OPINION: Black Neighborhoods Are Getting Hotter—Literally

Written By Diamond Spratling

Being Black in the summertime felt good. The barbecues, the cookouts, the music, the block parties, being outside almost every day grooving to the latest hits, proved the summer wasn’t just a season; it was a feeling.

Growing up on the west side of Detroit, summer felt magnificent. I could play outside all day with the other kids on the block from sunup to sundown. Sure, I’d come inside every few hours for a snack or a freeze pop to cool down, but for the most part, nothing could pull me away from being outside. Looking back, I realize those were some of the happiest moments of my childhood.

For many Black families, summer has always been about community. Sitting on the porch talking with neighbors, walking up the street to visit your grandma, tending to your garden, spending hours laughing with cousins until the streetlights came on. These weren’t just activities; they were how we stayed connected to one another. And during a time when it feels like almost everything is working to keep us divided, those spaces for connection matter now more than ever. But what happens when the very spaces that bring us together become too hot to enjoy?

For generations, Black communities have made life happen outside. Yet, because of decades of discriminatory policies like redlining, many of our neighborhoods were built differently—fewer trees, less shade, more asphalt, more concrete, and more highways. The result is what many people now call urban heat islands, communities that absorb and trap heat, making temperatures significantly higher than nearby neighborhoods.

And the problem is getting worse. In Atlanta, some neighborhoods can be more than 10 degrees hotter than communities located just a few miles away. The same parks, sidewalks, porches, bus stops, and gathering spaces that serve as the heartbeat of community life are becoming increasingly difficult and sometimes dangerous to use during the hottest days of the year.

This is about more than rising temperatures; it’s about what happens when climate change and decades of disinvestment begin to erode the spaces and traditions that hold communities together. It’s about the eldest lady in your neighborhood who can’t sit comfortably on her porch in the evening—the child whose playground is too hot to use. The family reunion forced indoors because the heat index is dangerously high. The neighbor who skips his daily walk because the temperatures feel unbearable.

Extreme heat is a serious public health issue. Heat exhaustion, heat stroke, dehydration, respiratory challenges, and increased stress all become more likely as temperatures rise. And our elders, young children, outdoor workers, and people with chronic illnesses are often the most vulnerable.

The disparities extend beyond heat alone. In Atlanta, there is almost a 25-year difference in life expectancy between residents of Bankhead and Buckhead. While many factors contribute to that gap, where you live continues to shape your health outcomes, your opportunities, and increasingly, your exposure to extreme heat. The reality is that climate change is not impacting every community equally. The neighborhoods that have historically experienced disinvestment are often the same neighborhoods now experiencing the greatest heat burden.

As cities develop climate solutions, we must ensure that Black communities are not left behind. More tree canopy, cooler public spaces, equitable infrastructure investments, and community-centered planning are not luxuries; they are necessities. 

Because everyone deserves a summer they can enjoy, everyone deserves to sit on their porch, gather with family, visit their neighbors, and enjoy the simple joys that make community possible. And no one should have to risk their health just to spend time outside in the neighborhood they call home.

I often think about the little girl who spent her summers running up and down the block, laughing with friends until the streetlights came on. The little girl who could spend hours outside and never once think about whether it was too hot to play. I want that for our children today, and for generations to come.

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