I grew up living on the York Road Corridor in northeast Baltimore. York Road, which eventually becomes Greenmount Avenue as you head south towards downtown serves as a historic dividing line between race and class. In the “Predominant Race” map shown, the harsh, straight line that separates predominantly Black census tracts from predominantly White ones is York Road/Greenmount.
At one point, between the affluent Guilford neighborhood and the middle to lower-income Wilson Park community, there is even a looming, stone wall that serves as a physical reminder of Baltimore’s history of segregation. Growing up here, it was impossible to ignore the consequences of historical, systemic racism as I witnessed them every day. In high school, I drove down York on my commute, staring at the wall and looking at the jarring contrasts between the left and the right sides of the road. I was fortunate enough to go to a school and grow up with parents who encouraged me to learn about the meaning of these racial divides, and so York Road ultimately led to my pursuit of environmental justice.
How did such inequality come about? It all started with an organization innocuously known as the Home Owner’s Loan Corporation (HOLC). In the 1930s, HOLC created maps with distinct sections colorfully lined with red, yellow, blue, or green ink. The helpful colors indicated the level of risk around financial investments in each neighborhoods. Neighborhoods that were outlined in red were considered “risky” investments. But these were most often majority-Black neighborhoods, as racial/ethnic makeup was a prime consideration when choosing the level of risk. And so, this discriminatory process came be known known as “redlining.” Because of this designation, redlined neighborhoods suffered a history of disinvestment and neglect, which ultimately led to far lower home and property values. The racial distribution map shown above can also be attributed to redlining as the aftershocks from this practice are still felt today.
One of the many consequences of redlining is greenspace and park access. A 2021 study found that even today areas with lower HOLC designations tended to have fewer parks and trees. This was the very difference I noticed when I lived and explored around the York Road Corridor. On nice spring days, with trees in bloom and tulips starting to blossom, my family and I would often walk to Sherwood Garden, a park located in the Guilford neighborhood.
Sometimes, we would also stroll through the Homeland community as our neighborhood was sandwiched between these two neighborhoods. Both neighborhoods are full of green spaces and covered with lush tree canopies. It is a stark contrast to the opposite side of York Road.
Though still full of beautiful, classic homes, these neighborhoods lack the sprawling green spaces so readily available on the other side of the street. The disparity becomes even clearer the farther south you travel down York and Greenmount as the tree canopy disappears completely. You begin to notice the lack of accessible parks, trees, or even stores with fresh food. The imprint that racism and historical neglect has left on this part of the city is undeniable.
Acknowledging the lasting impacts of redlining brings to light the systemic disparities faced by communities of color in cities like Baltimore. Access to green spaces has been shown to improve mental health, cardiovascular health, child development, and even encourage healthy behavior. Lack of access to green space may manifest in many ways, including serious adverse health outcomes. Studies, like the one mentioned here, bring to light irrefutable evidence that these communities have suffered disproportionately due to historical ordinances and practices like redlining. Green space disparity is just one of the many consequences of such practices. It is a visible reminder of the inequities and injustices woven into the fabric of American urbanism and is a tangible example of environmental injustice.
The inequalities that communities like the ones mentioned here face are not a life sentence; things can be done to help improve cities like Baltimore. Luckily, this is something that people who love this city and its communities are actively working on. Despite the historic disregard of these spaces, there is still so much love and beauty to be found. Organizations like the Urban Land Institute Baltimore are working to support communities and revitalize parts of the city. In my earlier RCC essay, From Pavement to Parks: Designing Cities for People and the Planet I highlighted some current grassroots efforts to make Baltimore a greener, more colorful, and more walkable space. Improvements like these require community support, effort, advocacy, and passion. We can work together to fight against environmental injustices, improve our cities, and keep them thriving for generations to come.
RCC Stanback Presidential Fellow – Sophie Valkenberg
Sophie Valkenberg is a Master of Environmental Management student at Duke University, concentrating in Community Engagement & Environmental Justice and Ecotoxicology & Environmental Health. She was born in the Netherlands but quickly moved to and grew up in Baltimore, Maryland. Coming from a country with a very robust eco-friendly infrastructure initially sparked her interest in environmental studies and sustainable living.