The Diversity Paradox

by Alex Schafran

New Orleans is one of my favorite cities, one of the few places in America wise enough to realize that the ability to stroll down the street with a cold beer on a steamy hot day while music pours out of every nook and cranny is deeply civilized. Its beauty and brutality have been well chronicled - a cultural icon where you can witness amazing hospitality and vicious inequality on the same block. Perhaps it is fitting that a recent trip to the Crescent City spurred a post that has been long in the making.

Visitors to downtown and the French Quarter have two major options for evening entertainment, neighborhood style - the mayhem of Bourbon street, a constant blare of karaoke, top 40, hurricane-soaked revelers and strip clubs, or the smorgasbord of world class music that is Frenchmen Street, just a half-mile away in the neighboring Marigny. Bourbon Street is trashy, loud, and cheesy, and for all that it is an icon, it is fairly generic. One can find the same music and same booze and same idea in Cabo or Daytona, although perhaps without the beads. Frenchmen on the other hand has brass bands in the street, Marsalises and a steady supply of other local talent in the clubs, homemade jerk chicken and bbq in the food carts, and even fire dancers (the neo-punk burner culture is alive and well in NOLA).

If it is not obvious, I am partial to Frenchmen, and all of the Frenchmen Streets everywhere - I am more Mission than North Beach, East Village than Times Square, Hampden than Inner Harbor. But if you want to see true diversity, black and white, working class and business class, young and old, you have to go to Bourbon Street. In five minutes one can see the stark difference in who hangs out in each place.

This is one of the many paradoxes of the gentrification generation - the "coolest" places in our cities, the most "authentic", tend to be white and middle class, while the "cheesiest" and most touristy are far more diverse. This line extends indoors - malls and corporate eateries like TGI Fridays and Applebees are far more racially integrated than the funky bourgeois spaces which hipsters like me love. As hipsters, the most self-aware generation ever, with generally pro-integrationist politics, we are acutely aware of this fact, and I would argue it is at the root of some of our collective ennui.

This is not always the case - many big dance clubs fly in the face of the paradox, and there are pockets of integrated coolness everywhere. In New Orleans, there are also the second lines, the most incredible social event I know, a parade of music and revelry and city living both hip and hypercolorful in the human sense. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that they are by and for the mostly black communities in New Orleans, and the rest of us are welcome to participate. Meanwhile, folks like me struggle to figure out how to make the places we love both reflective of the cities we live in and of the lives we want to live.

Credits: Photos by Alex Schafran.


  1. It's not just the "cheesiest" areas, but also the most mundane. The most diverse place around? The City of Newark, CA's Sillman Family Aquatic Center. I dont think this observation should be too surprising: as diversity becomes more common in America, it is much more likely to be reflected in the mainstream (by definition!) than at the cultural margins.

    As a guy with children, I would also say that "hipster" spaces are demographically limited not only with regards to race and class. Appleby's has high chairs and kids menus; Cafe Revolucion, or whatever, does not even pretend to. While a small number of people have their hipster/gritty urban phase, nearly everyone everywhere becomes a family with kids.

    This article is perhaps better entitled "The Hipster Paradox," no? It's the hipster whose need for a certain strain of authenticity results in monocultural spaces. Diversity is just being itself, everywhere.

  2. This is an issue I've thought about with my life in Atlanta. My wife and I love walkable, mixed-use urban places so we lived in the Virginia Highland neighborhood here for a few years. We were a few blocks away from multiple parks, a supermarket, a library, a bus line and many restaurants.

    But we were also fully entrenched in white urban culture and all of its trends. The racial diversity of Atlanta's overall population was barely represented in this otherwise beautiful, vibrant, walkable neighborhood.

    So we ended up moving downtown to the historic heart of the city, in the middle of the downtown business district and near the tourist/convention/events areas.

    We're suddenly nowhere near a quaint coffee shop with locally roasted beans and local artists' work on the walls (and I dearly miss this kind of spot -- my fave kinda third space). We're also nowhere near a gastropub with a well-chosen list of craft beers (also missed). But we've got what we need nearby and we're closer to a MARTA train station. And most importantly, we've got the rich mix of cultures and races in Atlanta in represented everywhere we go. It was worth the sacrifice for us. But it's a shame we had to go to such lengths to find diversity.

  3. Justin - I think you point is excellent. As a recently married man contemplating breeding, I know from hanging out with friends with kids that the diversity game changes at that point, which I think is wonderful. I am not sure we can be too sanguine about it -diversity is not yet "everywhere", and people self-segregate based on their children and their education - but it is an excellent point.

    I think you also bring to mind another issue I left out, which is time of day. In the daytime, perhaps because kids can be a great equalizer, I find the city to be much more integrated. It is at night that things can change - and since so much culture is absorbed and produced at night, I think that is why I find that "cultural" spaces can seem more segregated than your local park, rec center, etc.

    Perhaps the answer is to just have children. I will get on that.


  4. Since when are hipsters a generation? They've been around forever (or at least since the 1950s), latching onto the cool of the moment and turning it into a parody of itself before most people have even noticed it exists.