In Montgomery – a city steeped in history and resilience – the scars of systemic injustice aren’t always found in museums or etched into monuments. Many lie in plain sight, embedded in the streets, neighborhoods, and vacant lots of West Montgomery.
Often overlooked in contemporary discussions of city development, the legacy of redlining has shaped West Montgomery’s persistent economic struggles, community displacement, and chronic lack of infrastructure investment for nearly a century.
In the 1930s, federal housing agencies like the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) created maps ranking neighborhoods by perceived investment risk. These designations, heavily based on racial demographics, labeled black communities as “hazardous,” cutting them off from mortgage access and essential banking services. That branding guaranteed one thing: investment flowed elsewhere.
While Montgomery’s redlining maps are not as readily accessible as those of larger cities, the discriminatory practices were just as real – and just as damaging.
Redlining robbed black families of the opportunity to build generational wealth through homeownership. It sent a message to both public officials and private developers that entire neighborhoods could be written off. Investment flowed east of Interstate 65, while the west side was left behind.
In the 1960s, the construction of Interstates 65 and 85 physically bisected the heart of black Montgomery. The highway routes displaced thousands of residents and businesses – 75% of whom were black – and further entrenched segregation under the guise of progress.
This pattern wasn’t unique to Montgomery. Across the country, federal highway construction was used as a tool to dismantle thriving black communities under the name of urban renewal. In our city, those interstates didn’t just move traffic – they erected permanent barriers between West Montgomery and the resources of downtown.
The ripple effects of redlining still shape life in West Montgomery.
Studies show that parks and public spaces in predominantly black areas remain underfunded and poorly maintained compared to wealthier, whiter parts of the city.
Promises of revitalization have come and gone for decades. And to be fair, some action has been taken – like the demolition of long-blighted structures and announcements of new streetscape projects. In 2024, the city even secured a federal grant aimed at improving transportation and economic development in underserved areas.
But promises alone won’t reopen long-shuttered schools. Promises don’t put grocery stores in food deserts. And promises don’t undo 80 years of willful disinvestment.
Residents of West Montgomery aren’t asking for handouts – they’re asking for fairness. For the same infrastructure, safety, and economic opportunity seen in other parts of the city.
Perhaps the most blatant sign of institutional neglect is the lack of access to basic utilities. Many residents in West Montgomery have lived for decades without public water or sewer service. Despite being well within city limits, large portions of the community still rely on aging septic tanks and contaminated wells.
This isn’t a new issue. Promises to resolve it date back to the 1970s. Yet every mayoral administration has failed to follow through. In some cases, residents were even billed for services they didn’t receive – insult added to injury.
City leaders cite “budget constraints,” but that explanation falls apart when newer developments in East Montgomery are swiftly connected to public utilities. Why do older communities – some of which have been around for generations – continue to be left behind?
Access to clean water and sanitation is not a luxury. It’s a basic human right. And the city’s failure to deliver it sends a clear message about whose needs matter.
When Montgomery Whitewater opened in 2023, it was billed as a game-changer. A $90 million investment positioned as the catalyst for job creation, tourism, and long-overdue revitalization in West Montgomery.
But residents are still waiting for that transformation.
Jobs generated by the project have largely been seasonal or low-wage. Promised economic spinoffs – new hotels, restaurants, and retail spaces – have either stalled or vanished entirely. Meanwhile, the neighborhoods just beyond the gates of the park remain starved for investment, access to healthcare, and infrastructure improvements.
If Montgomery Whitewater is truly a community asset, its success must be measured not in ticket sales, but in the lives it uplifts. So far, it feels less like a spark for the West Side and more like gentrification with a helmet.
To heal from redlining, Montgomery must do more than issue apologies or erect historic markers. The city must actively reverse the policies and patterns that continue to divide it.
This means:
- Prioritizing infrastructure investment west of I-65
- Offering real incentives for small businesses in neglected neighborhoods
- Creating affordable housing programs that prevent displacement
- Including all communities in transportation and broadband development
Redlining may no longer be legal. But its impact is alive and well. If we don’t act, we’re allowing injustice to persist under a different name.
It’s time to draw new lines – not of exclusion, but of opportunity. West Montgomery deserves more than promises. It deserves results.
Jason Davenport is a seasoned media professional with over two decades of experience in the fields of broadcasting, audio/video production, and media consulting. Based in Montgomery, Alabama, Jason is the owner of Pulse Media Montgomery, where he specializes in providing innovative solutions for clients, including podcasting, blogging, web design, and social media management.