Pilsen’s Community Activism and Struggle with Displacement

Jimmy Herdegen
Separate but Equal
Published in
7 min readJul 21, 2020

“We know the history of what development means in the city of Chicago. For us, urban renewal has meant urban removal. But we intend to stay where we are living now”

— Pilsen community activists, April 8, 1974

Mexicans have called Chicago home ever since the start of the 20th century. Initially attracted by the possibilities an industrial job could offer, many soon found the work and opportunities limited. Facing discrimination and threats of deportation for those who had overstayed their visa, life was a constant struggle. Despite this, Mexican families created informal communities called colonias and opened up restaurants, bodegas, and local newspapers. Yet these communities were forced out during the 1960s, causing many to move to nearby Pilsen. The generations of Mexicans and Central Americans that have called Pilsen home ever since have had to endure constant threats of further displacement through urban renewal projects and gentrification. Only through constant struggle have Pilsen’s residents fought to preserve the neighborhood’s identity.

Prior to their settlement in Pilsen, many Mexican families lived in neighborhoods in Chicago’s west side, along with Blacks and Italian-Americans. Together they tried to fight against urban renewal efforts by bringing in more affordable housing to the area. Eventually in 1960, Mayor Richard Daley announced that the University of Illinois’ Chicago campus would be located where these communities had formed. The neighborhood coalition tried to fight the effort but lost. As a result, 5,000 people were displaced by the construction. At the time, Pilsen was a predominately Eastern European neighborhood, with families initially attracted by the area’s factories. By the time many of the displaced Mexican families settled in Pilsen, however, the neighborhood’s industries had already left. Just like what happened in Garfield Park, the area’s white residents moved out to the suburbs. The change was dramatic. In 1960, only 14% of Pilsen was Mexican but by 1970 they had become a majority of the community’s residents.

While a lot could be said of why Pilsen didn’t go down the route of other Chicago neighborhoods that experienced white flight, one reason was Pilsen’s strong civic identity. Murals started popping up in Pilsen to protest the Vietnam War, but eventually local artists turned to expressing their Mexican heritage. Murals of famous Mexicans such as the artist Frida Kahlo, former Mexican president Benito Juarez, and revolutionary Emiliano Zapata spread throughout the neighborhood. Through art, Pilsen’s residents made the neighborhood their own.

A mural located between 18th St and S. Wood St; Image: Mad About The Mural

To prevent Pilsen from suffering complete neglect, residents renovated and rehabbed houses to make the community accessible for newly arrived immigrants from Mexico and Central America. Community members also formed programs to make food easily accessible for low income residents. As well as preserving the neighborhood’s historic housing stock, residents tried to preserve the neighborhood’s mixed use nature. They did this by trying to rekindle Pilsen’s industries and reviving the area’s commercial corridor through community centers and local businesses.

Nonetheless, city officials and private developers were constantly eyeing Pilsen. Just a 10 minute drive from downtown Chicago, the neighborhood was seen as a prime location for attracting white middle class people who worked in the city’s business district. The first attempt occurred in 1973 when Mayor Daley announced Chicago 21, a plan to turn the areas outside the business district into middle class communities. Most of the neighborhoods targeted were communities of color and were considered “slums” with low civic pride. Only through drastic changes could those areas be saved. For Pilsen, this meant its vacant manufacturing buildings to the east would be redeveloped into upscale apartments and shopping centers. The plan also called for a “Mexitown” that would attract tourists just like Chicago’s Chinatown. A survey put out to Pilsen’s residents found that many saw no need for such a designation. Others worried these plans were a secret code for pushing out brown people and replacing them with middle class whites.

