A gentrifiers confession from bustling La Paternal

Since moving to Buenos Aires three years ago, I have made a point of getting to know her different neighborhoods. Of little interest to me were the typical expat favorites — Recoleta, San Telmo, Palermo, and Colegiales. I wound up calling Buenos Aires home because I was captivated by her energy and charm. Seeing as she made me change course in life, I obviously wanted to immerse myself among porteños.  It wasn’t until my third year, though, that I summoned the courage to rent southwest of the Chacarita cemetery in La Paternal, a neighborhood even fewer expats or transplants call home — for now?  I discovered that the neighborhood got its name in 1904 from a paternalistic gesture: the “La Paternal” Insurance Company owned land there and built workers’ housing on it. The formerly named Chacarita train station in the neighborhood was also renamed to La Paternal at the time.  A quick stroll through La Paternal leaves little doubt: it is a working-class neighborhood. Home to the folks behind the scenes making Buenos Aires function. Warehouses storing construction materials, auto parts, fire extinguishers, and textiles dot the area. Metalsmiths can be seen hard at work, the smell of solder hanging in the air. La Paternal is also unique in that many of its residents live above or next to their workplaces, and they like to grill their meat on parrillas they set up on the sidewalks.  While deep-rooted social bonds are in plain sight, outsiders feel welcomed everywhere. Be it through the biannual open doors art galleries’ cultural exchanges, the weekly crochet get-togethers on the sidewalk — outside the house of a carpenter who gave me a tour of the community garden in her home — or the bars hosting open-mic nights.  Not only was I relieved to learn that my fears about potential safety issues were unwarranted, but I also discovered a neighborhood bursting with personality. Unlike in the areas closest to the River Plate, shop owners in La Paternal were not asking me, “Why would you want to live here?” or “Are you sure you want to live here?” followed by cynical comments about Argentina being a failed and hopeless country.  In La Paternal, Argentinian pride is abundant. “Mi barrio, mi escuela, mis sueños” (“My neighborhood, my school, my dreams”) reads one garage painted by local muralists. Everywhere you turn, there is a “Las Malvinas son argentinas” (“The Malvinas are Argentine”) graffiti or some form of street tribute to Diego Maradona, who started his career on the neighborhood’s football team, Argentinos Juniors.  The tentacles of gentrification  On the downside, the trucks servicing the warehouses and the heavily congested Av. San Martín, running through the neighborhood, create noise pollution. Also, there are parts of the neighborhood where you do not need to walk far at night to see the city’s drinking and drug problem in plain sight. As is the eventual fate of most Buenos Aires neighborhoods, La Paternal has been undergoing transformation for some time. It was surprisingly easy to find an organic vegetable store, run by an owner keen on sustainable agriculture — as opposed to your typical Bolivian-run verdulería. It was also easy to find a comfortable, hip, new coffee shop to sit in and work, frequented by younger folks sporting the latest fashion trends.  La Paternal, I realized, was yet another Buenos Aires neighborhood falling prey to the tentacles of gentrification. My being comfortable and finding what I need meant potential discomfort as long-time residents watch their neighborhood transform. Nostalgia is a major part of the Argentine cultural identity. And so the inevitable transformation likely creates discomfort on a deeper level — as well as uncertainty about their future. Over time, long-term residents in La Paternal may find themselves displaced. While homeowners may gain a windfall with home values rising, others may end up being forced to move when they can’t pay the synonymous rising property taxes. Renters may also be displaced as a consequence of President Milei’s 2023 derogation of the renters’ law, which offered tenants some protections against rent increases and evictions. Opposition to high-rise construction also results in less residential supply, further pushing up the value of the limited existing homes.  Meanwhile, getting around the city is also increasingly difficult, with buses running less frequently and the few ones that do so being overcrowded. So, will Buenos Aires — and La Paternal — wind up being a place solely for the rich? What will happen to the less privileged ones? Do we just go on pretending they don’t exist? What are the long-term external consequences of social inequality and classism? Increased crime and the erosion of democracy, to name a few?  The question La Paternal leaves me with isn’t whether I belong here. It’s whether the long-time residents of the neighborhood will be allowed to stay. And if they can’t, whether the neighborhood I fell for will still exist.