Climate Gentrification: The Hidden Costs of Disasters in Black Communities

As the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina approaches, environmental justice leaders, activists, and experts are taking a closer look at how climate change is reshaping American cities and deepening racial and economic inequities.

This week, Black and working-class neighborhoods on the South, West, and Southwest sides of Chicago were hit hardest when torrential rains flooded basements, damaged schools, and overwhelmed fragile infrastructure. The rapid rainfall overwhelmed the city’s aging sewer system, transforming streets into ponds and leaving vehicles stranded beneath viaducts.

The city logged more than 6,000 calls to 311 for water damage as residents in long-neglected neighborhoods worked to salvage belongings. Touring the devastation, Mayor Brandon Johnson said the flooding disproportionately struck working-class communities of color, citing aging sewers and climate change as key factors before requesting relief from county, state, and federal governments. During a Tuesday news conference he said, “We don’t want people to panic every time it rains.

“Of all the things that could be triggering as an elected official, you never think that rain will be one of those triggers,” said Johnson.

“It’s like a nightmare,”  Gage Park resident Sharen Parish told WGN News. “I walked downstairs, and the water was past my knee, which is something that’s never happened since I‘ve been living there since 2001.”

Chicago’s combined sewer system is designed to handle only a “five-year storm,” according to the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago. Larger storms routinely overwhelm the system, pushing water into streets and basements. A 2020 Fed review found that more than 90 percent of flood damage claims between 2007 and 2014 came from properties outside FEMA’s 100-year floodplain, underscoring the gap between mapped risk and actual flooding.

Flood damage in Chicago between 2007 and 2016 was primarily concentrated in predominantly African American or Hispanic neighborhoods on the South, West, and Southwest sides, accounting for 72 percent of claims during that period. Areas such as Englewood, West Englewood, Chatham, and Back of the Yards, though not located near rivers or lakes, experience frequent flooding due to factors including inadequate drainage systems, low-lying topography, and aging infrastructure associated with historical patterns of disinvestment.

The costs are adding up. In the hardest hit ZIP codes, residents filed tens of millions of dollars in claims over that nine-year period, according to the Fed. In Chatham, a historically Black middle-class neighborhood built atop a former swamp known as “Hog’s Swamp,” heavy rains can send sewage knee-deep into basements. Families wade through foul water and swarms of sewer flies, then spend thousands on cleanup and repairs, often with little help from insurance.

While officials have not released estimates for this week’s storm, a similar one in July 2023 caused more than $500 million in damage and flooded 70,000 basements across the metro area.

“Chicago faces far greater flood risk than most parts of the country outside of the Gulf Coast, but FEMA flood maps do not fully capture these risks,” wrote Andy Polacek. “Chicago has undertaken ambitious gray infrastructure projects, such as the Deep Tunnel, which should alleviate some flooding issues, but more work needs to be done in developing green infrastructure to keep stormwater out of the sewer system to begin with. For individual homeowners, rain barrels and native gardens may help to reduce stormwater runoff, and flood insurance can be used to limit the financial loss from flooding.”

In nearby Gary, Indiana, an economically distressed majority-Black city, heavy rains in recent years have similarly overwhelmed sewers and disrupted the lives of homeowners, renters, and others. In addition to the flash flooding caused by this week’s storms, the city has also been impacted by tornadoes that has displaced hundreds of residents.

The Rising Threat of Climate Gentrification

Scientists warn that the risk is likely to grow. Climate models project heavier and more frequent downpours in the Great Lakes region in the coming decades, adding further strain to infrastructure already ill-equipped for today’s storms. The consequences for impacted individuals include economic hardship, increased insurance rates, and the possible loss of rental housing or their homes.

Flooded homes expose residents to mold, bacteria, and toxic chemicals, while walking through contaminated water carries risks of infection, skin irritation, and long-term respiratory problems. Sudden property damage or loss can contribute to increased stress and risks to an individual’s psychological and emotional health.

A recent assessment in Milwaukee found similar inequities, with about 39 percent of the city’s population living in neighborhoods with either high flood exposure, high social vulnerability, or both. Black residents are disproportionately concentrated in these flood “hotspots.” In Metcalfe Park, a historically redlined community where nearly 98 percent of residents are people of color, aging sewers and vast stretches of broken pavement contribute to frequent flash floods in the midst of climate change.

In January 2025, the Eaton Canyon wildfire tore through Altadena, a historic African American enclave near Los Angeles, reducing thousands of structures to ash and wiping out nearly half of the community’s Black-owned homes. UCLA research shows that 61 percent of Black households in Altadena were within the fire’s path compared to 50 percent of non-Black households. And nearly 48 percent of Black households were destroyed or severely damaged, versus 37 percent of non-Black ones.

