Privatizing Atlanta's South Downtown
From the 1996 Olympics to SoDo’s “Tech-Led” Land Grab
Atlanta is a city defined by its relentless drive for reinvention—too often at the expense of its own residents. From the glittering spectacle of the 1996 Centennial Olympic Games to the ongoing rebranding of South Downtown as SoDo, the city consistently prioritizes ambitious, investor-friendly projects.
I've witnessed these cycles firsthand—as an outsider, suburban transplant, Georgia Tech student, and later as someone who left for San Francisco and New York before returning downtown in late 2019.
Now, with major developments reshaping Downtown and Midtown, and venture-backed firms aggressively acquiring South Downtown properties, Atlanta feels locked in a rapid, PR-driven transformation. Beneath glossy promises of "innovation corridors" and vibrant communities, a familiar pattern persists: concentrated ownership, strategic rebranding, and systematic displacement of longstanding communities.
Atlanta’s Downtown and Midtown areas have been in overdrive lately:
The Stitch Project
Aims to unify Downtown and Midtown by capping parts of the interstate, creating 14 acres of green space and surface streets. It’s lauded as a unifier, but mega-projects like this often raise questions about who actually benefits—and who sees their taxes or local businesses displaced.Georgia State University
Launched a $107 million campus renovation near Woodruff Park, reconfiguring a swath of Downtown. The official line is “vibrancy” and “welcoming,” but as always, there’s little guarantee it will remain welcoming to the less-moneyed.MARTA’s Expansion
New infill stations, a pilot BRT line—rare bright spots of improved accessibility if executed fairly. Historically, however, transit expansions in Atlanta often target higher-income ridership, not those who need it most.
Meanwhile, Midtown keeps rising higher:
Over 2,000 residential units came online in 2024 alone; monthly rents have soared to $2,400+ on average. Some call this “growth,” but longtime residents call it pricing out.
Opus Place is revived with new financing in 2025, set to reshape Midtown’s skyline—and no doubt, the property tax bills of older single-family homes nearby.
All of these changes speak to the city’s ethos of “progress above all.” Yet, as the saying goes, when you keep your eyes only on the horizon, you trample everything underfoot.
SoDo: The Latest (and Loudest) Example of “Revitalization” Hype
In 2024, Atlanta Ventures, spearheaded by David Cummings, purchased 53 buildings in South Downtown. This wasn't simply an infusion of capital—it was strategic consolidation. Quickly branded as SoDo, with appealing buzzwords like "startup ecosystem" and "entrepreneurial spirit," it masks a top-down approach to neighborhood curation.
"Revitalization" in this context translates to selecting businesses that align with a profitable brand identity, typically at higher rents. Small, longstanding businesses—barbershops, seamstresses, check-cashing services—are quietly pushed out. Coupled with sophisticated AI-driven surveillance, lidar sensors, and robotic security guards patrolling public spaces, SoDo increasingly resembles a private asset portfolio rather than a thriving community.
Brianna Jackson, a longtime associate of Cummings, presents a friendly face through "community engagement" initiatives and carefully curated listening sessions. However, genuine community veto power or guaranteed rent protections remain notably absent. The result: a carefully crafted illusion of inclusion, masking an underlying profit-driven strategy.
My Visit to Spiller Park Coffee in 2024
I grabbed a latte at the brand-new Spiller Park in SoDo that year—clean lines, minimalist wood, the whole “Third Wave coffee” vibe.
The price wasn’t shocking if you’re used to Midtown or SF. But for folks who’d lived around Broad and Mitchell for decades, it sent a clear message: You’re not the clientele we have in mind.
Reflections on 1996: Because We’ve Seen This Play Out Before
It’s impossible to look at SoDo’s transformation without recalling the 1996 Centennial Olympics, which I missed in real time, ironically, due to moving from Sydney (pre-2000 Games) to Atlanta (just after ’96). But living downtown from 2019 to mid-2024, near Centennial Olympic Park, taught me a lot about how this city sells its big projects.
1996 Olympics: A Displacement Playbook Revisited
The Centennial Games set a precedent for sacrificing marginalized communities for global branding:
30,000+ evictions occurred between 1990–1996, including the demolition of Techwood Homes, with inadequate relocation support.
9,000+ illegal arrests of homeless residents cleared streets for Olympic tourists, intensifying the criminalization of poverty.
Centennial Olympic Park catalyzed $3.2B in corporate investment downtown but displaced low-income Black residents to peripheral neighborhoods.
SoDo’s rebrand follows this blueprint: centralized control, curated demographics, and PR-centric "progress" that sidelines existing communities.
After Georgia Tech (2008–2012), I lived through San Francisco's 2013–2017 tech boom and New York City's 2017–2019 real estate transformations. These experiences crystallized a pattern: when venture capital targets real estate, "revitalization" becomes a coded term for extraction and displacement.
Upon returning to Atlanta, I recognized the familiar language employed to justify SoDo's "innovation corridor." In every city, these narratives inevitably lead to community displacement and exclusion.
The Limits of So-Called “Community Journalism”
A prime example of how local media can gloss over the messy realities of redevelopment is an article from SaportaReport titled “As eyes converge on South Downtown’s potential, a new nonprofit sets its sights on guiding those visions into a neighborhood for all”. Essentially, this piece functions as a puff piece—an uncritical feature emphasizing the Heart of South Downtown (HOSD) nonprofit’s stated goals without adequately examining potential harms.
Key red flags include minimal community feedback, no critical exploration of power dynamics between HOSD, Atlanta Ventures, and long-term residents, and a clearly promotional tone.
The CEO of HOSD being none other than Brianna Jackson.
Coverage like that inadvertently supports a top-down narrative of “revitalization,” neglecting the complexities of rising rents, cultural erasure, and how nonprofits can perpetuate systemic inequities.
Can We Break the Cycle?
If Atlanta wants genuine inclusivity, we need:
Binding Affordability Measures
Commercial rent caps or multi-year, below-market leases for longtime businesses.Community Governance
Give existing residents, especially Black and working-class Atlantans, real power to shape or veto major developments.Redirection of Security Budgets
Fund homeless outreach, mental health, and youth centers over robotic guards and AI cameras.Shared Ownership Models
Community land trusts, co-ops—anything that lets local people build equity in their own neighborhoods.
Atlanta’s talk of “equity” will remain hollow unless the city enforces real constraints on developers like Atlanta Ventures. Otherwise, we’ll just keep inventing new branding terms—SoDo, the next BeltLine, or something else—while the same pattern of displacement and extraction rolls on.
It’s now March 2025, nearly three decades since the city’s global moment in 1996. Back then, critics warned about corporate glitz overshadowing community needs; about poor residents pushed aside for brand image. They were right. Yes, Atlanta soared in some ways, but thousands lost access to housing and a sense of belonging.
So call it SoDo if you want. Look deeper, and you’ll see the same old hustle: private takeover, branded as progress. If this city has any moral core left, it won’t let that story keep replaying itself unchecked.