Research
Extended Abstract for General Readers
What’s Happening to Hillcrest? Redevelopment, Queer Community, and the Fight for Space
Simon W. Griffith | May 2025
Hillcrest has long been known as San Diego’s gayborhood—a vibrant hub for LGBTQ+ life, culture, and nightlife. But over the past several years, the neighborhood has been changing fast. If you’ve walked along University Avenue or driven past the new high-rise condos popping up around the edges of the community, you’ve probably felt it too: something is shifting. The question I set out to explore in this project was simple but layered: What happens to a queer neighborhood when it’s redeveloped?
My research focuses on Hillcrest not just as a location, but as a historically significant space where queer people have built lives, found safety, formed community, and fought for visibility. But like many LGBTQ+ neighborhoods across the U.S., Hillcrest is now facing a wave of redevelopment that raises serious questions about who the neighborhood is for—and what might be lost in the process.
A Neighborhood in Transition
Today’s redevelopment in Hillcrest is being driven by a mix of city-led planning efforts, private investment, and what urban theorists often call “neoliberal” approaches to urban growth. That means more luxury housing, increased density, and an emphasis on attracting tourists and wealthy newcomers. On paper, this might sound like progress: more housing, more vibrancy, more economic development. But for many longtime residents and community members, these changes don’t feel like improvements—they feel like erasure.
As part of this study, I conducted in-depth interviews with eleven people connected to Hillcrest, including current and former residents, business owners, activists, and those who simply spend time in the neighborhood. Their experiences revealed a range of emotional, political, and cultural reactions to the transformation of Hillcrest.
Some mourn the closures of iconic bars, cafés, and gathering spaces that once served as vital hubs for queer connection. Others feel a growing disconnect between the sanitized image of Hillcrest being marketed to outsiders and the messy, grassroots, proudly queer community they remember. And many raised concerns that the redevelopment isn’t just about buildings—it’s about reshaping the identity of the neighborhood itself.
Symbolic Displacement
What’s happening in Hillcrest can be described as gentrification, but with a twist. Unlike some neighborhoods where long-time residents are physically displaced, Hillcrest’s transformation is often more subtle. Many LGBTQ+ folks still live nearby or spend time in the area, but the character of the neighborhood is changing in ways that make them feel out of place in what used to be their space.
This is what scholars sometimes call symbolic displacement. It’s not just about being priced out of housing—though that’s a major concern. It’s also about feeling like the neighborhood no longer reflects or welcomes you. When rainbow crosswalks and Pride flags become branding tools for developers rather than signs of community resistance and care, it raises the question: who gets to define what “queer space” means?
Several of my interviewees pointed out that Hillcrest is now often framed as a “cosmopolitan” district rather than a queer one. With new condo complexes, rooftop lounges, and boutique fitness studios moving in, there’s a real concern that LGBTQ+ history is being paved over by a version of urban chic that sells diversity without the discomfort of actual queer politics, lives, or struggle.
Space, Memory, and the Politics of Belonging
For queer communities, space is never just about geography—it’s about memory, identity, and survival. Queer neighborhoods like Hillcrest have historically provided sanctuary in a hostile world. They’ve been places where people could experiment with self-expression, find chosen family, and organize for rights and recognition. When these spaces are altered or lost, it’s not just an inconvenience—it can feel like a personal and collective loss.
The people I spoke with described a sense of grief over the neighborhood’s changing landscape. Some feared that new residents and developers didn’t know—or didn’t care—about Hillcrest’s radical and resistance-based past. Others worried that the drive for profits was pushing out businesses and organizations that had long served the LGBTQ+ community, replacing them with establishments that cater to wealthier, often straighter, customers.
What’s especially heartbreaking is that this transformation is often sold as being “inclusive” or “diverse.” In practice, though, inclusion can mean the flattening of difference—replacing the particularities of queer culture with a more palatable, consumer-friendly version. In the process, what made Hillcrest special risks being lost.
What We Lose When We “Clean Up” Queer Spaces
One recurring theme that came up in my interviews was the tension between safety and sanitization. Some city leaders and local organizations have framed the redevelopment of Hillcrest as a way to “clean up” the neighborhood—reducing visible homelessness, updating infrastructure, and making it more appealing for tourists and new residents. But that framing can carry dangerous implications.
The presence of unhoused people, queer youth, and others on the margins has always been part of urban life, especially in queer neighborhoods that function as safety nets. When redevelopment efforts focus on tidiness and marketability, they often do so at the expense of those most in need of public space. Several participants described feeling uncomfortable with the way safety was being redefined—not as collective care or mutual aid, but as the removal of people and behaviors that don’t fit the new image of Hillcrest.
This highlights a broader issue: redevelopment is never neutral. The decisions about what to build, who to welcome, and what histories to honor are all political. They reflect values and priorities—and right now, those priorities seem to favor capital over community.
The Need for Community-Centered Planning
So, what’s the alternative? My research doesn’t offer easy answers, but it does point to some important starting places. First, we need to listen to the people who have called Hillcrest home—not just property owners or developers, but renters, workers, activists, and artists. Second, redevelopment needs to be grounded in historical preservation, affordability, and community input, rather than only in profit and aesthetics.
Most of all, we need to remember that queer space isn’t just about rainbow logos or Pride Month window displays. It’s about creating environments where LGBTQ+ people can live openly, connect meaningfully, and shape the world around them. As Hillcrest continues to change, we have a chance to ask: how do we protect that spirit? How do we build cities that honor our histories and hold space for our futures?
Additional research interests
Sociology of collapse
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Alienation and estrangement
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Loneliness and isolation
- Social implications of climate systems deterioration
Urban planning, housing, homelessness, cities
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The microsocial impacts of urban planning and development of meaningful housing and rehabilitation programs
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Understanding issues of addiction, relationships, and housing through the perspectives of the affected persons rather than from academic, legal, or political ones
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Community research and engagement that demonstrates the core issues and proposes solutions that work
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Understanding how city governments who focus on community advancement rather than individual gain have transformed their communities
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Criminalization of homelessness
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The carerality of poverty - Predictive policing in minoritized communities
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Accessibility
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Promoting dignity through spatial development
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Modes of transit that are safe for those using mobility devices, or simply traveling on foot.
- Mental and physical health outcomes to creating more inclusive and secure pedestrian and public transit travel
Queer sociology
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Anti-trans legislation
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Colonial/modern gender system
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The consequences of the collective forgetting of cultural histories (This actually reaches far beyond queer issues)
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The meanings of place (the gay bar)
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Obsolescence of existing cultural and social waypoints; Replacement of them with technology. Impact on psychological health and social skills. Furthermore, the impact on physical health (increasing STD rates).
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The absence of the sign posts of queer personal growth for future generations
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Racism, sexism, and transphobia in LGBTQ+ communities: Intersectional experiences; “No fats, femmes, blacks, or asians”
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Commercialization of pride
- Cops & corps at Pride
Capitalism, corporations, and government
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How the benefit of private interests intersects with everything on this list
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The protection of private capital before the rights of citizens and communities
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How is this playing out right here in central San Diego?
- Privatization and nationalism