Featured Finds

"U ON ARKET"

By Amanda Muscente

Located just 10 minutes away from the NoMa-Galludet metro stop, Union Market’s bright white building shines like an oasis of millennial heaven. Opened in 2017, the Union Market building and surrounding area houses various businesses and small shops that have become quite popular with D.C. transplants and tourists alike. After crossing underneath the train tracks, a visitor is immediately greeted by a Trader Joe’s, an Orange Theory, and a high end barber shop, all on the bottom floor of luxury condominiums advertising available apartments to lease. 

As I turn down 4thStreet, the difference between the left and right can only be described as jarring. Everything, even down to the road’s pavement, is split into two: old and new. On the left sits a LuluLemon outlet, a minimalist coffee shop, and a store that sells baby clothes and toys entirely in neutrals and grays. Parked on the street are BMWs and shiny white vespas. On the right is a row of much shorter buildings with worn awnings and billboards advertising wholesale businesses. Most of them are gated shut, the metal pulled down and locked, as if the stores themselves are trying to keep the world across the street at bay. The only store open is Mexican Fruits and Vegetables, which sells produce comparably cheaper to the Trader Joe's catty-corner to it. On the top of this strip lays huge metal letters which spell “U  ON  ARKET.”

The clientele on each side of the street seem divided as well. On the left side, white men and women, primarily in their 20s or 30s, walk their dogs or even push strollers down the sidewalk. Most of them wear athleisure or what looks like the Land’s End catalog. They all turn their heads towards the stores on their side of the street, almost pointedly looking away from the right side. If they don’t see it, it isn’t something they have to think about. 

The right side is far more deserted, but the few people that walk down are mainly men and women of color approaching their 40s. They bustle in and out of Mexican Fruits and Vegetables, asking about the price of the onions outside or whether they have any more cilantro. “Oye, ¿por qué los tomates son tan caros?” Hey, why are the tomatoes so expensive? The customers negotiate the prices of the week until they leave satisfied and with a bag full of veggies. This area, formerly known as the Florida Avenue Market, was dominated by wholesalers of food and clothing throughout the 20th century. Many local restaurants and stores in D.C. relied on these shops for cheap but good-quality food and clothing products. However, now many of these businesses are having to close their doors due to the rising rent in the area, which could have a domino effect on locally owned restaurants that cannot afford to buy from more expensive suppliers. Since these businesses are also minority owned, this effectively pushes the black and brown communities out of their homes. 

Finally, I turn onto Neal Street and see the large warehouse-type building that houses the modernized Union Market. Union Market is composed of three floors. The first floor has an outdoor seating area filled with lawn chairs and picnic tables, some fake grass, and an outdoor bar truck. This area is mainly filled with families and younger people, with the occasional middle-aged couple. Inside the first floor of the building sit all the food vendors. Union Market sells all types of food including Korean taco fusion, deli meats, a fish market, Italian, and British cuisines, to name a few. The tiny food stalls are crammed together and it sometimes becomes hard to walk, especially near the more popular vendors like The Creamery, one of the few places to get dessert. Walking around inside is overwhelming, and it takes a while to decide where to order from. I settle on Bun’d Up, a fried chicken and burger stand. The chicken is alright; if someone had me do a blind taste test between this sandwich and one from KFC, I would not be able to tell the difference (kudos to them for figuring out the 11 secret herbs and spices). My wallet would, however, as the sandwich, cheese fries, and a soda cost me over $20. I think of Wendy's down the street that sells similar food for a lot cheaper, to a lower income group of people. This price difference actively excludes those groups of people that live in the area. 

The stairs that lead to the upper levels have encouraging messages written on the fronts, so even the stairwell becomes a photo-op. The second floor embodies the rustic but still aesthetically pleasing vibes that Union tries to give off. While usually reserved for extra seating or art installations, it is empty and blocked off this weekend. The huge space goes fully unutilized for some unknown reason this weekend, which makes finding seating harder. 

The third floor, known as the Hi-Lawn, is another outdoor space with a large area of fake grass, another outdoor bar (this floor requires an ID check before entering; anyone under 21 is admitted without a wristband that would allow them to buy alcohol), some tables, and lots of loud music. The playlist includes a variety of artists within the pop genre including Kasey Musgraves, Sean Kingston, and Soulja Boy, which makes me feel like a stubborn middle school DJ was hired for the job. Golden hour, also known as photoshoot hour, appears around 6:15 and everyone whips out their phones to take smiling selfies in the flattering light.

The guests are excited to be outside again. “COVID’s loosening a little bit,” Abigail Steward, a journalism graduate from Maryland, explains. “It’s nice to have an outdoor space. It’s just great for summer right now. It’s nice to enjoy the nice weather when we can and when it’s safe.” She sits with her friends on a far corner in the lawn, enjoying a few drinks before their dinner reservations. The three acknowledge that Union Market was new and exciting to people their age—millennials that is—who grew up in a metro area where a space like this doesn’t normally exist. They travel 30 minutes about once or twice a week to drink or eat on the Hi-Lawn. 

On the left of the lawn are metal letters, almost identical to the ones I saw over the wholesalers on 4th Street, but this time they fully spell out “UNION MARKET.” The backwards letters create a barrier, making the large outdoor space feel small and intimate. On this side of the words I am in another universe, totally isolated from the community surrounding the building.

Jennifer Nelson sits with her friends, one also from D.C., specifically Capitol Hill, and one from out of town. The three friends seem approachable, sitting at a table directly on the other side of the words. They quickly order some appetizers on their phone (a perk of reserving a table on the Hi-Lawn) before talking with me. 

“I would say we come once or twice a month. When we have friends we usually bring them. We like being outdoors ‘cause COVID, so it’s nice to have an outdoor space. We like how many people are here.” If Union Market does one thing well, it’s creating a really relaxed and unique vibe compared to anywhere else in D.C. 

It is beautiful upstairs, but after leaving through the back end, it is impossible not to realize the difference between this building and the neighborhood. I walk back towards the metro and the disunion between the two sides of 4th Street becomes more apparent. I pass an apartment building that dedicates its first floor to La Cosecha, “a contemporary Latin American market,” according to its website. Passing by, I see its patrons, the majority of whom are white, drink margaritas out of pouches and eat food that definitely involves the words “twist” and “flair” in the menu descriptions. There is a cruel irony, it seems, in this market place catering towards a group of people that are actively pushing away the Latin American community that lived and worked in the area for years before this. I realize in that moment that I really am no better than any of them, another white girl hoping for trendy foods and trendier Instagram captions.

Tapping into the train station my friend notices an ad that says in bright letters “A GREENER FUTURE.” Behind it is an artistic rendering of what the city planned for the neighborhood. There is a clean white street with people riding bikes and walking dogs. A couple sits on a bench with coffee, basking in the shade of a planted tree. I stare at the drawing until the electronic billboard fades to the next ad. As I turn to get on the escalator, I reflect on the picture and realize that every single person in the drawing was white.

November 2021