Five reasons New York's Chinatown is surviving gentrification scourge
Property ownership, enduring community ties, fresh immigration from China, and being a dining destination have helped Chinatown survive when others have succumbed to development, writes Nick Tabor
Every summer, Wellington Chen, director of New York Chinatown's Business Improvement District, dispatches interns to document all the businesses that have opened or closed in his neighbourhood. He has noticed an overwhelming number of empty storefronts being filled by independent pharmacies. At the same time, senior and adult day-care centres have been proliferating.
Chen says it's a subtle indication of a trend: as so many immigrants' children have left for college and never returned, and as other families have sought real estate in the outer boroughs (particularly in Sunset Park, Brooklyn and Flushing, Queens), most of the people left in Chinatown's historic core are the elderly dwellers of rent-regulated apartments.
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How can this possibly be the state of one of the most desirable tracts of real estate in all of Manhattan? After all, Chinatown is hedged in by three of the borough's priciest neighbourhoods: SoHo to the north, the Financial District to the south and, to the west, Tribeca, where the average rent for a one-bedroom apartment is US$5,100. Developers would eagerly replace Chinatown's tenement buildings with market-rate housing for young professionals or gut the existing buildings, leaving only the tea parlours and dumpling shacks.
A similar fate has already befallen the Chinatowns of Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia and Washington, which have been reduced to ethnic theme parks where long-time residents have been priced out and new immigrants no longer come. And Manhattan's Chinatown is built on the graveyards of enclaves past: the Irish Five Points, the Jewish Lower East Side and Little Italy.
But Chen is right: so far, Manhattan's Chinatown has largely resisted the laws of the real-estate market. Often defined by the rough borders of Delancey and Chambers streets on the north and south, and East Broadway and Broadway to the east and west, the neighbourhood is still populated primarily by low-income Chinese, its storefronts are still dominated by Chinese mom-and-pop operations, and it remains a cultural and commercial hub even for expats in the outer boroughs. It has found ways to keep its internal economy humming even after its garment factories folded in the 1990s and early 2000s.
While the neighbourhood is not immune to pressures - some restaurants are shuttering because of rent hikes, hotels and luxury apartments are appearing on the periphery, and wealthier tenants are slowly filling vacancies in some of the old buildings - it is, broadly speaking, an exceptionally tight-knit and self-sustaining city unto itself.
