Dr. LaSheyla Jones, a grassroot urban planner, architectural designer, and public policy advocate specializing in implementing holistic approaches to address socially disorganized communities. She is a Public Voice Fellow through the OpEd Project.
As the White House, under the Biden-Harris Administration, touts an economic and infrastructure plan for Black Communities, many residents have found themselves marginalized by city highway designs that perpetuate inequality and hinder their quality of life. Communities are being redesigned without consideration of specific needs and values of disadvantaged individuals, perpetuating a cycle of city designs that disregards the concerns and aspirations of those whose circumstances often go unheard. This pattern leaves vulnerable populations wondering (to quote Michael Jackson’s lyrics in “Earth Song”), “What about us?”
For example, my hometown of Dallas is now ranked among the least affordable cities for homebuyers, with rising housing costs relative to average income making homeownership unattainable for many in the southern sector of the city. Individuals with average income have to allocate 41.48 percent of their monthly earnings to housing expenses for a median priced home, highlighting the disparity between housing prices and stagnant wages that perpetuates the wealth gap. One complaint is the policy’s emphasis on multi-family rental development over affordable single-family homes.
Oak Cliff, one of the largest neighborhoods located in Southern Dallas and often intermingled with areas identified as minority dominant and economically underprivileged, has once again become prime real estate for those looking to capitalize during an era of extensive gentrification. The extensive history of Oak Cliff communities, dominated by people of color, have experienced population displacement by way of white flight, steering, and redlining in which Dallas Segregation Ordinances effectively created segregated areas that are still clearly divided to this day.
Decades later, decisions for disadvantaged communities prioritize the desires of the economically and politically powerful rather than addressing the needs of those affected by government misinformation and propaganda. Many of these minority (specifically Black) communities, once home to residents that had accomplished home ownership and economic stability have been subjected to heavy eminent domain proceedings by local government to support freeway infrastructures and public facilities at the detriment of local inhabitants. In essence, communities of color in these areas are under structural, economic, and political attack and have been targeted by developers and government entities, while being unprotected by government policies.
Residents in communities like this face restricted access to affordable assets that enable wealth accumulation, such as homes, due to policies that do not hold responsible entities accountable. A lack of economic resources like banks in areas, such as communities South of Interstate 30, has created significant obstacles, as decision makers implement policies that label certain communities “high risk” and thereby deny them access to vital resources.
As Kathryn Holliday, PhD notes, “Highway development proceeded in parallel with housing policies created by the Federal Housing Administration to undermine economic viability of minority neighborhoods.” These systemic issues create bottlenecks and impede residents’ ability to thrive and prosper.
The misconception is that minority communities should appreciate government interventions for revitalization without considering the evidence of resident displacement and lack of input from those affected.
In contrast, revitalization efforts in wealthier and non-minority communities are approached as collaborative partnerships that consider the input of all stakeholders. This inclusive approach supports sustainable development that aligns with residents aspirations.
The Biden administration’s efforts to address systemic disparities in minority communities are commendable. However, it is crucial to recognize that investing in economic development and infrastructure without considering the true needs of residents and community members can be seen as irresponsible. Job creation is vital, but should empower disenfranchised communities to cultivate additional job prospects within minority communities.
U.S. government history demonstrates the significance of economic power. It is essential to adopt a holistic approach to urban development that encompasses people, structures, economics, transportation, and policy. Offering merely financial aid and constructing buildings will not suffice. We must strive for an inclusive approach that addresses the comprehensive needs of communities and ensures that the question, “What about us? ” is intricately considered and answered.












Demonstrators rally outside the U.S. Supreme Court as justices hear oral arguments on whether President Donald Trump can deny citizenship to children born to parents who are in the United States illegally or temporarily, on Capitol Hill, in Washington, Wednesday, April 1, 2026. (AP Photo/Mariam Zuhaib)
Luz Angela Nuñez with her daughter Aisha Quershi Nuñez at their home in College Point, Queens. Photo: Mia Anzalone for Documented.
Kimberly Alvarez, 25, with her daughter Evangeline and her husband John Alvarez in Medellin, Colombia. Photo courtesy of Kimberly Alvarez.Alvarez arrived in New York City in February 2024 with her husband John Alvarez as asylum seekers from Venezuela. In April 2025, Alvarez found out she was pregnant with her first child, a baby girl. Her first reaction, she said, was fear.“How am I going to keep her alive?” she said. “That’s what I was thinking. ‘How am I going to be able to take care of her?’”At the beginning of Alvarez’s pregnancy, she said she was aware of the immigration enforcement occurring around the country, but vowed not to let it deter her from showing up to her doctor’s appointments.“When you went out, you were always on alert because you didn’t know if [ICE] might be around. I never saw anything suspicious,” Alvarez said. “But of course, you feel scared.”In October, when Alvarez was six months pregnant, her husband was detained by ICE agents at 26 Federal Plaza. When the immediate shock wore off, she obsessively checked the Online Detainee Locator System to find out where her husband went. A day later, she discovered that he was being kept at Delaney Hall detention center in New Jersey. Alvarez quickly set up an account to pay for phone calls, and every two days, she would pay about $10 for a one-hour call, updating her husband about the baby, her appointments and how she was doing.“Crying was the only way for me to release the tension,” said Alvarez, who worried that her lack of sleep and bad diet were impacting her baby. “Crying was the only way for me to release the tension.”—Kimberly AlvarezThat tension built up day by day, week by week following her husband’s arrest. Alvarez had stopped her work as a cleaner in the neighborhood’s synagogues two weeks before her husband’s detention because of her pregnancy. The plan, she said, was to rely solely on his income as a maintenance worker for “the food, the rent, everything.” Left with few choices, Kimberley had to rely on her mother’s income as a cleaner. The older woman had moved to New York from North Carolina to assist with Alvarez’s pregnancy. “I feel like I’m supposed to help my mom, not the other way around,” Alvarez said. “I felt powerless because I couldn’t do anything.”On Dec. 9, Alvarez gave birth to a daughter, Evangeline. While her baby was healthy, Alvarez’s anxieties did not go away. While she returned to cleaning synagogues a few months after Evangeline’s birth to help make ends meet, Alvarez and her daughter rarely left home. Alvarez said she felt paralyzed, getting frequent alerts from a neighborhood WhatsApp group when ICE was spotted nearby. One day, she said, ICE arrested her friend’s husband in Sunset Park, in an area where she would sometimes take Evangeline for walks.“I’m so afraid that I’ll go out and run into one of them and that they’ll take her away from me,” Alvarez said. “That’s my biggest fear, that someone will take her away from me and I won’t know where my daughter is.”In March, her husband decided to voluntarily remove himself from the United States and move back to Colombia, where he is originally from. It was a family decision, but it was not a happy one — hiring immigration lawyers was too expensive, Alvarez said, adding that staying in the U.S. felt too uncertain. 







