that?