Even before families could begin sifting through the rubble, developers circled like vultures, pressuring residents to sell off land scarred by fire. Altadena’s proud legacy of Black homeownership now faces a new threat, dubbed as “climate gentrification” by activists, as survivors fight to hold their ground under the rallying cry, “Altadena is not for sale.” The average price per acre for land in the unincorporated area hovers between $1.4 million and $3.5 million, depending on various online listing sources.

In late August 2022, Jackson, Mississippi, descended into crisis when extreme rainfall swelled the Pearl River and flooded the city’s main treatment facility, the O.B. Curtis Water Plant, knocking out operations in a system already weakened by decades of underfunding, deferred maintenance, and staff shortages. The failure left 150,000 residents, about 80 percent of whom are Black, without safe drinking water, unable to bathe, flush toilets, or even fight fires.

Hospitals and schools struggled to function as Jackson residents endured long lines at bottled water distribution sites and faced heightened health risks from bacteria, parasites, and chemicals in untreated water. The most severe phase lasted nearly seven weeks, from late August until mid-October 2022, when water pressure was finally restored, though boil-water notices continued afterward and after federal authorities stepped in to oversee long-term repairs under a court-ordered agreement.

The repeated devastation underscores how Black and working-class families bear the brunt of extreme weather, even as Chicago grapples with outdated infrastructure and the mounting pressures of a warming climate.

There is no question that climate and environmental changes are reshaping Chicago’s neighborhoods, where repeated floods expose racial and economic divides and fuel what experts call climate gentrification.

Climate gentrification, coined by Professor Jesse Keenan, describes the process in which wealthier residents and developers seek out higher ground by moving into areas perceived as less vulnerable to climate risks, while longtime residents of historically Black or immigrant neighborhoods bear the brunt of flooding and displacement due to aged infrastructure, redlining and disinvestment by their local governments.

Nationally, disasters widen the racial wealth gap; one study finds whites in places with $10 billion in damages gained $126,000 in wealth while Black residents lost $27,000, on average, according to a 2019 report tracking such impacts.

A WADE IN review of additional flood data and environmental research shows that climate risks are increasingly reshaping real estate markets in U.S. cities with large African American populations. A number of experts were sought for comment for this report but did not respond by the newspaper’s deadline.

Chicago’s South Side, parts of New Orleans, low-lying neighborhoods in Houston, hillside communities in Los Angeles, and Rust Belt cities such as Milwaukee, Cleveland, and Gary have all seen property values shift in response to flooding and climate projections.

East Coast activists began sounding the alarm in 2012, citing “gentrification by water” in parts of New York and New Jersey hit by Hurricane Sandy. Hurricane Harvey wrought widespread devastation across Houston in 2017, destroying or damaging nearly 2,000 Section 8 and public housing units at a cost of more than $25 million, according to the Natural Resources Defense Council. Low-income residents and communities of color bore the brunt of the impact, deepening existing housing and economic inequities.

Grassroots activists and local groups have also flagged troubling disparities in recovery efforts. Who gets assistance, what type and when they get it has increasingly become an issue.

On May 16, 2025, an EF-3 tornado with winds up to 152 mph tore through northern St. Louis and nearby areas, carving a 22-mile path nearly a mile wide. The storm left five people dead, 38 injured, and damaged more than 5,000 structures, including homes, businesses, churches, schools, and apartments in the predominantly Black northern part of the city.

Insurance gaps magnified the St. Louis disaster. On some blocks, as many as 70 percent of homeowners were uninsured, and one ZIP code reported 90 percent of renters and 67 percent of homeowners without coverage. Damage has been estimated between $1.5 billion and $2 billion and will spawn a massive public works project that may take years.

Local leader Makal Ali, president of the Advancing American Business & Contractors Association (AABCA), said recovery and rebuilding efforts have not only been slow, but have been hampered by St. Louis Mayor Cara Spencer’s decision to terminate the city’s Minority- and Women-Owned Business (M/WBE) programs.

“That tornado devastated the Black community and the possibility of St. Louis remaining home to many of those who were the hardest hit is next to none, if we don’t get genuine financial support to rebuild,” Ali said. “While AABCA was working to get people stabilized and back in their homes, another disaster hit when (the mayor) suspended minority participation just because she thought the Trump Administration would withhold FEMA funds.

“This was highly insensitive because not only does it slow down our rebuilding efforts, but it also hurts Black businesses, Black contractors, and the Black workers who are trying to rebuild their own neighborhoods using our own tax dollars,” the St. Louis activist continued. “Even if FEMA doesn’t come through, at least our people would be working while they are trying to recover what they lost.”

In a public letter to residents, Spencer stated that federal agencies indicated they may terminate or claw back grant funds from local governments with diversity, equity, and inclusion programs. However, neither the City of St. Louis nor its development corporation had been contacted by FEMA or the Trump administration prior to the M/WBE suspension, according to Ali.