Community members protesting Chicago 21; Image: WTTW

Fearing Pilsen’s residents would suffer the same fate as the construction of the University of Illinois, community leaders created a coalition with other affected communities called the Coalition of Central Area Communities (COCAC). The group had two demands: be represented on Chicago 21’s planning committee and have each affected neighborhood work with the committee to develop different plans. While the planning group did eventually agree to contract with each community and create an individualized plan, they didn’t agree to have representation within their organization. Even with the first concession, however, the group created conditions that eventually hurt the ability for community activists to effectively organize. They called for each neighborhood to raise $12,500 to hire a professional development agency to help complete the individual plans. Only East Humboldt Park and Pilsen were able to raise the funds. As a result, COCAC’s unity splintered, though they succeeded in making sure Plan 21 was never fully accomplished. This was a symbolic victory for Pilsen. It showed that residents wouldn’t be complacent in the face of pressure from private developers and city officials.

Pilsen’s residents continued to see success going into the ’80s as they prevented another developer from converting a former factory into high end apartment units and a performing arts center. Towards the end of the decade, though, residents started to lose ground. The resurgence of the city’s Democratic machine, which supported private development, and the election of a development friendly alderman made it harder for Pilsen’s leaders to get political support. This was further exacerbated by the development of a middle to upper income community just to Pilsen’s north and the redevelopment of a former produce market into condominium buildings to Pilsen’s east. These actions essentially invited white developers and gentrifiers to move into Pilsen during the 1990s and 2000s.

Today, more than ever, Pilsen faces an affordability and displacement crisis. A study by the Institute for Housing Studies at DePaul University showed central Pilsen to be under the highest risk for displacement. With low income residents being priced out and a large number of working class locals spending a significant portion of their income on housing, the study concluded displacement is actively occurring in Pilsen. As a result of the neighborhood becoming more expensive, Pilsen’s total Hispanic population dropped 26% between 2000–2010. A quick search on Zillow shows a house currently on sale for nearly $1 million. According to the website, the property’s value was between $480 and the mid $700,000 range from 2010–2018, but has steadily increased since May 2018.

This part of Pilsen is experiencing the highest rate of displacement; Image: Institute for Housing Studies, DePaul University

Developers have also shown little regard for Pilsen’s history. Casa Aztlan, a community center open to Pilsen’s residents for decades, played a central role within the neighborhood. The building’s facade was also well known for its ornate mural. As Robert Valadez, a longtime Pilsen resident said to a local news outlet, “It was the focal point of so much activity. Not just the murals and creative stuff but the food pantry, the clinic, the after-school programs. There were meetings about housing and immigration, any number of issues.” The center closed in 2013, however, and was bought by a private developer in 2017. Oblivious to the mural’s importance, they painted over it. After community backlash, the developer hired the original artist to remake it.

Casa Aztlan’s mural painted over by a developer in 2017; Image: WTTW
The same mural repainted; Image: Seth Anderson

All of these issues reinforce the concern that Pilsen’s identity is being erased. Fortunately community activists have been pushing back against the area’s gentrification. Pilsen Alliance, the most active organization opposing displacement, has called for a change in how affordability is defined. By focusing on Area Median Income (AMI), data is collected from the Chicago metro region, which includes five of the wealthiest counties in Illinois. Because of this, Pilsen’s AMI is a distortion of reality.

Others are concerned about single family homes being bought and sold, long considered a silent form of displacement. Guacolda Reyes, a member of a local nonprofit, explained this to Chicago’s WTTW: “We know that there are brokers here who are very aggressive, chasing some of the property owners saying, ‘This is a great time to sell. I can get you two million for the building.’ And when you’ve been holding onto a building for 15, 20 years and you haven’t really done a lot of investment in the building, you’re just collecting rents, and somebody comes to you and tells you ‘I can give you 2 million,’ what do you think you’re going to do?”

While the fight against displacement is far from over, Pilsen received some good news during the local 2019 elections when Pilsen Alliance’s executive director was elected alderman.

Gentrification is a loaded term that can often be misinterpreted. Yet what Pilsen is experiencing right now is the worst possible situation. Ignorant developers, most of which are white, exploit the area’s proximity to downtown Chicago for their benefit at the expense of Pilsen’s working class, which is predominantly Hispanic. There’s no question economic development is a good thing, but the real challenge is how to distribute it equitably and without significant disruption to the neighborhood’s fabric. The work ahead isn’t easy, but necessary to prevent further hardship.

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