In Miami, where wind damage and flooding are common during hurricane season, wealthy developers have sought the “higher ground” of the Atlantic Coastal Ridge. The area runs smack through “Little Haiti,” a historically Black and immigrant neighborhood settled in the 1960s as “Lemon City,” before becoming a distinct cultural destination a decade later.

Developers now market the area as “climate resilient.” The proposed Magic City Innovation District, pitched as “a safe bet in an era of climate change,” calls for 2,500 luxury condos and retail space, according to project planners. Per the Yale School of the Environment, critics warn that rising land values could displace Little Haiti’s working-class Haitian immigrant residents, who have a median household income of $39,000 and are mostly renters already burdened by high housing costs.

Marleine Bastien, a long-time Little Haiti resident who leads the Family Action Network Movement, has been leading the community in its fight to remain. “Every week I see [investors] asking homeowners, ‘When are you going to sell? When are you going to move?’” Bastien reportedly said.

In New Orleans, a 2020 study by researchers K.T. Aune, Dean Gesch, and Gordon Smith found that “gentrification was strongly associated with higher ground elevation.” The analysis showed that neighborhoods eligible for gentrification in 2000 were 80.2 percent Black but, by 2015, had become “significantly whiter, more educated, higher income, less unemployed” than before.

The findings highlight how communities on slightly higher ground attracted new investment soon after Hurricane Katrina, while many lower-lying  disproportionately Black and poor neighborhoods were left behind.

Katrina made landfall on Aug. 29, 2005, slamming into the Gulf Coast as one of the deadliest storms in U.S. history. The hurricane and levee failures submerged 80 percent of New Orleans, killing more than 1,800 people, injuring thousands more, and displacing an estimated 1 million residents. More than 300,000 homes were destroyed or left uninhabitable, with the heaviest toll felt by Black neighborhoods in the Lower Ninth Ward and other low-lying areas.

The disaster, which revealed deep inequities in disaster preparedness and recovery, played out like a horror film in real time on television screens across the world. Images of bodies floating in floodwaters, families screaming for help, and residents stranded on rooftops waving makeshift flags while boats, cruise ships and military helicopters ignored their pleas exposed the true scale of Black human suffering. President George W. Bush was widely criticized after flying over the city in a helicopter to survey the destruction, a moment many saw as emblematic of federal indifference.

The then-New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin was so fed up with the Louisiana and  federal government’s slow responses he declared on WWL-AM radio, “Now get off your asses and let’s do something, and let’s fix the biggest goddamn crisis in the history of this country.”

U.S. citizens were called “refugees,” and this reporter (at the time working for state government) aided survivors shipped to Chicago as part of a national “relocation plan.” One group included three children between the ages of two and four who had been placed on an airplane by persons unknown and sent to the city without their parents or guardians. “We don’t know who those kids are,” one man said, as he stumbled off a bus to head into the House of Hope, which had been set up as a triage center.

The children, traumatized, soiled, and hungry, were turned over to the custody of the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services. It remains a tragic and haunting memory.

In the Katrina aftermath, many residents learned too late that standard homeowner policies excluded flood damage, leaving them with little recourse. Years of lawsuits and federal debates over the National Flood Insurance Program highlighted how the insurance industry was unprepared, and in many cases unwilling,  to shoulder the burden of climate-driven catastrophes.

Two decades later, some neighborhoods, especially those on higher ground, were rebuilt and gentrified, attracting new investment and residents. But many lower-lying, predominantly Black communities remain scarred by vacancy, blight, and population decline. Roughly 100,000 fewer people live in New Orleans today compared to before the storm, underscoring Katrina’s enduring toll on families and the city’s social fabric.

Noted scholars and disaster experts argue that there truly is no such thing as a “natural disaster.” What we call disasters result from natural hazards interacting with human-made conditions like poverty, poor infrastructure, and policy failures. In 2021, the United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction (U chimed in and urged journalists to avoid using the term “natural disaster” in reporting.

“Disasters are not natural…,” said UN official Kevin Blanchard. “The decisions that we take as humans are what turn a hazard into a disaster.”

After taking office in 2025, President Donald Trump cut about a third of FEMA’s staff, dissolved preparedness programs, and shifted disaster planning to state governments and local municipalities. Emergency managers criticize these moves, saying reduced federal capacity weakens disaster readiness, especially as climate-related catastrophes increase and vulnerable communities face greater challenges to recovery.

Stephanie Gadlin is an investigative and data journalist specializing in historical analysis, health, social justice, environmental issues, and economic justice. For confidential tips, please contact: [email protected]. This report is funded by Integrity Media and the Chicago Crusader Newspaper.